The other day, Jay asked me to make him some oatmeal. Simple, right?
I tossed some rolled oats into a pot, splashed in the water, brought it to a boil, and served him a steaming bowl of oat mush. He blinked at it, puzzled.
"How did you make this?" he asked.
I told him.
"No, no," he said. "That turns it into mush! When it's cooked right, the grains are soft but still whole and true—it's much better."
It was a tiny moment, a small thing, but something in me shifted. Instead of feeling criticized (which once would've been my go-to reaction), I got curious. I asked him to teach me. "How do you do it?"
He explained: boil the water first, then add the oats, bring it back to a boil, turn off the heat, cover, and let sit for ten minutes.
This moment became a small invitation to slow down, to be willing to learn something I thought I already knew. I had inadvertently tossed oatmeal into the "just get it done" box in my mind. I mean—it's oatmeal. Who has time for reverent attention to detail over oatmeal?
And yet… it reminded me that a beginner's mind is available anytime, even at my beloved stove.
A History of Slow Change
Jay and I have experimented with different diets for over twenty years now. It started with a genuine medical mystery: chronic Giardia causing stomach issues, which ultimately led to his inability to tolerate gluten. Then, I tracked sugar as a migraine trigger. Later, after watching two parents live with Alzheimer's, we began researching preventative diets, devouring books like The End of Alzheimer's by Dr. Dale Bredesen and The Plant Paradox by Dr. Gundry.
And then, nightshades. Oof. We reluctantly gave up tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and potatoes after discovering they caused inflammation in our joints. (Particularly painful for a couple of hot-pepper-loving climbers who love their hands.) Even now, one sneaky tomato can leave us inflamed for a week.
We’ve settled on a gluten-free, sugar-free, nightshade-free diet. And now, Jay recently added a new request: no processed food. We're already mostly there, but we've stepped even more into eating what we've come to call Real Food. There's a "Real Foods" list on our fridge now: foods as close to their natural state as possible. Simple. Whole. True.
And this new approach, this deeper attention to food, has reminded me how far I've come from the woman who once hated cooking.
Back when our girls were little, I fed them what I could manage. Honestly? Lots of Top Ramen with veggies thrown in. I never felt like much of a cook—just getting dinner on the table felt heroic. At some point, I started saying out loud, "I did it! I made dinner!" The kids thought it was hilarious and started cheering me on, too. That helped a lot.
Now, years later, I've grown into what I call a peasant cook. I love making soup. I enjoy wandering through a meal idea in my head, pulling together ingredients, and making something nourishing. And yet, I still catch myself rushing. Sometimes, it takes a little bowl of mushy oatmeal to remind me what I value.
A Word Diet
Jay and I recently had a classic miscommunication—the kind where you think you're saying one thing, and your partner hears something entirely different. We both felt frustrated and disconnected. But instead of entirely spiraling (like we once might have), we expressed our mutual desire to communicate better. "Is there something we're missing here?"
Jay remembered a chapter from Christopher Wallis' book Near Enemies of the Truth, where he explores the difference between opinions and inalienable truths. He explains how most of us say "I feel…" when what we're expressing is a thought or a judgment:
"I feel like you don't respect me."
"I feel unsupported."
These aren't actual feelings; they're interpretations. What's missing is the real emotional experience: I feel sad, lonely, and scared.
That hit home.
Wallis credits Marshall Rosenberg's book Nonviolent Communication, which (though I'd heard of it many times—including in the last month!) I'd never actually read. So, I got it.
Now, taped to the fridge right above our "Real Foods" list is a new list—a word list. It is a reference guide to actual feelings—real, in-the-body emotions. Words like joyful, calm, grateful, excited, hurt, discouraged, tense, and vulnerable—not faux feelings like "attacked" or "ignored," which are judgments in disguise.
I've started thinking of it as a word diet—a way of removing the artificial, the processed, and the habitual from how I speak. Just like the real foods list, this, too, is about going deeper into the essence of things—saying what's real, feeling what's true—describing an inalienable truth.
It's vulnerable, yes, but also nourishing. There's a strange relief in slowing down and being honest with yourself about how you actually feel.
And sometimes, just like oatmeal, it takes a little willingness—and some attention to detail—to get it just right.
Juicy Practice: Go on a Word Diet
Just like real food nourishes the body, words that reflect our true feelings nourish connection—both with ourselves and others.
This week, try this:
Notice when you say “I feel like…” or “I feel that…”
Pause. Ask: Is what I’m about to say a real feeling—or a thought, judgment, or interpretation?
Try to name the actual emotion in your body. Sad? Angry? Nervous? Curious? Grateful?
To help, consider posting Rosenberg’s Feelings and Needs Reference Guide on your fridge or desk. Let it be your new “Word Diet” list—right beside your “Real Foods” list.
And here’s a gentle practice to carry with you:
Before each meal—or each time you go to speak—pause.
Is what I’m about to take in or express grounded in what’s whole and true?
Whole vs. Mushy
It’s funny how a bowl of oats can hold a mirror to the way we speak and connect.
Just like food, our words can be rushed and mushy—lacking real nourishment—or whole and true, offered with care.
Both take the same basic ingredients. It’s the presence and attention to detail we bring that makes all the difference.
Good News & Upcoming Events
Book Ranking Boost!
Naked in the Now recently hit #5 in Amazon's New Age Meditation category! That's out of 6 million books—thank you for spreading the word.
Upcoming Offerings:
• Write by Red Rock – July 2, 2025 @ 12:30 PM, Blue Diamond Library, NV
• Write Now Mind – Mid-session but still open to join; next session likely August or September
• Naked Writing Workshop – August 9, 2025 @ 2 PM, Village Books and Paper Dreams, Bellingham, WA.
Note: Chapter 8 of Naked in the Now (Communication Tips Unveiled) is about mindful communication—including some of my other favorite tricks, such as the bridge-building power of a simple smile. If you haven't read it yet, it pairs beautifully with this week's exploration.
