I prefer to drink my salad to get veggies and other nutrients

In the gentle yet resolute words of Beth Behrs, there shines a wisdom that is both practical and profound: “I prefer to drink my salad to get veggies and other nutrients throughout the day, so smoothies are a staple of my day-to-day diet. They taste delicious even when they are packed with spinach, kale, and healthy superfoods.” To the unseeing ear, these words may sound as mere advice on nourishment — but to the thoughtful soul, they reveal a deeper truth: that the way we feed the body is a reflection of how we tend the spirit. For to choose the wholesome over the hollow, to make health both a habit and a joy, is to walk the timeless path of balance — the golden road the ancients revered as the foundation of all virtue.

To drink one’s salad, as Beth poetically says, is not only an act of convenience but of creativity — an embrace of nourishment without complaint, of health without sacrifice. In her blending of greens and fruits, there is symbolism: that life itself is a blending of many elements — bitter and sweet, labor and rest, earth and sun. Just as a smoothie takes what the soil gives and transforms it into delight, so too can we take what life offers — its struggles, its burdens, its rawness — and, through wisdom, blend it into something good, something sustaining. This is no small thing. It is the art of transformation, the secret the wise have always known: that beauty and strength arise not from rejecting the bitter, but from harmonizing it with what is sweet.

In ancient times, the healers of Greece — the followers of Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine — taught that “food is thy medicine and medicine thy food.” They believed that health was not merely the absence of sickness but the presence of harmony between the elements — the earth, the air, the fire, and the water within us. To consume the greens of the earth was to partake of life’s purest energy, to unite oneself with nature’s rhythm. Beth Behrs, in her own modern way, echoes this eternal truth. Her smoothies are not indulgence, but discipline made delightful — a ritual that feeds both body and mind.

Consider, too, the story of the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, who in all his wisdom and power chose simplicity as the measure of virtue. Though surrounded by feasts and luxury, he ate humbly, understanding that the body must serve the spirit, not the other way around. In his writings, he reminded himself, “The best revenge is not to be like your enemy; the best food is not to be ruled by your appetite.” What Beth Behrs practices through her daily ritual of nutritious smoothies is this same philosophy — the mastery of self through mindful choice. For what one consumes, one becomes. If we fill ourselves with the empty, our spirits too grow empty; but if we fill ourselves with what is living, pure, and balanced, we are strengthened not only in body but in will.

Her delight in these superfoods, even when they are bitter — spinach, kale, and the rest — teaches yet another sacred truth: that what benefits us most is not always what pleases us first. The ancients knew this well. The warrior who trains in discomfort grows strong; the scholar who wrestles with difficult words grows wise; and the body that learns to love its greens learns to thrive. So too in life, we must learn to savor what is good, even when it is not easy. The taste of virtue, like that of kale, may be sharp at first, but it nourishes the soul long after sweetness fades.

Beth’s words, though spoken in the age of abundance, are a reminder against indulgence without intention. She shows that joy and health need not be opposites, that discipline can taste sweet if practiced with gratitude. To make nutrition a part of one’s lifestyle — not as a burden, but as a celebration of life — is to return to the natural rhythm the ancients called the logos, the harmony of being. When we choose what sustains us, we affirm our belonging to the great order of life — to the sun that grows the plants, to the earth that feeds them, and to the breath that sustains us in turn.

So, let this be the teaching: nourish yourself wisely, and make the act of nourishment a form of joy. Let your food not merely fill your stomach, but lift your spirit. Blend what is bitter with what is bright, both in your cup and in your life. For health is not in denying yourself, but in honoring yourself — in feeding the body that carries your dreams and the mind that lights your way.

And when you, like Beth Behrs, find delight in the simple green gifts of the earth, you will have discovered a timeless secret: that wellness is not a chore, but an act of love. Drink your salad, yes — but more than that, drink deeply of life’s goodness. For the one who learns to take what is wholesome and make it joyful has found not just the recipe for health, but the recipe for peace.