Food does not rank high on my list. I eat to live, and I'm very

In the great journey of life, where the body is our vessel and the mind is our guide, the choices we make in nourishing ourselves have a profound impact on our vitality and purpose. Terence Lewis, with his thoughtful reflection, offers us an important truth: "Food does not rank high on my list. I eat to live, and I'm very particular about my diet. It's strictly low fat diet for me." In these words, he speaks not of indulgence but of discipline—a choice to live with intention and purpose, where food is not the object of desire but a tool for sustaining the body. This is a lesson from the ancients, who understood that true strength and well-being come not from indulgence in the pleasures of the table, but from the ability to choose wisely, with care and discernment.

The great Greeks of antiquity, in their pursuit of wisdom and virtue, recognized that the body is not an object for excess, but a sacred vessel that must be tended to with thoughtfulness. Socrates, one of the most revered philosophers in history, taught that the pursuit of true happiness and health could only be achieved through self-discipline and moderation. To Socrates, what we consumed was not merely to satisfy our desires but to fuel the soul's journey. Terence Lewis’s reflection echoes this ancient truth: the purpose of food is not indulgence, but sustenance—nourishing the body in a way that aligns with the greater purpose of living a virtuous, meaningful life.

Consider the example of Pythagoras, the ancient philosopher and mathematician, whose teachings extended beyond the realms of numbers and geometry to the dietary habits of his followers. Pythagoras believed that to achieve balance and clarity, one must nourish the body with simple, wholesome food that promotes both health and spiritual growth. His diet was focused on purity, and he advocated for a diet rich in vegetables and low in fats and animal products. In this, Pythagoras embodied the ancient wisdom that the way we nourish our bodies impacts not only our physical strength but our mental and spiritual clarity. Lewis’s commitment to a low-fat diet is a modern echo of this ancient practice: food as a means to sustain and elevate, rather than to distract or indulge.

The great Romans, too, understood the connection between diet and strength. Cicero, the philosopher, often spoke of the need for balance in all things, and this included diet. To the Romans, the body was a temple that required careful stewardship, and indulgence was to be avoided in favor of maintaining clarity and virtue. Cicero believed that the pursuit of health was inextricably linked to the discipline of the body. Much like Lewis, who is "very particular" about his diet, the Romans were careful in their food choices, recognizing that what nourished the body should also nurture the mind and spirit. Lewis echoes this understanding: food is not for pleasure alone but for purpose and sustainability.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great, a man whose strength and vitality were not just products of his military might, but of his disciplined approach to life, including his diet. Alexander was a leader who understood that the path to greatness lay in maintaining both physical strength and mental clarity. While he was known for his immense conquests, he was also mindful of his body’s needs, understanding that health was essential to his leadership. His approach was not one of indulgence but of discipline—choosing foods that would fuel his body for the long journey of battle, not distract from his mission. Lewis's commitment to a low-fat diet mirrors this approach: food is not an object of pleasure but a source of energy and focus, enabling one to fulfill their life's purpose.

The Buddhist teachings on mindful eating also offer a powerful reflection on Lewis's words. The Buddha taught that true health is not found in indulgence or asceticism but in the middle way, where one approaches food with awareness and moderation. In the Buddhist tradition, the act of eating is seen as a moment of mindfulness—a way to nourish the body and the spirit without falling into the traps of overindulgence or denial. Lewis’s choice to be "very particular" about his diet, focusing on what nourishes his body without excess, mirrors this Buddhist approach: mindful eating as a means to sustain not just the body, but also the mind and soul.

Thus, we come to understand that Terence Lewis's approach to food and diet is not merely a personal choice but a reflection of a timeless truth: health is rooted in discipline, balance, and moderation. Just as the ancients—from Socrates to Cicero, from Pythagoras to the Buddha—understood that the key to vitality is not indulgence but moderation, so too must we approach our relationship with food. By choosing what nourishes us, by being mindful of our diet, we can cultivate strength, clarity, and a life of purpose.

The lesson here is clear: diet is not simply about indulgence or restriction, but about mindful choices that serve our greater purpose. Like Lewis, we must be particular about what we consume, recognizing that food is a tool to fuel our bodies, not a distraction or indulgence. Let us embrace the ancient wisdom of moderation, nourishing our bodies with what strengthens, sustains, and elevates us. Through this discipline, we honor not only our physical strength but our mental and spiritual well-being, and walk the path toward a life of balance, clarity, and fulfillment.