BOOK REVIEW: Night School by Richard Wiseman

Night School: Wake up to the power of sleepNight School: Wake up to the power of sleep by Richard Wiseman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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This book is a two-in-one. It’s a pop sci book covering the science of sleep. However, it’s arranged as a self-help guide to teach one how to get the most from one’s sleep life. It covers a wide range of sleep related issues from how to minimize jet lag to how to master lucid dreaming. It also describes the sometimes dire effects of not getting enough quality sleep. Along the way one also learns about interesting anecdotes and research that may not change your quality of sleep, but could prove interesting or useful nonetheless—such as the research that shows a strong correlation between the position in which one usually sleeps and one’s personality.

The meat of the book is divided up into eight sections (called “Lessons” in accord with the theme of “Night School.”) The first few lessons begin with general background on sleep and sleep deprivation, and cover how much sleep one needs and how one can achieve the best possible sleep life. Then the book delves into more specialized topics such as night terrors, sleepwalking, “power napping,” and the question of whether one can really learn in one’s sleep. The last couple chapters deal with dreaming (normal and lucid.)

Along with the eight lessons, there are also eight assignments. Most of these assignments are surveys that help the reader understand what will work for them best specifically—as not all sleep advice is one-size-fits-all. However, there are other assignments like a mid-course recap exam, a call to attempt interpreting one’s own dreams (as opposed to relying on the generic dream interpretation guides which the science suggests are bunk,) and a suggestion to start a dream diary—with instructions for how to go about it.

Another nice feature of the book are its boxed discussions of relevant research on such topics as segmented sleep (instead of sleeping through the night), narcolepsy, snoring, children’s sleep issues, etc. There’s also a Conclusion that reviews key information from the book in the form of a refutation of the common myths that abound on the subject of sleep, as well as a “manifesto” that repeats key elements of advice on good sleep. It’s a scholarly work, and so it include source citations.

I learned a lot from this book. Granted a lot of the advice is commonsense (e.g. sleep in a dark, cool, and quiet place), but there are plenty of not so obvious tidbits as well (e.g. red light is okay, but blue light will keep one from sleeping.) There are also a lot of fascinating stories in the book to keep one interested.

I’d recommend the book for anyone who wants to learn to improve their sleep lives.

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What RYT300 Taught Me About Fear

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I recently completed the RYT300 course at Amrutha Bindu Yoga to obtain my RYT500 yoga teacher certification. (i.e. The 200 hour course–which I completed a couple years ago–plus the 300 hour course are the primary requirements for the 500 hour certification.) The essay below is about one of the key lessons I learned in this phase of training.

 

I walked through the streets of Bengaluru barefoot and with not so much as a 5 rupee coin in my pocket. [If your response to that is “big whoop,” you probably live somewhere like Singapore, Helsinki, Kobe, or Calgary where the streets are immaculate and the rats aren’t so bold. If you’re familiar with what goes on in and near the streets in India, you may be wondering what the hell is wrong with me.]  It was an unconventional teaching tactic to be sure, but it ranks among the most valuable lessons of the training—surpassing no small revelations about postural alignment, pranayama methods, bandha technique, physiology, and yogic philosophy. It was even up there with the experience of advanced shatkarma (cleansing practices) that were completely new to me.

 

What’s the lesson?  If you’re going to teach yoga–particularly at the intermediate / advanced level that RYT500 is intended to prepare you for–you need to work on not being ruled by fear. That isn’t to say one must be fearless. We imagine fearlessness to equate to courageousness, but courage is action under fear. Neuroscience tells us what a fearless person is like. We know from individuals who’ve had the parts of their brains damaged that are responsible for the emotion—they are paralyzed by indecision. Our emotions provide a basis for choosing–at least as a tie-breaker when no clearly superior path exists. We need our fear, just like our other emotions, but if you can’t move forward because of it you may have a hard time keeping learning.

