不吃，身體並不會覺得委屈，真正感到委屈的，是大腦戴上的那張面具。

我花了好些年，體會大腦如何對「台階」產生幻想，那種預設立場，其實從頭到尾都只是想像，而且想得往往與實際發生的大相逕庭。

我常對學員說：「你所擔心、害怕的情況，幾乎都不會發生。」但弔詭的是，多數人還是堅持要擔心、要害怕。

實際經驗顯示：即使只吃了一點東西，身體已明確不再感到飢餓，但人們仍會認為應該再補充點什麼。表面看起來是體貼身體，實則是嫁禍給身體。

身體早已發出「不餓」的訊號，只是我們常主觀誤解為「還需要吃些什麼」。這種誤解，是主動且刻意的。被文明飲食俘擄的人，大多都有這樣的習性。

其實，我們該思考的從來不是「吃進了什麼」，而是「身體怎麼處理這些食物」。就好比你交辦部屬一項繁重的任務，交代是一回事，實際執行又是另一回事，輕重有別。

 

若從理財的觀點來看身體需求，身體真正需要儲存的，是生命力，不是食物。真相是：當食物進入身體的末端，它早已不是養分，而是廢物。

從「進」與「出」的平衡來看進食與排泄，我們的大腦對「進」的關注遠大於對「出」的關注；在日常生活中，我們重視「吃」的程度也遠高於「排」。

說得直接些：我們在乎享受，遠甚於承擔。而吃進去的後果，並不只是身體承擔，更是身心靈一起承受、一同負責。

這正是當代環境的真實：大多數人對「身體處理食物就不處理廢物」這件事毫無感知。較為精確的說法是：「身體為了處理食物耗盡能量，被迫將廢物暫存體內。」這種現象，一般人毫無警覺。

當身體忙於處理進食，時間就被切割，生理節奏被打亂。我們不清楚身體真正的需求，因為大多來自營養學與科學的說法，並非來自身體的聲音。

科學的立場，從來不是身體的立場，人類之所以失去健康，是因為缺乏以身體為出發點的思維。

我們不會把自家垃圾丟進鄰居的院子，然而在人際互動中，我們卻常只顧自身立場，不顧對方觀點，衝突與爭執也因此而生。

 

吃，是營養素的來源，卻同時是生命力的消耗。這意味著，補充營養與減少損耗之間必須取得平衡。

人類對此來回驗證已久，而「限時飲食」是目前唯一經證實可行的方案。

為何限時飲食能獲得廣泛肯定？因為它對準了問題的本質。本質，是指身體的原始設定，以身體的時間軸為依歸，將每日的時間歸還給身體，是我們最該實踐的事。

我自己也做了長期的實驗與轉變：從早年的三餐制，到二十年前開始的一日兩餐，直至近十年落實每日一餐。

這裡說的「餐」，指的是熟食，也就是食物已失去其原始生命力的型態。這一餐進入身體後，必然會剝奪身體的部分生命力。

除了我自己，我也訪談了許多人的實踐經驗，得出一個明確的結論：無論年齡與性別，只要是成年人，一日一餐是最理想的飲食頻率。

對於仍堅持每日兩餐的人來說，對身體時間軸的理解，仍有進一步提升的空間。我常鼓勵中年以上、珍惜健康的人，不只實踐每日一餐，更要展現讓身體「週休二日」的誠意。

 

當我對每日一餐已有豐富心得後，也經常在課堂中分享這段過程。特別是長期適應白天空腹的節奏，我把所有的期待與珍惜都集中在晚餐的那一刻。

無論是準備食物的人，或享用食物的人，我們都曾為那一餐處心積慮、全心投入。無論是為招待親友，還是犒賞自己，那份心情都值得珍惜。

我至今難忘五年前，在家為新書發表舉辦的慶功宴，由妻子一人掌廚，十餘位摯友在家中共度美好夜晚，那是難以取代的記憶。

七年前，我為妻子舉辦生日派對，邀請了六十多位親友，事前全程保密，只因為我打從心底感激她一路的辛勞與付出。

而當我們聚集一群志同道合的養生同伴，即便大家都熟稔「不吃」的好處，我們仍樂於不定期聚餐，尤其在每年長斷食結束之後，對那「一餐」的期待，往往顯得格外深刻而美好。

 

緊抓住用餐的喜悅，切記知足，一日一餐是我們和自己身體之間最巧妙的平衡。

這是身體的立場和食物的本質之間的默契，因為我們透過烹煮剝奪了食物的生命，每日的用餐次數因此必須講究。

可是，為了準備那一餐的忙碌或是邀約，竟然如此美好，就保留那種豐盛的記憶。

 

（一日一餐對獅子來說已足夠，對人也必然如此。）

 

Meticulous Planning—All for That One Meal

Not eating doesn’t make the body feel wronged; what truly feels wronged is the mask worn by the mind.

