The whole idea of juicing is good if you are trying to diet and

"The whole idea of juicing is good if you are trying to diet and use it in limited basis. I use juice drinks only once a week. I use emulsified drinks because in emulsification you are keeping everything. You are keeping the pulp, you are keeping the skin with all of the phytonutrients." – Montel Williams

In these words, Montel Williams speaks as one who has tasted both excess and balance, as one who has walked through the temple of health and learned the cost of ignorance. His teaching is not merely about juicing or diet, but about wholeness—the sacred art of keeping what nature has already perfected. He reminds us that in our haste for purity, we often cast away the very essence that gives life its strength. In emulsification, he sees a metaphor for living: to keep what is whole, to discard nothing of worth, to live in harmony with the fullness of creation.

The ancients understood this truth. They did not strip away the bark from the healing tree, nor remove the rind from the fruit before offering it to the gods. The healers of old—the priests of Egypt, the scholars of Greece, the herbalists of China—believed that life was unity, that every part of nature contained purpose. To take the fruit and remove its skin was to offend the divine symmetry of creation. Montel’s words revive this ancient reverence. When he says he uses emulsified drinks, keeping the pulp and skin, he is in truth saying: keep the essence of life intact, for the divine resides in wholeness.

In the age of abundance, where we extract and refine until nothing living remains, his words strike like a quiet bell of reason. Juicing, though good in moderation, can become a form of forgetting. For in seeking the sweetness, we abandon the fiber; in seeking the clear, we cast away the deep. This mirrors how mankind often lives—desiring comfort without discipline, pleasure without patience, reward without work. But Williams counsels restraint: “Use it in limited basis.” This is the wisdom of balance—the same truth spoken by the Buddha under the Bodhi tree, by the Stoics in the marble halls of Rome—that moderation is the key to freedom.

There is a story told of Hippocrates, father of medicine, who once observed a young disciple discard the husk of a grain, keeping only the white center. The master frowned and said, “You have taken the body and thrown away the soul.” For Hippocrates knew that healing did not dwell in isolation, but in wholeness—in the harmony of all parts working together. So too does Montel Williams speak from this ancient lineage of understanding: to keep everything—the pulp, the skin, the phytonutrients—is to honor the unity that nature designed for our nourishment and vitality.

His words are also a call to mindfulness. For he speaks not as one preaching denial, but as one who has learned that the body is a sacred steward of the spirit. He drinks his juices once a week, not because he rejects them, but because he honors them. He allows time and rhythm to govern his health, as the moon governs the tides. In this he teaches us that wellness is not a frenzy of effort, but a rhythm of wisdom—an awareness of when to take, and when to refrain.

To live by his counsel is to see nourishment as a sacred act. When you eat, eat with awareness. When you drink, drink with reverence. Do not separate what the earth has joined together. The skin of the fruit, the pulp, the color, the taste—these are not mere details, but the language of life itself. To consume them whole is to participate in the fullness of nature’s design. To throw them away is to reject her teaching.

The lesson, then, is this: Seek wholeness, not fragments. In your food, in your habits, in your thoughts—embrace what is complete. Let your health be guided not by fleeting trends but by ancient balance. Choose nourishment that sustains, not emptiness that deceives. And above all, remember that moderation is the rhythm of longevity. As Montel Williams teaches, keep everything—not only in your cup, but in your life: the lessons, the struggles, the sweetness, and the fiber of experience itself.

Thus, let these words be passed down: the wise do not seek to purify life by removing its roughness—they embrace it all, for within the pulp and skin of existence lies the true nourishment of the soul.