 

Not being ruled by fear isn’t just—or primarily—about being able to keep practicing advanced techniques until you can get a grasp on them.  Yes, mastering a handstand requires a fair amount of falling down (hopefully, in a controlled fashion), and that’s a lot of potential for anxiety, but there’s more at stake.  What precisely? One might start, as many do, with what Patanjali has to say on the subject, and one can start from square one. “Chitta Vrtta Nirodhah.” (Quieting the fluctuations of the mind.) Many of the fluctuations of the mind result from anxieties and our obsession with solving them. Our brains are wired to try to anticipate worst case scenarios so we can develop ready-made solutions for them. This can result in excessive pessimism, extended stress, and all the problems that go along with that stress.

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There’s a popular saying that goes, “money is the root of all evil.” But, I think it’s wrong. Fear is at the heart of all evil—not to mention a fair amount of run-of-the-mill pettiness.

 

So what is the path to anxiety management? Start small, and dispassionately observe your discomfort. Don’t try to squelch the emotion, just watch it while trying to avoid putting good or bad labels on it. Of course, sources of anxiety are personal. As far as prescriptive yoga practices, that depends upon one’s personal anxieties. For some inversions might do the trick, for others extreme back bends, for some external breath retention, for others it may be balancing. Then, of course, there are the advanced shatkarma practices I mentioned earlier–such as vaman dhauti (cleansing by vomiting) or poorna shankhaprakshalana (i.e. clearing out one’s digestive tract via massive ingestion of salt water.)

 

I recently finished teaching a Kid’s Camp (a post about that to come.) At the beginning of the camp, I was telling someone that the kids were fearless, but what I came to discover was that kids just allow their enthusiasm to swamp their anxieties. I had seven-year-olds doing pinchamayurasana (forearm stand) and vrschikasana (scorpion) within the first few days. That would be a hard sell for adults. [I don’t think I’ve ever taught those postures to adults.]  It’s not just that kids are bendy, they’re also ready to get up after they fall down. (And since they’re not stressed about the possibility of falling they don’t tense up and get badly injured.) Someone posted a great meme on Facebook recently. It said, “A child who falls down 50 times learning to walk, doesn’t go, ‘I don’t think this is for me.’”

BOOK REVIEWS: Gut by Giulia Enders

Gut: The Inside Story of Our Body's Most Underrated OrganGut: The Inside Story of Our Body’s Most Underrated Organ by Giulia Enders
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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[I recently posted a review of Mary Roach’s GULP. I mention this because that book is likely to be the primary competitor if you’re looking for a tour of the alimentary canal in book form. While I’d recommend both books and point out that the two have different thrusts, if you’re set on reading just one book on poop and farts this year, the two reviews should help you determine which work is more up your alley.]

In this highly readable and humorous book, medical student Giulia Enders teaches us how to poop, what to do when we can’t, how our bodies extract resources from the stuff we shove in our pie holes, and what the bacteria that outnumber our body’s cells by an order of magnitude do for (and against) us. The book is in part a work of popular science, but it’s also a guidebook to the digestive tract. In other words, Enders not only tells readers about the wondrous job their digestive system does, but she also offers advice as to how to keep it running efficiently.

The book is divided into three parts. The first part lays out what the gut consists of and how it does its job. The second part introduces the reader to the enteric nervous system, which is the part of the nervous system that governs the digestive tract and determines when we vomit, poop, and—to some degree–experience emotional turmoil. The final part addresses the body as an ecosystem. The human body consists of 10 trillion cells and another 100 trillion microbes—cells that could theoretically live independently of your body provided the right conditions.

The strength of this book lies in Enders’s ability to put the complex physiological actions of our body into simple, understandable, and whimsical terms. This may mean anthropomorphizing a colon, but so be it—you’ll still get the drift. A prime example is the “Salmonella in Hats” section that equates antibodies with big floppy sombreros that interfere with the germ’s mobility and virulence. The author’s enthusiasm for this “under-rated” organ is infectious.

