Food awareness and parable

What foods would you like to make?

These days, the kind of food I prefer to eat is no longer just about taste or satisfaction. It begins with a pause. I stare at the plate before me and ask, “Must I eat this?”

There was a time when I used to gobble up food without a second thought—rushing meals, filling my stomach, and then collapsing into an afternoon nap. But instead of waking up refreshed, I would get up even more tired than before.

Last night, I watched a conversation between Sadhguru and Chef Hala Alyas on “The Secret Sauce of Success: Love and Life.” Something shifted inside me. It made me wonder—Has my body been trying to speak to me all along? And have I been too blind to listen?

The itchiness on my skin, the swelling in my feet, the morning sickness where flame-like energy surges out of me as soon as I get up and move—it all began to make sense. My body wasn’t just reacting; it was crying out for change.

I remembered the second sign: the allure of roadside food. The smell alone was enough to make me pull over and buy something hot, spicy, and tempting. I gave in a few times. It looked delicious—until the aftermath. Bloating, constipation, and a swollen anus that left me in pain for weeks. The temporary pleasure came with a lingering cost.

Those flashbacks now serve as reminders—glimpses of how food can either nourish or punish. I remind myself: This body is my vehicle. If I want to transform, it must begin here.

During a visit to see my father—once active and alert—I saw him strapped to a hospital bed. Dementia had claimed him. Violent episodes left him restrained, and recovery seemed far away. I remember how he used to drink soda after soda, plastic bottle after plastic bottle. In the video, it was said that even 26% of plastic content in the brain can be linked to dementia. That fact hit me hard. Could something so seemingly harmless become a silent poison over time?

That image is etched in my mind. I don’t want that fate. I don’t want to be unaware, passive, or helpless. This life is short, and I must care for this body before it’s too late.

So now, I choose my food as I choose my life: with awareness.

I prepare meals that feel alive—fresh, simple, and clean. I chant, I do my kriyas, and I remind myself daily: healing is not a destination, it is a practice.

Food is no longer just a fuel for the body—it is a conversation with the self, a silent act of love, a daily prayer of gratitude.