It took me years to realize how the mind constructs illusions about needing an “exit ramp”—those preset assumptions are nothing but imagination, and that imagination is often far from what actually unfolds.

I often tell my students, “What you worry and fear about almost never happens.” Yet ironically, most people still cling to their worries and fears.

Experience shows: even after eating just a little, the body no longer feels hungry, yet people still believe they need to replenish something more. On the surface, it looks like they’re being kind to their body, but in truth, they’re shifting blame onto it.

The body has already signaled “not hungry,” but we often misinterpret this as “still need to eat something.” This misunderstanding is intentional and active. Most people who are held captive by the norms of modern eating share this same habit.

In reality, what we should be thinking about isn’t what we eat, but how the body processes it. It’s like assigning a heavy task to an employee—giving the instruction is one thing, executing it is another. The weight is not the same.

From a financial metaphor: what the body truly needs to store is vitality, not food. The truth is, by the time food reaches the end of the digestive tract, it is no longer nutrition—it is waste.

From the perspective of balance between “in” and “out,” we place far more mental focus on food intake than we do on elimination. In everyday life, we obsess over eating, yet give little thought to what leaves the body.

To put it plainly: we care more about enjoyment than responsibility. And the consequence of eating is not just borne by the body—it is shared by the body, mind, and spirit.

This is the reality of modern life: most people have no awareness that “when the body is busy processing food, it stops processing waste.” More accurately, it’s this: “the body, forced to prioritize food digestion, is left with no choice but to store waste temporarily.” Most people remain completely unaware of this.

When the body is occupied with food processing, time is fragmented, and the biological rhythm is disrupted. We no longer know what the body truly needs, because most of what we’ve learned comes from nutrition science, not from the voice of the body itself.

Science speaks from its own standpoint—not from the standpoint of the body. The reason we lose our health is because we lack a mindset that begins with the body.

We wouldn’t throw our household garbage into a neighbor’s yard. Yet in human relationships, we often insist on our own standpoint, ignoring others’, and that’s how conflict arises.

Eating is a source of nutrients, yes—but also a drain on vitality. Which means we must find a balance between nutrient intake and vitality loss.

Humanity has tested this truth repeatedly, and “time-restricted eating” is the only currently validated method that works.

Why has time-restricted eating gained such wide acceptance? Because it targets the root of the issue. The essence lies in the body’s original design—aligning with the body’s timeline and returning each day’s time to the body. That’s the most worthwhile thing we can do.

I’ve conducted long-term personal experiments and undergone several transitions: from three meals a day in my early years, to two meals a day starting twenty years ago, and for nearly a decade now, one meal per day.

By “meal,” I mean a cooked meal—food that has lost its original life force. Once it enters the body, it inevitably robs some of the body’s vitality.

Beyond my own experience, I’ve interviewed many others and drawn a clear conclusion: regardless of age or gender, for any adult, one meal a day is the most ideal eating frequency.

For those who still insist on two meals a day, their understanding of the body’s timeline still has room to grow. I often encourage people in middle age or those who cherish their health—not only to adopt one meal a day, but to offer their body the sincerity of a “weekend break” as well.

Having gained much insight into the one-meal-a-day lifestyle, I often share this journey in class—especially how I’ve adapted to fasting during the day, pouring all my anticipation and appreciation into that one evening meal.

Whether you’re preparing the food or enjoying it, we’ve all at some point devoted heart and soul to a single meal. Whether it’s hosting friends or rewarding ourselves, that sentiment is worth cherishing.

I still remember vividly the celebration dinner held at home five years ago for my new book launch. My wife cooked every dish, and a dozen dear friends gathered that evening—it remains an irreplaceable memory.

Seven years ago, I threw my wife a surprise birthday party, inviting over sixty friends and family. It was a secret until the very end, simply because I was deeply grateful for all her effort and devotion over the years.

And even when we gather with like-minded health enthusiasts—despite knowing full well the benefits of “not eating”—we still enjoy occasional meals together. Especially after each year’s long fast, the anticipation of that one meal feels particularly profound and beautiful.

Hold tightly to the joy of eating, and always remember to be content. One meal a day is the most delicate balance we can strike with our own body.

It’s a silent agreement between the body’s perspective and the nature of food. Because we strip away food’s vitality through cooking, we must be mindful of the number of meals we consume daily.

And yet, if the effort to prepare or gather for that one meal becomes something truly wonderful—then let’s preserve that richness as a treasured memory.