Before the meal
Before eating, we take a moment. Not ten seconds stolen between two tasks, but a real moment of pause, of breathing, of presence. We stop. We let the noise of the world fade away to focus on the act that will follow. It is a necessary transition between the hustle and bustle of the day and the ritual of nutrition. Without this moment, we eat in chaos, and the body receives chaos. Clarity begins with silence.
We look at what we are going to receive with new eyes. We recognize the sacrifice of the fish that left the ocean to give us strength. We recognize the work of the land which made these vegetables grow under the sun and the rain. We respect effort, life, the cycle. This is not superstition, this is pure gratitude. By honoring the source, we prepare our own body to receive the food with kindness. Respect is the best appetizer.
Attentive gestures
Each gesture when cooking is attentive, inhabited, conscious. You don't prepare a meal like you fill a tank. We create a work of care. How I cut the fish, how precisely I arrange the herbs, how I watch the flame... every detail counts. It is a meditation in movement, where the hand and the mind work in harmony. The quality of intention is transmitted to matter. A meal cooked with love and attention does not taste the same as one prepared in haste.
No automation. We don't let our thoughts wander to tomorrow's worries or yesterday's regrets. We are there, with the knife, with the fire, with the smell of manuka. This presence transforms the kitchen into a sacred space, a refuge against modern dispersion. We learn to love the process as much as the result. Consciousness is the salt of life, it gives depth to every action. It is a discipline that makes us more human.
Inner silence
This awareness creates a deep and calming inner silence. Not the silence of an empty room or an absence of noise, but the silence of a present, centered, aligned mind. It is a mental rest that we offer ourselves several times a day. By focusing on sensations — the texture of the fish, the color of the vegetables, the crackling of the grill — we cut short the incessant chatter of the ego. We find its own essence in the simplicity of the gesture.
A peace settles. We feel his shoulders relax, his breath deepen. We are no longer chasing something, we are simply there. This calm is essential for good digestion. The body cannot assimilate nutrients properly if it is in 'fight or flight' mode. By creating this silence, we give the signal to the parasympathetic system to take over. Health is the fruit of this newfound tranquility.
During the meal
When I eat, I am fully present to the experience. I don't look at my phone screen, I don't read the news, I don't talk about stressful topics. I am with my plate, with my senses. I chew slowly, conscientiously, savoring every nuance. I smell the marine protein which gives me strength, I taste the minerality of the vegetables. It’s a sensory exploration that fills me with joy and gratitude.
At 45, I finally recognize: that digestion begins in the mind, long before food reaches the stomach. If the mind is agitated, the stomach knots. If the mind is serene, the body opens. Eating consciously facilitates the work of your own metabolism. It’s a fundamental form of self-care. We don't just ingest calories, we absorb life. And life requires attention to be fully received.
After the meal
Afterwards, the body receives better, much better. We feel the energy circulating without obstacle, satiety settling in lastingly, the mind remaining clear. No bloating, no post-meal fatigue, no feeling of heaviness. Because the mind was present, the body was able to do its work smoothly. We leave the table with renewed vitality, ready to resume our day with enthusiasm. The meal was a source of power, not a burden.
Because I didn't fight my body, it doesn't fight me back. It’s a non-aggression pact that you sign with yourself at every meal. By eating consciously, we avoid excesses and bad choices dictated by impulse. You become the master of your own nutrition. Clarity is the result of this harmony. We feel light, alert, alive. It is the signature of a cuisine that makes sense.
Ancient Maori practice
It's an ancient Maori practice: to eat is to meditate. It is a ritual of respect that links us to our ancestors and our land. This is not an imported Buddhist technique or a New Age fad, it has always been our way of being. The meal is the time when the tribe comes together, where Mana is shared, where life is celebrated. It is a spiritual act embodied in the rawest matter. The sacred is on the plate.
This is precisely where when you eat consciously, glycemic stability increases, digestion improves, metabolism becomes clearer. It's physiological, not just spiritual. Modern science is only beginning to understand what our ancestors knew instinctively: that the state of mind changes the chemistry of the body. My cooking is a tribute to this wisdom, an invitation to slow down to live better. Clarity is my horizon, awareness is my path. ¡Zhu ni hao wei kou e viva a conscience real!
