By Sarah D. Park

I tried mindful eating for the first time a few years ago. It’s a practice of being fully present to the process and sensations of a meal without doing anything else at the same time. I emphasize the last part because I didn’t realize just how often I am doing something else while eating.

I’m particularly guilty of multi-tasking during breakfast, be it reading, reviewing my schedule, or scrolling on my phone. Something about the urgency of mornings — the need to take advantage of my energy at its peak — made being present to the slow chew of my yogurt with berries and granola deeply unnerving. I’m talking about taking deliberate chews, noting how my molars mashed, discerning how many nuances Chobani low-fat yogurt could possibly contain.

Some questions arose. How else could my mornings look like? Why can’t I relax? Is this something only privileged people can do? What does mindfulness look like when I’m eating my kid’s leftovers off the table? Why do I love and hate this? What the heck is my tongue doing?

Mindful eating really put me in my body to a weird extreme. It’s one thing to enjoy my food and another to pay attention to my own body’s creaturely mechanisms.

If I were younger, I would’ve followed my discomfort and explored it further. But these days, I’m leaning more into how I’m made. That was the first and only time I ate a meal in this fashion. It may not be for me, or even you, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

Sarah D. Park is a freelance writer whose work focuses on the cultivation of cross-racial dialogue with a Christian faith orientation. She is also a story producer for Inheritance Magazine and manages communications for several organizations. She currently calls the Bay Area her home but is an Angeleno through and through.