Up till now we have discussed many aspects of “disordered eating.” The question that naturally arises is what is “ordered eating”? What is a harmonious approach to eating, if indeed there is such a thing? We have already seen that the solutions of those who claim to have the answers to enlightened eating differ greatly from each other, and the key is to understand that all the perspectives on eating are, within certain limits, “correct.” Each approach is composed of a small portion of a larger spectrum of nutrition, a piece of the bigger nourishment puzzle.
Through observation and study of the different nutritional approaches, I have synthesized what I consider to be the most important principles of each. I call this approach ordered eating. It is a collection of twenty of the best guidelines for eating and is useful as a reference tool, a way to compare our current perspective on eating to one much broader in scope. Because I have chosen to make these guidelines as free of nutritional dogma as possible, I have left out specifics about the best foods to eat, best combinations, and so on. As a result, the principles can be applied to almost any nutritional approach.
Over the years I have utilized these principles as guidelines to uncover something that is already within me, instead of hard and fast rules that drive me to become what I am not yet ready to be. For example, I consistently eat seasonal foods, but I do not force myself to do so. I tried eating seasonal foods, it worked, and it became a natural and spontaneous aspect of my diet. I also eat many healthy, high-quality foods, but not because I think I should. They taste good, I enjoy them, and when I eat them my body in its own unique way says yes.
I should note that when I first started eating healthy foods, I did so as an experiment. I read about many nutritional principles and decided to test the effects of a healthy diet. Eating foods that were supposedly good for me was a new concept and did not come naturally. I recall the first time I ate seaweed. I was in a vegetarian restaurant in Boston and saw a special on the menu that had nori in it. The other ingredients in the dish sounded edible, so I ordered it because I had heard many wonderful things about the miraculous properties of seaweed. The experience of eating it did not seem miraculous at all. For days afterward a fishy odor lingered in my nose.
About a year later, having improved my level of health and energy through experimenting with diet and exercise, I tried seaweed again. I could not believe how good it tasted and how great it felt. More than cultivating a taste for seaweed, I had cultivated a taste for health-enhancing foods.
The ordered eating guidelines are especially helpful because they focus not only on health but on attitude to health. For years I ate with tension and judged the eating habits of myself and others. After endless searching for the perfect diet, I reached a place inside myself that acknowledged that wherever I was as an eater, was okay. If I ate turkey or tuna, it was fine. If I wanted ice cream, I was okay. Even if I ate nachos and guacamole until I was sick, I was still okay. By breaking free of rules fueled by fear and judgment, I was able to make awakened choices that worked.
And, paradoxically, letting go of rules allowed me to return to them with renewed insight and a healthier momentum. I now have a lively appreciation for nourishment rather than a list of do’s and don’t’s. This is one of the great pleasures I experience with diet—eating foods that I know are good for me and that also taste and feel good.
I still have quirks and problematic areas with eating; however, I do not create any tension or judgments about these parts of myself. I simply observe and experiment with great fascination. If I eat because I am upset, I do not create further tension by judging myself for eating out of an emotional need. I merely catalog this piece of information somewhere inside and stay alert to the benefits and drawbacks.
Once we accept the unpredictable nature of our bodies, our relationship to food becomes naturally exciting. It intrigues me to watch my food preferences change, how one week I will desire almond butter and then for months lose my taste for it, or how I’ll crave raisin bran cereal in the morning for a period of time and then switch to oatmeal instead. For many people such shifts in food preferences are discomforting. And yet these changes are the essence of the eating experience.
It is quite rare to find someone who has created a successful working relationship to diet. Over the years I have observed only a handful of individuals who possess the qualities I seek most—a sense of aliveness, a radiant energy, a body that exudes health no matter what the age, and a personal philosophy that, for them, genuinely works. Despite the very different diets and life paths they follow, the “expert eaters” all have the following attributes in common:
Body size and food selection are not primary criteria for masterful eaters. As we have seen, one could have an ideal body or achieve a dream body weight yet still be unhappy, or we can eat what we consider the perfect foods yet still experience guilt, cravings, and ill health. The expert eaters, as do others, still encounter challenges with food. What distinguishes their mastery is attitude.
To some degree we are all disordered eaters. Each of us experiences some form of discord in our relationship to food simply because that is the nature of the game. None of us can escape imperfection in eating or in anything in life. So it is fruitless to attach any kind of stigma to our relationship to food.
Each of us, in our own way and our own time, is searching for a nourishment that reflects who we are and how we wish to experience life. Some search for a fulfilling nutrition simply by eating what tastes good, some choose highly regimented diets, some abuse the body and learn the hard way, while others seem to eat what they want without any ill effects.
The bottom line is this: No diet is right or wrong. Any method of eating can provide a deeper nourishment as long as the missing ingredient—consciousness—is present. The ability to reflect on our relationship to food and the awareness that we can expand our perspective on eating at any moment help create the life we want most.