A Prayer for Nourishment: Honouring Hunger, Healing, and the Sacredness of Food
Hunger is universal, yet access to food is not. Around the world, we are witnessing how food is being weaponized, while many of us struggle to feel safe and connected in our relationship with nourishment. This prayer for nourishment is an invitation to honour hunger, remember that food is sacred, and reflect on how our healing is deeply tied to each other and the Earth.
It’s become harder to show up on this social media to speak about food.
As someone who works in the eating disorder recovery field, and as a white, privileged woman who once starved herself for years, day after day, denying nourishment, talking about food and sharing content about eating has become increasingly difficult.
I acknowledge that by not always speaking openly, I have, at times, contributed to the bypassing nature we so often see in the health and wellness industry. This industry continues to uphold a “perfect” image, often speaking to nervous system regulation, health, and well-being as if they exist solely at the individual level.
But as we bear witness to wars where food is weaponized — a method of control — our individualistic approach to achieving health and healing is no longer sustainable. The health and healing of our fellow human beings and of the Earth is interdependent on our individual well-being.
There was a time in my life when I chose not to eat, not because I didn’t have access to food, but because I felt unsafe, unworthy, and alone — at war with myself.
To even begin to fathom that there are millions of people for whom food is being weaponized, for whom access is out of reach, and for whom one of the main sources of life is used to kill — this puts my own access to food into perspective. Food can both nurture life and destroy it.
When food is intentionally used to dehumanize, to strip away the right to a dignified existence, we must remember that the memory of starvation becomes etched deeply into the body. That memory is carried forward as somatic inheritance from generation to generation, from body to body. Starvation is trauma.
Even though I’ve been in recovery for many years, if I don’t eat when I’m hungry, my body still goes into a panic. The fear of not getting food remains: a painful reminder of the harm I once caused my body, an innocent body that was only ever trying to protect me.
I share this not to compare my lived experience with the reality of those who are forcibly starved, nor to suggest I fully understand their suffering, but to share the complexity of how the body remembers. Hunger leaves a gaping hole.
My hope in sharing this is to spark reflection.
If you are struggling with an eating disorder in the midst of wars and genocides, please know: your story still deeply matters, your journey is equally important, and your healing is needed. The world needs you nourished, resourced, and whole — now more than ever — so that together, we can support one another and care for the Earth.
Your healing is my healing.
Our healing is collective healing.
May we always hear our hunger.
May we remember that having food to eat is a basic human right, not something to be earned. No one should ever be denied nourishment — no matter their story, their skin color, their beliefs, or their desires.
Your hunger matters. May we have the compassion to truly hear another’s hunger.
May we nourish ourselves, each other, and the Earth that sustains us in ways that are reciprocal, honouring, and kind.
May we offer gratitude for the clean water we drink, for the vibrant and diverse foods we are privileged to enjoy. May we offer gratitude to the animals, plants, gardeners, farmers, workers, drivers, and shopkeepers who help bring that food to our plates each day.
May we offer gratitude to the sun, the rains, the clouds, the winds, and the soils that grow what gives us life.
May we remember to give back to our Earth Mother, who feeds us each day without judgment or prejudice.
May we never forget the privilege of being able to choose to eat.
May our nourished bodies be strong enough to take action, to bear witness, and to care for others.
May we remember that food is sacred. That all life is sacred.
May we honour the cycles of life and death, remembering that we are forever interconnected.
May your plate become a place of peace.
This is a prayer for nourishment — for ourselves, for each other, and for the Earth.
May we listen to each other’s hunger with open hearts. May we respond to our own hunger and fill our own cups to adequately support those in need.
May we have the courage to grieve our own hungers that were never met or that we denied ourselves. May we have to courage to turn towards those who currently do not have a choice to eat.
These words are an attempt to digest what is going on in the world. Feeling the wounds of the world brings healing. I hope these words arrive gently.
I hope you find one glimmer in your day that lifts your spirit and reminds you are here, alive.