The book employs amusing, off-beat line drawings to help convey relevant ideas and to support the stories that the author uses to clarify the complex actions of the gut. The art is well matched to the tone of the text, which makes sense given they were drawn by the author’s sister.

As I mentioned in my GULP review, GUT is a very different book despite all they have in common. Enders spends the bulk of her time in the middle of the alimentary canal, where Roach spends most of her time talking about what happens at the two ends. Enders’s book is about the typical Joe’s digestive system, where Roach specializes in extreme cases and narrow (but fascinating) questions. Enders’s book is more of a tour of the digestive system rather than a series of tales of interesting things that happen in and around it. While Roach’s book deals in bizarre cases, Enders’s book is actually more light-hearted and informal in tone. (Whimsical is a good descriptor for GUT.)

I’d recommend this book for anyone who wants to learn more about how their digestive system works and what they can do to keep it working at its best. It’s funny and packed with fun facts.

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BOOK REVIEW: Emperor of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee

The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of CancerThe Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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Dr. Mukherjee describes his Pulitzer Prize winning book as a biography of cancer. If so, it’s like the biography of a master thief or a gangster. One reads it not because one finds the character in any way endearing, but one can’t help but admire the resourcefulness and indomitable spirit of the culprit. Humanity has been at war with cancer for decades, but it remains alive and well–losing ground in specific domains but gaining overall.

The book covers a period from when our technology was too crude to see at the tiny levels necessary to recognize the commonality between various forms of cancer to the present-day attempts to find treatments that can target cancer cells without attacking good cells—a challenging prospect. The implication of that last sentence is that the cure might be as damning as the disease, and this has often proven to be the case. It’s often a race to see whether the cancer can be killed before the treatment kills the patient. This has been the case with radiation, radical surgeries, and various forms of chemotherapy that are toxic to good cells as well as bad. While the book ends on a hopeful note about more targeted treatment, cancer has not gone gently into that good night.

While the book covers a broad period, the bulk of its pages are devoted to the latter half of the 20th century. That’s when the war on cancer got serious and the science became advanced enough to move beyond crude approaches like radical mastectomies. Our understanding of chemistry, pharmacology, and biology reached a point at which cures were no longer pie-in-the-sky notions. But it wasn’t just the medical science that was more advanced, statistical methodology also reached a point at which it could answer questions that had previously been elusive. Such questions include whether smoking caused cancer—a fact that seems self-evident today, but which wasn’t as straightforward as one might think. There is also the issue of whether various treatments were actually extending the lifespans of those afflicted, which was also not as simple as one might think.

While the above discussion of science and statistics might make this book seem dreadfully boring, this isn’t the case. Mukherjee didn’t get the 2011 Pulitzer Prize for Nonfiction by being dull. The author knows the value of a story, and uses stories successfully throughout the book. There are the stories of individual patient cases, but also the story of the mass movement to raise dollars, awareness, and Congressional support to fight cancer. These true stories sometimes show the roller coaster ride that we associate with fiction—such as the apparent cure of a form of childhood leukemia that seemed promising until the kids once in remission started coming back with symptoms (the leukemia crossed the brain-blood barrier and found fertile ground on the other side of a biological wall that was meant to keep such ne’er-do-wells out.)

As one might expect of a book that covers so much ground, it’s not thin. The book’s 600 pages are arranged in 43 chapters divided into six parts. I’m sure there’s a lot more one could learn about cancer, but Mukherjee covers a lot of ground in an interesting package.

I won’t say I enjoyed the book (it’s unavoidably depressing, if hopeful) but I did find it both interesting and readable. While it might not be the sunniest and most joyous of reads, it’s one that many people should read. I’d recommend it for anyone. I would say “anyone who has been touched by cancer,” but I think that’s the same thing at this point.

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The Good and Bad News About Yoga for Weight Loss

IMG_2643The good news is that yoga can help one lose weight. The bad news is that the mechanism by which this occurs isn’t what most people expect, and it involves the mind a great deal more than the muscles.

