Dear Reader, hi!  

We read labels. Choose organic when we can. We gather healthful recipes. We put tremendous care into what eventually finds its way onto the plate. Yet, when it comes to how we receive what we are taking in, our attention gets hijacked.

Of course, what we eat matters. But what about the person who is there to receive it?

Does the weight of our stress go away when we pick up that fork with our organic delight?

If we arrive at the table hurried, distracted, still carrying the concerns of the day, we’re bringing that into our meal.

There is something tender about how we try to care for ourselves. But in the overdoing of the trying, we almost inevitably lose the forest for the trees. To judge this tendency would only create yet another problem. But to create a little space to pause and notice…
Ahh…
There is something especially organic about that!

A woman came to me carrying a legit level of anxiety around eating after receiving a significant diagnosis.

She came loaded with information about what she should and shouldn’t eat. And she did not like the remarkably small practice I offered her to start. Still, she was willing to experiment.

Off she went to light a candle for one of her daily meals for a week.

That single tiny ritual opened a big door. She experienced the permission to pause from the concerns. She began to notice that a meal was about to happen. And that she was there to receive it.

A seed was planted. Something grew. Someone harvested it. Then the hands that prepared it. She began to consider all that went into what eventually came onto her plate…

And one day, here’s what became apparent:

Nourishment is not something we consume.

The difference between consuming something and meeting it is subtle but it is not small.

Receiving asks for participation. Not perfection. Participation.

And if you’re hearing “be completely present at every meal” pls scratch that. That's not real life.

But get curious about what you may find when creating a little space. A candle, an exhale, some music, for just one meal. That is enough to begin. Now, if you get to repeat the dose the next day, you may be surprised by how much more there is to notice.

You may sit down ravenous, the kind of hunger that typically takes you straight to overfull. But this time, you give your full attention to that first bite. And then what? The hunger immediately vanishes?
No.
Yet, you catch how its urgency softens.

Or you notice that instead of salting your lunch, you make room to get curious about identifying the tastes in that meal. The salt habit immediately vanishes?
No.
Yet, flavors become more available.

Enough begins to make itself known.
The food may not have changed at all. But something about your availability to receive what you’re taking in has.

Am I here to receive what I am taking in?