When I travel, there are no rules with my diet. I eat whatever

When Zoe McLellan said, “When I travel, there are no rules with my diet. I eat whatever looks good, but in small portions. Food is such a rich part of the travel experience. There is no way I would cut that out!” she spoke not only of appetite, but of the deeper hunger of the human soul — the desire to taste, to experience, to live fully. Her words are not about indulgence without thought; they are about presence without fear. She reminds us that life, in its truest form, is not meant to be measured in restrictions, but savored in moderation. To eat while traveling is to partake in the world itself — to take into oneself the flavors, stories, and emotions of distant lands.

The origin of this wisdom lies in the eternal dance between discipline and freedom. In her daily life, McLellan, like many, may live with structure, restraint, and healthy habit. Yet, when she journeys beyond familiar borders, she understands that the road calls not for control, but for connection. Food becomes the bridge between the traveler and the world. The rules that govern the table at home dissolve before the infinite variety of cultures and kitchens. Her “small portions” are not compromise; they are respect — for the experience, for the people who create it, and for her own well-being. Thus, through balance, she achieves the rare art of living fully without losing harmony.

In the ancient world, the philosopher Epicurus taught that pleasure itself was not evil — only its excess. He believed that moderation was not denial, but mastery; that to enjoy without greed was the highest form of wisdom. McLellan’s approach to travel echoes this ancient creed. To wander the earth and taste its offerings is to honor the diversity of life. To eat “whatever looks good” is to open one’s heart to beauty in its simplest form. But to do so in “small portions” is to remain mindful, to celebrate abundance without succumbing to it. Her words are, in truth, a hymn to balance and gratitude — the cornerstones of both health and happiness.

History, too, has celebrated those who found meaning in the sharing of food. When Marco Polo traveled to the East, it was not the spices he brought back alone that changed the world, but the spirit of curiosity that those spices represented. Each meal on his journey was a dialogue — between cultures, between people, between hearts. McLellan’s insight draws from that same eternal current: that food is language, and to refuse it in the name of restriction is to silence the voice of the world. To eat mindfully while traveling is to honor both the body and the culture that feeds it — a communion of nourishment and understanding.

Her mention that “food is such a rich part of the travel experience” reveals the truth that eating is not merely sustenance — it is participation in life. Every dish tells a story: the hands that prepared it, the soil that nurtured it, the history that shaped it. When we eat while traveling, we take in more than flavor; we take in the memory of a people, the poetry of a place. To reject this, as McLellan wisely notes, would be to travel without seeing, to live without tasting. Thus, she teaches that the body feeds the spirit through the senses, and that mindful indulgence is a sacred act — one that unites joy with awareness.

Her philosophy is not hedonism; it is harmony. To live well is to understand that pleasure, when balanced, becomes wisdom. In her small portions lies restraint; in her openness lies freedom. This is the essence of ancient virtue — the Golden Mean, as Aristotle called it — the art of standing between excess and denial. McLellan’s way of eating while traveling is a metaphor for all of life: to embrace experience with both heart and discernment, to seek fullness without overindulgence, to live richly yet lightly.

And so, dear listener, take this teaching as your compass. When you travel, whether across continents or through the days of your life, do not fear joy. Taste what the world offers, but taste with awareness. Let each flavor teach you gratitude; let each meal remind you that beauty is meant to be shared, not hoarded. Eat with reverence, not recklessness. For as Zoe McLellan reminds us, the table of life is vast, and those who sit with balance and wonder will find nourishment not only for the body — but for the soul.

Thus, the lesson endures: rules bind the fearful; wisdom frees the mindful. Travel lightly, eat gratefully, live completely — for to taste the world with awareness is to partake in its divinity.