 

While many people hope for a secret to weight loss, there’s no secret. Weight loss is a function of calories eaten being less than calories burned.  This simple formula means that one can either eat less or exercise more. Both the diet and exercise matter for good health, but the eating part is more important to cutting weight. This statement may be controversial and seemingly gratuitous—particularly for people who think exercise is going to single-handedly shed excess pounds–and so I’ll take some time to try to make my point.

 

The first thing one should know is that our voluntary activity only accounts for about one-third of calories consumed. The other two-thirds are used whether we move a muscle or not. Between 20 and 25% of our energy consumption is devoted to our brain, and much of the rest is used to keep us at 37°C (98.6°F) because we are, after all, mammals. This means that increasing the intensity or amount of exercise—while it has tremendous health benefits—will achieve only a marginal increase in calories burned. From the Mayo Clinic website, I learned that a 109kg (240lb) individual will burn about 273 calories doing a typical hata yoga class or about 436 calories with Power Yoga. (Compare this to about 327 calories / hr. for tai chi or 654 calories / hr. for hiking.) So your hour of yoga has maybe knocked off a 32oz soft drink or one medium size French fries. Most people have trouble finding more than one hour of time and energy for exercise per day. And as someone who sometimes spends more than an hour a day exercising, I can attest that there is a point of diminishing marginal returns. So while exercise is an important part of weight loss, one can’t go hog-wild in eating just because one exercises.

 

[One should also note that many yoga practitioners experience a reduced basal metabolic rate (BMR) because of the calming aspect of the practice. A lower BMR means that you burn fewer calories just living and maintaining your metabolism. All things being equal, this makes cutting weight all the more challenging—though the effect is certainly counterweighted by the stress reduction aspect of the practice that will be discussed below.]

 

To summarize: unless you’re an elite athlete in training for something like the Olympics, the idea that you can eat whatever you please and cut / maintain a healthy weight is likely to result in disappointment.  A common piece of dietary advice for elite athletes is to daily eat one gram of protein for every pound of ideal bodyweight and eight fist-sized servings of vegetables. Beyond that, they can pretty much eat what they want. But with that much slowly digesting material, they’re probably not going to go overboard—even if they weren’t already, almost by definition, very disciplined people.

 

IMG_2737So if an hour of yoga a day doesn’t even make up for having a Mars bar, what good is it?  For one thing, the yoga student has the opportunity to become more attuned to his or her body and, in doing so, to learn to differentiate physiological hunger from the many other permutations of hunger that overtime merge into a multi-headed hydra of craving. What are these other hungers? First and foremost, there’s psychological hunger, or the use of food as therapy. People use food to reward themselves, to medicate themselves, to take their minds off of their woes. Secondly, there’s sensory hunger in which we have no real need to eat but the food looks or smells too good to avoid.

 

One of the forms of hunger that often remains hidden is social hunger. That is, one eats to be part of the in-group and to bond. For example, imagine you’ve just eaten, are not hungry, and someone offers you food. Depending upon who it is and what your relationship is that person, you may feel compelled to eat even if you don’t need it. The double whammy is that eating as socializing is so deeply engrained and that we humans—contrary to popular belief—are dismal at multitasking. We can’t converse and be aware of what we are eating, and thus one may overeat because one is so engrossed in the distraction of socializing. This isn’t to say that there is anything inherently wrong with social eating. We all have to do it to some degree or another. One just needs to recognize that if it becomes a habit to be distracted from one’s food, one may have problems.

