20

Do Friends Let Friends
Eat Junk Food?

I HAVE WRITTEN EIGHT BOOKS advocating a healthier way of life and a more nutritious diet. These books have sold millions of copies, and have been translated into about thirty languages, so I know that my work has touched many lives. My first book, Diet for a New America, was originally published in 1987, before the advent of email and the Internet. I received more than 60,000 letters (yes, actual letters) from readers thanking me for the inspiration and support they felt they had gotten from the book. To do this work has been a privilege, and I am grateful for the opportunities I have had to help people take responsibility for their health and for their relationship with the wider Earth community.

Nonetheless, like most people, I have friends and family members who aren't much interested in what I have to say. And, of course, I am surrounded—as we all are—by a culture of processed and industrialized food, sold to us by corporations that bombard us from our earliest childhood with ads pushing us to consume food-like substances that are egregiously high in sugar, bad fats, additives, and calories virtually devoid of nutrition.

I'm often asked how I relate to people who apparently aren't interested in taking any responsibility for healthy food choices. Usually, I don't try too hard with such people. My books are available, as are many other fine books and documentaries supporting people in eating a diet that is higher in nutrition. But of course, if they are family members or friends, it's not so easy to simply walk away. And sometimes, it's a real struggle.

I try to accept these struggles with as much grace as possible, and to remember that, even if I dislike someone's actions, I can still retain a connection to their hearts.

One of my friends suffers from chronic depression. He eats a diet that consists primarily of French fries, soft drinks, and burgers. I'm not sure he would recognize a vegetable if he saw one. Because he knows that I eat much more healthfully, he feels a need from time to time to justify his eating habits to me. The last time that happened, he repeated something that I've often heard him say:

“Things are so bad, I may as well try and get a little pleasure.”

“Yes,” I replied on this particular occasion, knowing of his suffering and wanting to be kind, but also knowing that I needed to say something that didn't collude with his self-pity. “I've heard you say that often. And I agree that is one way to look at it. Might you be open to hearing another possibility?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Like what?”

“I hear you saying that life can be difficult, so why not take the little pleasures that are available.”

“Yes, exactly,” he replied.

“Well, on the other hand, do you think it might be possible for you to get a lot of pleasure out of life by taking better care of yourself and being more healthy and vibrant?”

He did not seem hopeful. For today, anyway, his cynicism prevailed. I gave him a hug and told him that whatever he did, I would still love him. I didn't feel that my words had been useful to him, but I did feel my caring for him and also that I was being true to myself, so I was glad that I had spoken up.

When we parted that day, I offered him a simple prayer: May you live from your deepest truth in a way that enables you to thrive.

I have another friend who is more than 100 pounds overweight, and who frequently complains about how bad she feels and how little energy she has. She starts her day with donuts and coffee for breakfast, and refers to her kitchen as “Junk Food Central.” One day, I watched her eat the entire contents of an extra-large bag of Oreo cookies. She then recited her mantra, the thing she says repeatedly to justify her unhealthy eating patterns:

“Why deprive myself?” she says. “You only live once.”

Usually, when she says that, I just smile and wish her a good day. I know that her life is difficult, and I know also that she is so set in her ways that there really isn't much point in saying anything. But on this particular day, watching her gorge herself on Oreos was too much for me. I couldn't stay silent any longer.

“If you only live once,” I said, “wouldn't it make more sense to eat healthier food so you could get the most out of this one life by feeling more alive and having more energy?”

As you can see, I can be a bit of a pest. It's a wonder my friends stick around. In this case, my words did not fall on receptive ears.

“Health,” she retorted loudly, “is just a matter of karma and genetics. What you eat is at most 1 percent of it.”

I was quiet for awhile. I didn't see much point in arguing with her. But she wouldn't let it rest.

“What do you say to that?” she demanded.

“I'm just thinking,” I answered slowly, “about how easy it is to be in denial without knowing it.”

“Are you implying that I'm in denial?” she said testily.

“I don't know,” I answered. “What do you think? Do you think there's the teeniest tiniest bit of a chance that you might be just a little bit?”

She picked up her kitchen towel and swatted me with it teasingly.

“Oh, John,” she said. “Whatever am I going to do with you? You're unrelenting. But you really do care about me, don't you?”

At that moment I was glad that I'm tall. When we hugged, my long arms reached all the way around her. Our eyes caught, there was a moment of shared understanding, and we laughed.

May we all have the courage to change the things we can, the serenity to accept the things we can't, and the wisdom to know the difference.