I'm gluten-free, dairy-free, and I try to keep a low-sugar diet

In the words of Gabrielle Bernstein, “I’m gluten-free, dairy-free, and I try to keep a low-sugar diet, although from time to time, I’ll have a bite of cake — you know, I’m human.” These words, gentle and unassuming, carry a depth of wisdom beyond the simplicity of diet. They speak not merely of food, but of discipline, self-awareness, and above all, compassion for one’s own humanity. In this single sentence lies the eternal balance between purity and imperfection, between striving for the ideal and embracing the real.

To be gluten-free, dairy-free, and to live with restraint is, in truth, an act of the spirit. It is the pursuit of clarity — to free the body from what burdens it, and thus allow the mind to shine more brightly. Such choices demand awareness and care, the quiet courage to live differently in a world that tempts with indulgence. Yet, when Gabrielle confesses that she sometimes takes “a bite of cake,” she reminds us that even the most disciplined souls must bow to the tender truth of being human. The path of virtue, she teaches, is not paved with rigidity, but with balance.

In ancient times, the Stoic philosopher Epictetus taught his students that moderation is the mark of wisdom. He warned that those who strive to be perfect often fall into pride, while those who forgive themselves learn endurance. He told the tale of a young ascetic who refused all pleasures, even to the point of illness. When the youth’s teacher saw his suffering, he said, “You have chained yourself with virtue instead of freeing yourself with it.” And so it is with all discipline — when it becomes a prison, it ceases to serve the soul. Gabrielle’s “bite of cake” is a symbol of liberation, a reminder that the sacred and the simple must walk hand in hand.

In her words, we see the truth of self-compassion — a virtue as ancient as it is rare. Many seek perfection, not for holiness, but out of fear of failing. Yet perfection is not the divine path; wholeness is. To forgive oneself for small indulgences is not weakness but wisdom, for it honors the rhythm of life — the waxing and waning, the feast and the fast, the discipline and the delight. Just as the moon does not shine at all times, so too must the spirit rest between its efforts. The one who allows themselves grace grows stronger than the one who lives in endless self-denial.

There is a lesson here not only for the body but for the heart. In all our striving — whether for purity, knowledge, or peace — we must remember that we are human. To stumble is not to fail, and to yield for a moment does not undo a lifetime of purpose. Indeed, those who allow themselves small joys often walk longer and with lighter hearts. Think of the artist who pauses to listen to laughter after a day of toil, or the monk who smiles as he tastes the sweetness of fruit after months of fasting. Such moments do not corrupt the spirit; they renew it.

The strength of Gabrielle’s wisdom lies in her humility. Her words are a quiet reminder that true health is not only of the body but of the mind and soul. The one who eats purely but judges themselves harshly is not well. The one who lives gently — allowing space for imperfection — tastes a deeper nourishment. It is not the cake that harms us, but the guilt we attach to it. In choosing balance, she teaches us to honor both discipline and forgiveness — the twin guardians of a peaceful life.

Therefore, let this teaching be passed on: strive for balance, not perfection. Care for your body, for it is the vessel of your spirit. Feed it wisely, restrain it when needed — but when joy calls softly, answer it without shame. Allow yourself to be whole, not flawless. A single bite taken in peace is worth more than a lifetime of denial filled with pride.

And so, beloved seeker, remember this: live with awareness, eat with gratitude, and forgive yourself with love. The divine does not demand your perfection — only your sincerity. You are human — and that is sacred enough.