光是飢餓感，就讓多少人害怕到不敢踏進門。

這句話時常在我腦中盤旋。有時是驚嘆號式的感嘆，有時則是問號般的困惑。

飢餓，真的那麼可怕嗎？

或者，我也曾經被那份飢餓感牽引，想起那些早餐桌上總有吐司麵包的日子。

那樣的生活是怎麼來的，又是怎麼消失的？印象中，不過是一個念頭的轉變。

因為相信甲田光雄所提倡的「半日斷食」，我開始遠離豐盛的早餐。這個簡單的舉動，竟意外成為打開身體之道的入口。

 

幾乎每個人都有一段「吃麵包的人生」，吃麵包的人享受食物的滋養，卻不曾察覺，自己早已被麵包牽動了意念。

正如埋首工作的我們，也不太思考自己是否早已被工作綁架。當主控權不在自己手上，這個事實不但不重要，甚至從未被視為問題。

若要解釋「吃麵包」與「主控權」之間的關係，不妨回到我當年站上養生講座講台的時刻。

那時我服務的公司位於大安捷運站的共構大樓，我總是將車停在大安高工地下停車場，幾乎每天都會經過聖瑪莉麵包店。

我難以抗拒肉鬆麵包的誘惑，常常對學員分享自己喜歡的食物，聽眾的回應，不外乎「麵包不好」、「肉鬆不健康」。

但我所領悟的，並不在這些食物本身，而是在於：內分泌的細微變化，以及身體真實的感受。與其說是被麵包綁架，不如說，是被自己的慾望牽制。

 

問題不在於什麼能吃、什麼不能吃，而是：什麼才是有意義的存在？什麼又只是虛妄的執著？

我在教育孩子時早已發現，「你該做什麼／不該做什麼」的說法對他們已經毫無說服力。

這並不是單純的世代差異，而是在某個層面上，孩子的直覺比我們更貼近真理的顯現。

我又是如何領悟那些無能的教條？如何破解那些告訴我們「該吃什麼、不該吃什麼」的無聊言論？

一切都來自身體的告誡。即使最終的結論是放下對肉鬆麵包的執念，那也不代表麵包「不能吃」，而是我願意跳脫慾望所構築的惡性循環。

「不能吃」不該成為束縛，「不應吃」與「很想吃」也不該彼此對立，要打破這種無力感，只有一條路，就是勇敢面對那個入口。

 

那麼，到底是什麼樣的入口？

不斷有人為我示範「打開門的勇氣」，他們有一個共通點：願意面對自己。

面對自己的不足，或者自己的弱項，不足可以轉化為滿足，弱項也能蛻變為強項。

對我來說，斷食，就是那個關鍵的入口。承認也好，不承認也罷，真正的障礙，往往是記憶中的飢餓。

那記憶，其實就是「面對自己」的入口。

 

被飢餓駕馭的真相，是懦弱；被恐懼控制的真相，是貪婪。而只要你願意打開那扇門，便踏上削減懦弱與貪婪的道路。

 

身體之道，帶給我最重大的啟示是：只要專注於道路的指引，路程的長短與方向，最終都交由行者自己決定。

面對自己，不是任何他人能替代的行為。自己存在的意義、身體所扮演的角色，會在旅途中逐漸浮現。

沒有答案，是最好的答案；沒有方法，是最佳的方法。

一直等候答案，就永遠得不到答案；一直尋找方法，就永遠無法踏上正道。

你必須先開門，勇敢地、誠實的面對自己，然後一步步成為那個你真正想成為的人。

門外的人，有些執著於食物的選擇與營養的取捨，有些則執著於自己的不足與無能。前者被慾望所控，後者被他人所控。

 

人生所有的答案，都在你開門之後的看見。

真正的啟示，來自你自己。

斷食，不只是不吃的考題，而是走進生命正解的入口。

 

（幸福的大門不需要鑰匙，門永遠開著。）

 

The Gateway to Facing Oneself

The mere sensation of hunger is enough to keep many people from stepping through the door.
This sentence often lingers in my mind—sometimes as an exclamation of wonder, sometimes a question of confusion.
Is hunger really that terrifying?
Or perhaps I, too, was once led by that feeling of hunger—recalling the days when there was always toast on the breakfast table.
How did that life begin, and how did it end? As I remember, it came down to a simple shift in mindset.
After embracing Dr. Mitsuo Koda’s concept of “half-day fasting,” I began to distance myself from abundant breakfasts. That small act unexpectedly became the gateway to reconnecting with my body.

Almost everyone has lived a “bread-eating life.”
Those who eat bread enjoy the nourishment of food, yet they seldom realize how their thoughts have been steered by it.
Just like how we throw ourselves into work, rarely questioning whether we’ve been hijacked by it. When control no longer lies in our own hands, that fact not only seems unimportant—it is never even seen as a problem.

To explain the link between “eating bread” and “having control,” let me return to a moment in my past—standing on the stage of a wellness seminar.
Back then, I worked in a building connected to Daan MRT Station. I always parked in the underground lot of Daan Vocational High School, passing by the St. Mary’s Bakery almost every day.
I couldn’t resist the temptation of pork floss bread. I often shared my food preferences with my students, who typically responded, “Bread is bad,” or “Pork floss isn’t healthy.”
But what I came to understand had nothing to do with the food itself.
It was about the subtle hormonal shifts, and the body’s honest response.
Rather than being controlled by bread, it was my own desires that held me captive.

The issue isn’t what we can or can’t eat—it’s what has true meaning, and what is merely a hollow obsession.
When educating children, I long realized that telling them what they should or shouldn’t do no longer held any persuasive power.
This isn’t just a generational gap. On some level, their instincts are closer to the truth than ours.
So how did I come to see through these impotent doctrines?
How did I unravel the tired rules about what to eat and what to avoid?
It all came from the warnings of my own body.
Even if I ultimately let go of my fixation on pork floss bread, that doesn’t mean it’s “forbidden”—it simply means I was willing to step outside the vicious cycle built by desire.
“Cannot eat” should not be a chain.
“Shouldn’t eat” and “desperately want to eat” shouldn’t be opposites.
To break free from that sense of powerlessness, there’s only one path: bravely facing that gateway.

But what kind of gateway is it, exactly?
Again and again, people have shown me what it means to have the courage to open the door.
They all have one thing in common: the willingness to face themselves.
To face their own shortcomings or weaknesses—transforming lack into fulfillment, and weakness into strength.
For me, fasting was that pivotal gateway.
Whether we admit it or not, the true obstacle often lies in the memory of hunger.
That memory, in fact, is the very gateway to facing oneself.

The truth of being ruled by hunger is cowardice.
The truth of being controlled by fear is greed.
And the moment you open that door, you begin walking the path of shedding cowardice and greed.

The path of the body has offered me one profound insight:
As long as you stay aligned with the direction of the path, the length and course of the journey is yours to decide.
Facing oneself is an act no one else can do for you.
The meaning of your existence, the role of your body—these will gradually emerge on the road.
No answer is the best answer.
No method is the best method.
As long as you keep waiting for answers, you’ll never receive them.
As long as you keep searching for a method, you’ll never set foot on the right path.
You must first open the door—bravely, honestly face yourself—and then become, step by step, the person you truly want to be.

Those who remain outside the door may be fixated on nutritional choices and food restrictions, while others are obsessed with their own inadequacies and helplessness.
The former are controlled by desire; the latter, by others.

All the answers in life are found only after you’ve opened the door.
True revelation comes from within.
Fasting is not just a challenge of abstaining from food—it is the gateway to the true answers of life.