Cooking Light Magazine
Reprinted with kind permission of the author

This '70s therapy has in the fight against ills.
But does it work?

fflicted by the heebie-jeebies that medical it gadgetry always induces in hypochondriacs like me, I struggle to stay calm. Rob Kall, M.Ed., director of the Biofeedback Center for Optimal Living in suburban Philadelphia, smiles reassuringly before squeezing two dollops of 1020 Paste atop my balding pate. He attaches twin electrodes over my brain's motor cortex. Then he cleans a small patch of jaw with alcohol and fastens a third "ground" electrode to it. Before me, two blue bar graphs bounce across a monitor.

"Those are your theta waves on the left and your SMR [sensory motor rhythm] waves on the right," Kali says. The object, he explains, is to simultaneously reduce theta and boost SMR waves. If I can do that, my brain will theoretically enter a zone of relaxed but focused attention--an exceptionally receptive state for learning and other high-level cogitation. (I have my work cut out for me, because the bar graphs are precisely opposite where they should be.)

"Imagine if life was like that," Kali says. "Imagine if you just had to stop altogether what you were doing when your brain wasn't functioning within an acceptable range. What really happens, of course, is that we just keep on going, even though we aren't processing information well or doing our jobs properly."

"Any tricks or strategies I can use?" I ask, the graphs going temporarily haywire when I speak.

"It helps to stay still and quiet," he says. "But beyond that, there's an internal kind of navigation that takes place, and each person has to figure out for themselves what works for them. It's a matter of sitting with the machine and noticing how you feel when the signals tell you you're doing things right." He types in a few adjustments, and visual cues begin to appear on the screen. A large oval materializes between the bar graphs, surrounding a smaller rectangle that appears to contain a zero. I will myself to settle down and focus, and after a few seconds, the oval lights up in green, a sooth- ing hum commences, and the zero changes to one, then two. The process is working--I'm controlling my heebie-jeebies rather than permitting them to control me.

BIOFEEDBACK, for many, summons '70s-era images of maharishis and mood rings. But it's far more mainstream these days, used regularly to treat stress, pain, and incontinence. Its goal is control over the autonomic nervous system; its approach involves sensors that detect such subtle anatomical data as temperature changes in your fingers or tiny movements in forehead muscles. With practice, you can teach yourself to regulate anything from blood pressure to heart rate.

A related therapy that I'm experiencing at Rob Kails clinic--neurofeedback, or EEC (electro-encephalogram) feedback--focuses directly on brain activity instead of the peripheral nervous system.

And because the brain is your body's ultimate regulator, proponents of neurofeedback consider it more powerful and capable of effecting changes that are longer-lasting than those of biofeedback. Neurofeedback measures four kinds of brain waves:

. Delta waves, the slowest, which predominate during deep sleep;
. Theta waves, characteristic of that dreamy cusp separating sleep from consciousness,
. Alpha waves, products of a relaxed mind that's aware of its environment;
. Beta waves, which are the high-frequency hallmark of full wakefulness.

An experienced neurofeedback practitioner (there are about 4,000 of them in the United States) tries to help you learn to summon different brain states as needed-slower waves to address anxiety or post-traumatic stress disorder, when the brain seems stuck in high gear; faster waves for conditions like depression, a slow-gear problem.

The technology shows particular promise in treating attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder and other behavioral problems. In Yonkers, New York, where it was introduced into several public schools as a cost-effective alternative to medication, officials say that neurofeedback has saved at least $500,000 in special-education costs over the past four years. "Neurofeedback has the potential to change people's lives," Kali tells me. "ADHD kids can use it to learn how to sit quietly in the classroom and still be themselves. People like you can learn how to more efficiently modulate your energy, to crank it out when you need it and conserve it when you don't."

Both neurofeedback and biofeedback have gained acceptance as forms of complementary medicine, but there is still debate about how well they work. Critics contend that double-blind studies in which neither the study subject nor the technician knows whether real or fake treatment is being administered are necessary tor total objectivity. (Also, in the case of ADHD, it's unclear whether neurofeedback itself or positive interac-tion with the practitioner improves a child's condition.)

Supporters counter that such research is extremely expensive and difficult to carry out, and that outcome studies-which simply track the results of a particular form of treatment-are better suited to neurofeedback and other mind/ body techniques. The consequence for consumers: Not all insurers are willing to cover the expense, so patients typically shell out $40 to $100 per session (a full course of therapy generally runs five to 50 sessions).

MY OWN TRAINING today is patterned after that for ADHD and hyperactivity. Though I don't actually suffer from these conditions, the same techniques should theoretically hone my waking mind into a more receptive and focused instru- ment. The basic game plan: to reduce theta waves (which incline you to ants- in-the-pants distractibility) while raising SMR waves at the lower end of beta frequencies.

Over the next 45 minutes, I get a small taste of such control. Though I never quite figure out exactly what it is I'm doing, I slowly find my way more and more into the soothing hum zone where lit numbers tick away inside the green rectangle.

Perhaps it's a placebo effect, but I must say I do feel crisper mentally, and all traces of my earlier anxiety have long since melted away. I glance at the num- bers inside the rectangle: 1,119 seconds. I've accumulated nearly 20 minutes of zone time. It's a place I'd definitely love to revisit.

Better Health