SLEEPING AND EATING
Man’s rich restorative, his balmy bath
That supplies, lubricates and keeps in play
The various movements of this nice machine.
YOUNG.
“There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of” in
anybody’s philosophy or understanding of living; it is not strange that
the great mass have not dreamed of eating as a cause of sleeplessness
and ill-health, though they may dream in consequence of it. It is
generally believed that a hearty meal of any indigestible food
immediately before bed is bad for sleep: yet animals and primitive
men always sleep after they are gorged. But few recognize that the
whole plan of eating may be responsible for sleeplessness or excessive
sleepiness. For, like fatigue, food may either bring or prevent sleep.
In these days not even the most fastidious will object to a discussion
of the ethics and æsthetics of feeding. It is no longer “the
gratification of a vulgar necessity,” but a matter of keen scientific
interest. Colleges give courses in the chemistry of food that we may
know what combinations it is wise to make, while some of the leading
universities have made severe practical tests of some of the new “fads
in eating.” There are so many theories of eating to-day that one may
take his choice, and, if the quality of both health and sleep is not
improved, he can run through the list and then take what is best of
each.
When Dr. W. W. Hall wrote his book on fresh air in the sleeping-room,
he added, in a casual sort of way, this piece of advice to the would-be
sleeper, “Always eat slowly and in moderation of well-divided food.”
That is advice that will bear infinite repetition. It is really the
keynote of all the present-day theories of eating. It applies equally
well to omnivorous and vegetarian peoples.
Horace Fletcher says, “You may eat anything you like, if you eat it
at the right time and in the right way,” and, when one has learned
what Mr. Fletcher thinks is the right time and way, one has grasped
the whole of “Fletcherism.” It consists in eating only when one is
hungry—so hungry that “the mouth waters and one could stand and whinny
like a horse at the smell of bread”—and then chewing just as long as
there is any taste left to the food. I have known children to get
the habit of eating too fast, with indigestion and restlessness as a
consequence, because the nurse stood beside the table with a spoonful
always ready and waiting while the last was being swallowed. We may
avoid that habit for ourselves or cure ourselves of it by always laying
down the knife and fork or spoon after each mouthful. This insures some
time to chew.
It is the opinion of all those who have special theories on “what to
eat and how to eat it” that civilized man scarcely knows what true
hunger is. We are so in the habit of eating at fixed and customary
hours that we create “habit hunger,” which has but slight connection
with Nature’s demands for sustenance. In accordance with this idea,
fasting is again becoming popular and all sorts of good results are
claimed for it. The “devil of unrest and disease” is now being
reckoned among “those that go not out but by fasting and prayer.”
Fasting and prayer meant the physical and the spiritual treatment
together.
Fasting has long been imposed upon man as a religious rite, generally
as penance for some “sin,” but now it is being advised and
self-imposed for the sake of its physical advantages. It may well be
that the habit of fasting for health’s sake originated with prehistoric
man and was diverted into religious channels and its original
significance forgotten. So many “religious rites” have come about in
this way that it is fair to assume that fasting may have, also.
However that may be, the practice is coming into scientific prominence,
and Charles C. Haskell in his book, “Perfect Health: How to Get it
and How to Keep it, by One Who Has It,” made much of the importance of
fasting. If one is ill, fasting will make him well, according to Mr.
Haskell. He gives numerous instances of the benefits that have followed
fasts extending from one to nine or even more days. Mr. Upton Sinclair
has written of his happy experience of abstinence in “The Fasting
Cure.” As soon as the system is ready for food, true hunger will
appear, says Mr. Haskell, and, like Mr. Fletcher, he regards “watering
at the mouth”—the free flow of saliva—as the best index of real hunger.
But, unlike Fletcher, Haskell is a vegetarian pure and simple, as that
word is generally understood. Haskell says, “Nature has provided
a natural food for man, and it is the vegetable kingdom.” He also
strongly urges upon the seeker for sound health, which means sound
sleep, to give up the habit of taking breakfast, thus conquering
appetite and restoring real hunger. This is, indeed, the first precept
he lays down; and the second is much like it. It runs, “Never eat
except at the call of Natural Hunger.” Third, “Enjoy to the full every
mouthful of food as long as any taste remains in it.” Fourth, “Do
not drink any liquids with your meals.” The rules are simple enough
to follow if you have any cause to suspect that your mode of life is
the cause of “poor sleep.” This book has no special brand of food to
recommend, nor does it intend to say what any man should or should not
eat. Sir Henry Thompson is about right when he says that “No man can
tell another what he can or ought to eat, without knowing what are the
habits of life and work—mental and bodily—of the person to be advised.
One rule cannot apply to all.”
All that the writer aims to do is to set forth the best theories of
how to insure sound sleep and good health, and to leave it to the
individual reader to try whichever he thinks fits. It is what he will
do, anyway, if he is a wise man; for only by following the course he
most desires can he learn whether these desires are to be trusted as
guides to happiness and well-being.
But—most persons eat too much or too often or too fast. Maybe you do,
too.