Do We Really Know How to Eat?
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Childhood Memories at the Table When I was a child, my dad used to tell a funny story about me. Every time someone brought food to the house, the moment I saw it, I would run away. I was extremely skinny because I simply didn’t enjoy eating very much. While other children looked forward to meals, I treated food almost like something I needed to escape from. But there were a few things I loved deeply. My favorite meal was incredibly simple: rice with cucumber and soy sauce. I loved vegetables and sour fruits, especially cucumbers and rose apples. Many times, I asked my dad if I could just eat rice and cucumber and nothing else. I also ate unbelievably slowly. In fact, I had a strange habit of holding food in my mouth for an exceptionally long time because I didn’t want to swallow it yet. I would sit quietly at the table, slowly chewing, almost as if I wanted to make the moment last forever. My dad used to joke that I was late for school many times because of this. While everyone else finished breakfast quickly, I was still sitting there with the same bite of food in my mouth. At the time, of course, I wasn’t practicing mindfulness. I was simply a stubborn little girl who didn’t like to eat. But now that I am older, I sometimes look back and wonder if that slow way of eating was quietly teaching me something. Because the truth is, many of us go through life without ever really learning how to eat. Eating is something we do every day, yet we rarely stop to think about it. We eat because we are hungry, because it is lunchtime, or simply because food is there. It feels automatic, like breathing. But if we pause for a moment and look more closely, something interesting appears. Take something as ordinary as an apple. It may seem like a simple piece of fruit, but when we look carefully, we begin to see that it did not come from nowhere. That apple grew slowly on a tree that needed sunlight, rain, fertile soil, and time. A farmer cared for the orchard. Someone harvested the fruit, packed it, transported it, and placed it in a market where we eventually found it. Inside that apple there is sunshine and there are clouds. There is the patience of nature and the labor of many people. In a quiet way, the entire universe has come together so that this apple can rest in our hand. Yet most of the time we do not see any of this. Eating Without Being Present Our body may be sitting at the table, but our mind is somewhere else. We eat while checking our phones, watching television, worrying about work, or planning tomorrow. When this happens, we eat but we do not really taste. We look at our food, but we do not truly see it. Eating becomes mechanical instead of meaningful. When we slow down and eat with awareness, something quite different happens. Each bite becomes richer. We notice the texture, the flavor, and the nourishment our body receives. Eating becomes more than a routine activity. It becomes a moment of presence. In that moment, food is not just something we consume. It becomes something we receive. Sharing food with others can deepen this experience even more. When we sit with family or friends and enjoy a meal together without rushing, something simple but beautiful takes place. A meal becomes more than food. It becomes connection. But our relationship with food is not always so peaceful. Sometimes we eat because we are bored, lonely, or anxious. Food becomes a way to comfort ourselves rather than a way to nourish our body. I remember a funny moment with my younger brother that made me think about this. One day he asked me a profoundly serious question. He wanted to know when he would die. Of course, I was surprised and asked him why he wanted to know something like that. He looked at me and said, half joking but completely sincere, that he wanted to know so he could eat an entire cake without anyone stopping him. His answer made me laugh so hard. But it also reminded me how naturally we associate food with pleasure. I tried to explain to him that enjoying food is wonderful, but eating too much of one thing can hurt our body. Learning how to eat well is something we slowly discover throughout our lives. Another realization came to me as I grew older. Our body does not truly belong only to us. It carries the life of our ancestors, the care of our parents, and the conditions that allowed us to exist. The trees, the soil, the rain, the sunlight, and countless living beings all contribute to the food that builds our body. When we see this clearly, eating becomes an act of gratitude. Preparing food can also become a quiet practice. When we cook slowly and with care, the meal carries that energy. People are not only eating the ingredients. They are also receiving the attention and love that goes into preparing the food. The choices we make about food also affect the world around us. What we eat influences the health of our body, the well-being of animals, and even the condition of the planet. So, the simple question, “What shall I eat today?” becomes a much deeper question than it first appears. Each meal offers a small opportunity to pause, breathe, and reconnect with the present moment. Eating well is not about expensive ingredients or complicated recipes. It is about awareness. It is about remembering that food carries the work of many people and the generosity of the Earth. Perhaps learning how to eat is really another way of learning how to live. And sometimes the simplest meal, a bowl of rice with cucumber and soy sauce, just like the one I loved as a child, can quietly remind us of that truth. Before eating, we can pause for a moment and remember a few simple truths.
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