“BI-GU” are two characters in Chinese, literally means “avoiding grains”. As people didn’t have much to eat thousands of years ago, what this ancient Taoistic practice really means is “to live without eating any food”.
Driven by curiosity and motivated by the prospectives of losing wight and rebooting my immune system, I sign up for a BIGU-at-Home Program. Merely charging $100, the program includes a half-day in-person kickoff session, followed by all further instructions provided online through WeChat. For me, this is ideal. Without much sunk cost, I am under no pressure and mentally prepared to bail out at any time.
The instructor, Master Cun Dao, turns out to be a plain looking guy - bareheaded, short, lean but sturdy. In Chinese,Daomeansthe way of living, andCunmeans “an inch”. So “knowing a little bit of the way of living” appears to be the modest name that Master Cun Dao has given to himself. For someone who, according to the hearsay, is on fasting for over 170 days a year, he has a surprisingly strong voice full of energy.
There are 20 of us at the in-person kickoff session, two-third of which appear to have done BIGU with Master Cun Dao before. “Not a bad sign if people are willing to do it again”, I tell myself quietly.
Master Cun Dao starts by asking the returning students to share their past experiences.
A guy in his 50s tells the story of losing 20 pounds after going through this BIGU Program 2 years ago. “I’ve been enjoying normal blood pressure without taking any medicine ever since.” He concluded with pride and appreciation.
Another lady in her 70s claims to enjoy better sleep after finishing the 7-day fasting the year before. “I am a buddhist,” she says, “I have to kowtow to the Buddha everyday. Now without the bulging paunch, I can bow all the way down easily. It feels so good that I want to do it again. This time, I want to try fasting for 14 days.” One by one, all those stories sound incredibly encouraging and promising.
“Not bad commercial”, I remind myself soberly.
Master Cun Dao then steps to the head of the table. Without any further elaboration of the benefits of BIGU, he throws at us a simple yet seemingly profound question to ask ourselves during the practice: “What does my body need? What do I, as a person, want?” Okay, two questions to be exact.
He goes on to emphasize earnestly on Rule #1: take heed of the instruction, Do not doubt, Do not cut corners. While I am interested in finding out what the other rules are, that Rule #1 turns out to be the only rule we need to obey.
“Don’t be afraid of feeling hungry, ‘cause you won’t. Instead of eating any food, you are going to eat air,” Master Can Dao continues with a rather un-scientific remark.
“Wait a minute, that doesn’t make sense!” I have to refrain myself from speaking up. One doesn’t need to be a biology major to know that no matter how we breathe, either through the nose or the mouth, air goes into our lungs, not to our stomaches. But remembering Rule #1, I decide to keep my mouth shut and mind open.
“Food is not the only way we take in energy. We can get energy from Qi.” He turns our attention to the balance between Ying and Yang; talks about Qi circulating in our body; explains the 12 two-hour periods into which the day was traditionally divided, each associated with a major organ (channels and collaterals, according to TCM).
“A lot to remember and digest in a 2 hour lecture”, I take a mental note to do some more web browsing afterwards.
Instead of eating three meal a day, we are taught to feed ourselves with air. We need to do so within specific time frames and orientations, so that we can envision ourselves bathed in glowing sunshine or gleaming moonlight, depending on the time of the day.
“Inhale, quaffing a mouthful of air. Hold your breath for a few seconds, before swallowing it down. Then exhale, through your nose”. Master Cun Dao demonstrates, and everyone starts gulping.
“Stand comfortably in a clear space. Don’t ever practice ‘air gulping’ near a stove or at a river bank.” Despite his flat and matter of fact voice, Master Cun Dao sounds incredibly enigmatic with all the specifics. We all listen attentively, trying to remember everything.
“That’s all you have to learn for now.” Just when I think we are about to be done here, Master Cun Dao mentions that he will do two additional things to get us better prepared.
“Dredging the channel to make Qi flow more freely inside of you”, those are Master Cun Dao’s exact words.
Not sure what to expect, I look around and notice that the returning students all get excited with a tint of anxiousness. Or it could just be me feeling a little queasy.
“So who would like to go first?”