 

Relating back to the idea of psychological hunger, yoga helps one destress.  Stress can be a perfectly healthy phenomenon, but when it’s prolonged it can have many adverse consequences. One such consequence is having cortisol levels remain too high, and this has the effect of ramping up the appetite. Your body has been pressed into fight or flight mode, it expects that you’re hauling ass away from a sabretooth tiger or an angry woolly mammoth mamma, and that you’ll soon need to replenish depleted energy stores. Your endocrine system doesn’t know that you’re curled up on the couch with a pint of ice cream… yeah, let’s call it a “pint.” As a form of exercise, yoga helps reduce this problem. However, beyond exercise, yoga offers many relaxation techniques such as yoga nidra, kaya sthairyam, restorative postures, and some forms of pranayama(breathing exercises) that can help you turn off the “fight or flight” and turn on the “rest and digest”—what Herbert Benson called the “relaxation response.” Sometimes you might delve into an intense practice like Ashtanga Vinyasa or Power Yoga, and other times restorative yoga might be just what the doctor ordered. [Disclaimer: “What the doctor ordered” is a figure of speech. I’m not a doctor, and I haven’t even played one on TV.]

 

IMG_2633There is yet another way in which yoga can help. Yoga helps one dispassionately observe one’s drives and this way one can slowly, over time, rewire one’s attitudes toward food.  One can begin to think of hunger pangs as a sensation, rather than projecting a negative connotation onto them. In this way, one can learn to begin to watch the sensation and learn from it rather than running for the food.

 

Finally, an important benefit of yoga is in teaching one to be contented with oneself, even if one isn’t content to live with one’s present health or physical capability. Santosa is one of the niyama, and it teaches one to be content with who one is–perhaps even while one is simultaneously practicing the austerities of tapas (another niyama) in pursuit of personal development. If one isn’t contented with oneself, one can fall into a shame spiral that may create the kind of persistent stress that I warned about above. Also, if one is at a healthy weight, but has some deep-seated drive toward “perfection,” the lessons of santosa can inform you as well.

 

Best of luck in the pursuit of good health.

BOOK REVIEW: Boxing Fitness by Ian Oliver

Boxing Fitness: A Guide to Get Fighting Fit (Fitness Series)Boxing Fitness: A Guide to Get Fighting Fit by Ian Oliver
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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How does one skip rope, work the pads, or avoid nipple rash? If you think that boxing would be a fun way to get fit, this would probably be a useful book for you. Oliver shows a range of fitness practices—many specific to boxing, but others that are used in a number of sports and fitness activities—that will help one improve one’s fitness.

The reader will gain insight into bagwork, padwork, and boxing drills–from beginner to advanced. While the book’s emphasis isn’t on boxing technique, there’s a minimal discussion of the basics of footwork and punching designed to allow a reader to safely begin practice of bagwork and padwork. One also learns about roadwork, the basics of weightlifting as it’s useful for boxers, calisthenics, and other exercise routines that boxers use. It’s a small book and, therefore, doesn’t go into great detail on any particular subject. However, it does offer useful tips in a concise form.

There’s a chapter on equipment, but throughout the book the author gives advice on equipment as it’s relevant to the discussion at hand. The same is true of safety tips. There’s a chapter on injury and illness, but you’ll find insights into how to avoid injuries woven throughout.

I liked the approach of this book. While it shows one the age-old practices of fighters, it also describes more recent developments. In other words, it’s neither crusty and obsolete, nor does it try to re-invent every wheel in order to prove itself cutting edge. I also appreciated the author’s pragmatism—e.g. emphasizing the benefit of a strong core over that of six-pack building and suggesting dietary practices that are sound and simple rather than fads and fables.

Graphics include black and white photographs throughout a few diagrams. Most chapters have photographs, and they are generally sufficient to convey the necessary information without being overwhelming.

While this is a book of the basics, I found it to be a beneficial read and I appreciated the way it was arranged and the way information was conveyed. I’d recommend it for anyone interested in fitness for combative sports or who thinks boxing would be a good way for them to stay motivated to get fitter.

