I love pizza, but it doesn’t love me. At least I didn’t think it does.
About sixteen years ago, I went to a weekend workshop that began Friday evening and ran through Sunday. At the kickoff, the facilitators said not to bring lunch the next day, they would feed us.
As lunchtime approached on Saturday, I saw several rows of extra-large pizza boxes lined up by the entrance.
My first thought?
“Oh no.”
I scanned for salad containers stacked nearby. Nothing. Just pizza.
Like most people I know, I love pizza. But pizza didn’t love me back. It used to bring on sinus congestion, a foggy head, and scattered focus. Delicious yes, but not friendly.
The facilitators gave us a lunch assignment:
Before each bite, name a Spiritual Hunger. Then do something to meet it.
These are the hungers beneath all hungers. The longing to be seen, held, heard. To feel safe. To matter. To belong.
Imagine that. A whole hour of eating, and every bite had to come with a met hunger.
So I got creative. I asked for hugs. Kissed my own hand. Asked someone what they appreciated about me. Gave someone else what they asked for. Listened. Allowed myself to be listened to.
In that hour, I ate only two slices of pizza.
But I didn’t feel heavy. Or foggy. Or stuffed with regret.
I felt clear. Grounded. Satisfied.
That day I learned two things:
Two slices were enough.
And the pizza didn’t make me feel bad at all.
Each time I took a bite, I paused and asked myself:
What am I really hungry for?
Sometimes the answer was:
I want to be heard.
So, before the next bite, I’d lean into that. Maybe by sharing something tender. Not dramatic, not heavy – after all, we were lunching – but a little more open than usual.
A little more presence made all the difference.
I’ve never forgotten what I learned that weekend:
Meeting my spiritual hungers softened the impact of any food.
Did that mean I started eating pizza all the time?
Heck no.
Food still matters. It’s information. It speaks to the intelligence in your body. And over time, it teaches.
I still choose clean fuel. I still eat for digestion and clarity.
But when I catch myself craving something random, like a snack, a treat, a scroll, I pause and ask: What am I truly hungry for?
They say to drink water first. Hydration helps for sure. But I say: Ask yourself that question too.
What’s the hunger behind the craving?
Because we eat when we’re bored. Or to dull pain. Or to soften the edges of emotion. Sometimes, we’re not even upset. We’re just beginning to feel again. And that can be uncomfortable.
It can feel like power returning. And power, when we’re not used to it, can be scary.
So we eat to mute it.
That’s when I say:
Don’t go to the fridge.
Sit down.
Close your eyes.
Hold the power instead.
Hold it like the sacred thing it is.
You are not your cravings. You are not your habits. They are just patterns, rehearsed again and again.
It’s going to feel hard at first. But with each aligned choice, you feed strength.
And each time you mute it, you feed the unconscious.
So choose you.
I’ve created a Spiritual Hungers Reflection Sheet to support this practice. You’ll find it below.