The question lingers in the air as a mid-aged lady walks to the front, standing with her back to Master Cun Dao. Master Cun Dao rests his left hand on her forehead, and then all of a sudden … Png, Png, Png, his right hand starts to pound the back of her head, all the way from the top down to the small of her back. The sound is so alarmingly loud I almost jolt out of the chair. However, the lady seems to be oblivious to the sound, feeling quite at ease, obviously enjoying being pounded.
After seeing two-third of the people get their share of “slapping” without a scratch, I finally get up the nerve to step forward. Png, Png, Png, the pounding is forceful, but does not hurt. According to my very limited knowledge of TCM, Master Cun Dao is following theGovernor Vessel, which conferences all the Yang channels in our body. I am so engrossed in analyzing what this has to do with fasting, before I remember to count how many times I get pounded, this peculiar form of massage is over.
“Phew, that is dramatic, but uneventful.” I let out a sigh of relief.
After the last person returns to his seat, Master Cun Dao proceeds to his second “thing”. From his canvas bag, he takes out a seemingly hand-crafted box and two handles with wires attached. “I will give you some low voltage electric shock. But don’t worry, it is pretty safe. You may close your eyes. Don’t be surprised if you see lights. They might appear in different colors, depending on the status of your body.”
I flinch at the sound of electric shock, trying hard to convince myself that the jerry-built box is in no way a murder weapon.
Glancing around, I wonder if any one would chicken out. Some first-timers also steal looks at one another, grimacing. But apparently we are all more intimidated by withdrawing than being electrified. So it is time to brace myself for the shock.
The two handles turn out to be electric rods. Master Cun Dao takes one, passing the other to me. Holding it gingerly without demur, I am staring hard at his hands, anticipating. He flips the power on. Nothing happens.
Just as I am about to take a deep breath to quiet my throbbing heart, his free hand grabs my left wrist. Right away, my rod-holding right hand is yanked by a surge of strong power, twisting at the wrist. The circuit is completed. Electric current ripples away to my shivering body. My eyes are tightly shut, maybe my mouth as well, as I fail to utter a sound, only screaming inside.
Feeling Master Cun Dao pressing his finger on my forehead, I start to see lights glowing, despite my closed eyes. Flaming, fluorescent, or prismatic? I fail to conjure up the right word to describe the color. It may have lasted 20 seconds or 2 minutes, to which I have no idea. As soon as he releases his hand, the lights vanish, my right hand goes limp, and my taut body loosens up, still speechless.
Now, my preparation for the fasting is finally completed. Till this day, I am still clueless regarding how crucial it is to have gone through these “Two Things” before the seven-day fasting. But I am glad that I’ve put aside my scientific trainings, and allowed myself these eccentric experiences.
In the next 7 days, I get up at 5am every morning, starting my day with air-gulping. Master Cun Dao keeps sending messages on WeChat reminding us of all the specifics. I surprise myself by not only being able to live a relatively normal life, but also managing to remain calm as I sit across the dining table and savor the joys of my kids relishing the food I made while celebrating my neither-craving-nor-hungry moment.
The pleasure also comes every time I step on to the scales. While my weight keeps dropping steadily, I feel the lightness of my body and the clarity of my mind. I enjoy virtualizing the accumulated wastes and toxins being swept out, together with excessive fats. Air, water, sunshine and moonlight - those are all my body needs.
I am proud of myself for having concluded the 7-day fasting rather successfully. Before I can think of a way to celebrate, I notice a message from Master Cun Dao: “Don’t jump back to regular eating just yet!”
It turns out that we have to go through two more weeks of “easing back”. We are only allowed to eat very little in the next week, and a little bit more the week after. Remarkably, I find that eating a little is a lot harder than not eating at all.
In order to “ease back” properly, we are told to start with half a small bowl of simple millet congee for breakfast, and a small bowl of vegetable-only soup for lunch, nothing for dinner. Vegetable-only means you can eat a variety of vegetables, but nothing else, not even salt.
After fasting for 7 days, my taste buds become super sensitive. A boiled pot of sliced cucumber, chopped cabbage, and diced turnip tastes just as yummy as any well seasoned chicken soup. It is also the first time in my life that I find the freshly diced tomato can be so incredibly delicious, adding so much flavor to the soup.
“What does my body need? What do I, as a person, want?” That is a very good question to ask ourselves from time to time. We will only be in control when we are able to tell the difference of what we need from what we want.
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