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BOOK REVIEW: The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi by Peter M. Wayne & Mark Fuerst

The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi: 12 Weeks to a Healthy Body, Strong Heart, and Sharp MindThe Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi: 12 Weeks to a Healthy Body, Strong Heart, and Sharp Mind by Peter Wayne
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This book provides an overview (and a laymen-friendly literature review) of the scientific findings about tai chi, and it helps a beginner get started in his / her own practice. (Tai chi, short for tai chi chuan, is a Chinese martial art that is called an internal–or soft–style.)

The authors achieve an impressive tightrope act. And they manage to do it in a way that reads sincerely, while at the same time providing useful information for all readers. Often books on the science of Eastern health-enhancing activities (e.g. tai chi, chi gong, or yoga)–even if they are positive on the results of such activities—take digs at people’s beliefs about ideas like chi, prana, meridians, or chakra as the authors attempt to distance themselves from such beliefs. On the other hand, books that cater to the spiritually inclined—even when they are couched in scientific terms—may resort to third-hand anecdotes about the supernatural powers of some ancient master or report methodological train wrecks that support their views alongside sound studies, as long as the latter don’t present any evidence contrary to their belief system. In short, such books often talk in scientific lingo while showing a complete lack of understanding of the scientific method. In this book, Wayne manages to navigate these rocky shores because he’s both a scientist and a longtime tai chi practitioner who genuinely accepts that there may be more at work in the practice than science fully understands. Thus, he knows the importance of testable hypotheses and when a study needs to be validated by more a robust follow-up study, but he also reports on the traditional beliefs and isn’t adverse to writing about studies evaluating the benefits of spirituality (note: showing that being spiritual has benefits doesn’t mean that the benefits result from anything spiritual or supernatural.)

The book has 14 chapters divided into three parts. The first part introduces the reader to tai chi, describes the dimensions along which tai chi has been shown to offer benefits (the authors call these “the 8 active ingredients of Tai Chi,” relating them to pharmacological medicines), and explains how tai chi can be simplified for beginners (even the short form sequences take a while to be memorized—let alone building any grasp of the intricacies of said forms.) The second part consists of six chapters that report the findings of studies on the health effects of tai chi, as well as discussing the possible mechanisms of those benefits. The topics discussed in this section include: increased balance, bone density, pain mitigation, cardiovascular health, mental performance, psychological well-being, and sleep quality. The book’s last part suggests ways in which the reader can build a tai chi practice. The five chapters in this section deal with the interactive practices of tai chi (tai chi isn’t just the solo forms that you’ve seen elderly people do in the park), integrating tai chi with other health and fitness practices, the potential for practicing tai chi at work, the role of tai chi in creative practices, and tai chi as a practice of lifelong learning (this last chapter gives beginners tips about how to start a practice.) There is also an afterword about how tai chi might play a part in building improved health and well-being in the present era.

I found the book to be well-organized to achieve its objective. It’s packed with food for thought. Neophytes will find a lot of benefit in this book, but I suspect even advanced practitioners can glean insights—particularly if said advanced practitioner hasn’t been reading up on the scientific findings. Humor, quotes, and stories are used to lighten the tone and illustrate key points. There are some photos and other graphics where needed (mostly in chapter 3), but they are relatively sparse for a book on a practice like tai chi. (That’s not a complaint. I think there are far too many attempts to teach movement arts through books—an impossible task—and not enough effort put into conveying the kind of ancillary information that is transmissible in book form.)

I’d recommend this book for anyone who’s interested in knowing more about the health benefits of tai chi, and moving beyond the platitudes often heard but seldom evaluated.

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BOOK REVIEW: Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers by Robert Sapolsky

Why Zebras Don't Get UlcersWhy Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers by Robert M. Sapolsky
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Sapolsky’s book examines why stress and stress-related illnesses are rampant in humans. As the title suggests, prey on the Serengeti Plain, animals that are chased by fierce and fast predators, aren’t nearly so likely to suffer the ill effects of stress—despite living in a harsher world than most of humanity. To oversimplify, this has a lot to do with the fact that one downside of our big brains is an ability to obsess about what has happened and what might happen, and our sympathetic nervous system (i.e. the fight or flight mechanism) can be triggered even when there is no immediate threat in reality. In short, humans can uniquely worry themselves to death. Sapolsky gets into much great detail and lets the reader know what is known and what remains to be uncovered with respect to stress.

In almost 600 pages, arranged into 18 chapters, Sapolsky covers human stress in fine detail. While it’s a book written for a lay audience, it’s not a quick and easy read. The book discusses topics like the action of neurotransmitters and hormones, and, while it assumes no particular science background, it does assume a broadly educated and curious reader.

The chapters begin by looking at the stress mechanism from a physiological perspective. It then considers stress with respect to specific illnesses, the relationship between stress and various other topics in human being (e.g. sleep, pain, and memory.) The final chapter offers insight into how one can reduce one’s bad stress and one’s risk of stress-related illness. Among the most interesting topics are what personalities are particularly prone to stress-related illness and why psychological stress (as opposed to stress based in immediate real world stressors) is stressful.

Sapolsky has a sense of humor and knows how to convey information to a non-expert audience, but this isn’t the simplest book on the subject. It’s an investment of time and energy to complete reading this book, but it’s worth it if one’s interest in the subject is extensive enough. One of the strengths of the book is that it stays firmly in the realm of science. Because stress has been wrongly considered a fluff subject, many of the works on the topic—even those by individuals with MD or PhD after their names—have been new-agey or pseudo-scientific. This book stays firmly in the realm of science. Sapolsky explains what the studies have shown, and he tells the reader clearly when there is a dearth of evidence or contradictory findings.

If the reader has a deep interest in stress-related health problems, I’d highly recommend this book.

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BOOK REVIEW: Yoga Education for Children, Vol. 1 by Swami Satyananda Saraswati, et. al.

Yoga Education for ChildrenYoga Education for Children by Swami Prakashanand Saraswati
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

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This is the first of a two-volume set on teaching children yoga, and was the textbook for the Registered Children’s Yoga Teacher (RCYT) training course that I completed earlier this year. The focus is on integrating yogic teachings as part of a child’s broader education. It’s not just about how one can squeeze some postures into the life of a busy student, but about what yogic education can provide that mainstream education is lacking and how mainstream and yogic education can work together to produce healthier and more well-balanced children.

The book consists of three parts. Part I is entitled “Yoga and Education” and it considers a range of topics at the intersect of yoga and education. Here we learn why formal yogic education begins at age eight, and what the differences between children and adults are as they pertain to learning yoga—and learning in general. This section presents the specific practices that have historically been a child’s introduction into yoga (surya namaskara, nadi shoudhana [alternate nostril breathing], and a specific chant known as the Gayatri mantra.) The tone of the book is scientific, although it does vastly oversimplify some topics—e.g. the deterioration of the pineal gland—over what is being reported by scientists.

The middle section considers yoga as a therapeutic tool for emotionally troubled children, disabled children, and those with juvenile diabetes. This is the shortest part by far. It’s just three chapters, each linked to a subject mentioned in the topic sentence. The chapters are short and general. It should be noted, that the first section also addresses the issue of behavioral problems in a more general and less clinical sense.

The final part of the book, and the largest by page count, is yogic practices for children. There’s a brief section on pre-school exercises. As mentioned, children are formally introduced to yoga around age seven or eight. Younger children’s yoga training best takes the form of play. Therefore, the practices for younger children are more game-like. There’s a section on yoga for the classroom. In other words, practices that one can complete at a desk–as opposed to needing the full mat space.

The bulk of part three is taken up by asana. The postures are laid out as they are in the “Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha” (APMB) book that is also put out by the Yoga Publications Trust of Bihar. For each posture there’s a line drawing, a description, and a list of benefits and contraindications. In some cases these posture listings look exactly the same as those in the APMB, but in many cases they are “marketed” differently. That is, a posture might be listed by its similarity of appearance to an animal or letter of the alphabet so that asana can be taught in conjunction with other topics—as well as be made more interesting for the young student. The grouping of asana is meant to assist in creating child-suitable lessons (as opposed to being grouped by type of posture–e.g. forward bends, back bends, twists, etc.)

The last part doesn’t deal only in asana, it also talks about pranayama practices suitable for children as well as other common practices like trataka (concentrating gaze) and yoga nidra (yogic sleep.) It’s important to note that not all pranayama practices are deemed suitable for children. Practices like yoga nidra have to be modified for children because they will not be able to sit still for extended periods, and so the yoga nidra practice must be abbreviated. Children may also have trouble following some of the instructions as used for adults.

I’d recommend this book for yoga teachers who are interested in teaching children. There are many unique features of teaching children that must be considered. This volume is under 300 pages, and the second volume is about the same thickness. I haven’t read volume two but it seems to take a similar approach, expanding on some items and focusing on a different set of practices. That volume also apparently reports on the findings of a couple studies on yoga in the educational environment.

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BOOK REVIEW: Why We Run by Bernd Heinrich

Why We Run: A Natural HistoryWhy We Run: A Natural History by Bernd Heinrich
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This book is actually several different books woven together. It’s part autobiography of the author’s running life, it’s part a study of comparative biology between various creatures with an endurance bent and humans, it’s part an examination of the evolutionary biology of humanity’s proclivity to run, and it’s part guide to preparing to engage in ultramarathons. Often I pan such books as being unfocused, ill-planned, and—most often—attempts to whip an article’s worth of material into a book length piece. However, Heinrich keeps it interesting enough that I don’t feel it necessary to level these criticisms. Still, my first warning to readers is that one has to read on for quite a while before one gets to the book that one thought one bought—i.e. one that answers the title question of “why WE (i.e. people in general and not the author specifically) run.” In short, you’ll need to have an eclectic set of interests to get through the whole book, but some may find reading only part of it gives them all they wanted from the book.

It should be noted that the book is on its second title. The original title was: “Racing the Antelope: What Animals Can Teach Us about Running and Ourselves.” The author explains in the front matter why the original name was changed (apparently some loud and obnoxious writer had a similarly titled book on a different subject and whined about it.) Changing the title wasn’t required because: a.) titles cannot be copyrighted, and b.) it wasn’t exactly the same title anyway. Still the new, more succinct, title may lead one to expect a succinct book, which this isn’t so much.

Some readers will enjoy Heinrich’s writing style; others will find that it ventures too far into flowery territory on occasion. I did enjoy it. However, I can see how a reader might find some of the descriptive sequences to be excessive–particularly toward the beginning of the book.

While there’s some overlapping and interweaving, one can think of the book in three sections. It’s written in twenty chapters. The first six tell the author’s story of getting into running and his youth. The next eight chapters deal in comparative and evolutionary biology. In general, these chapters look at the biology of other creatures as they pertain to said animals’ ability to engage in running (or activities that are like running in that they involve endurance of muscles and the cardiovascular system.) Also included in this section is the evolutionary biology of humans as it relates to becoming a species of runners. This is the core of the book and was the most interesting section for me. In it, Heinrich considers the endurance activities of insects, birds, antelopes, camels, and frogs. Each of these has a particular relevance. For example, camels are masters of endurance under harsh conditions. Frogs tell the story of the difference between fast and slow twitch musculature (relevant to sprinters versus distance runners.) Antelopes are, of course, the exemplars running in the animal kingdom, but the nature of their running is so different from that of humans (i.e. making quick escapes versus pursuing wounded prey.) The last six chapters can be seen as a guide to preparing for ultramarathon races, but it’s also a continuation of the author’s self-examination of his running life from the time he began ultramarathoning.

I’d recommend this book for readers who are interested in the science of human performance. It’s well written, and the insights it offers into the biology of other animals are fascinating. Whether you read the whole book or just the part that pertains to your interests, you’ll take something away from this book.

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