Not long ago, I found myself back in a familiar state: two weeks into a vegetarian routine, following what I knew was aligned with yogic wisdom. Clean eating. Sattvic. Light.
And yet—there was a subtle gnawing. Not of hunger, but of absence. A missing piece of grounding, of fullness, of primal nourishment. I wasn’t weak or unwell. I just didn’t feel whole.
This isn’t a confession. It’s a conversation—between the parts of me that thrive in stillness, and the parts that roar in wilderness. Between the ascetic and the hunter. And it led me back to a truth I’ve danced around for years:
Bioindividuality matters.
According to the Blood Type Diet, developed by Dr. Peter D’Adamo, those with the “hunter lineage” blood type are biologically primed for high-protein, meat-rich diets. Our systems are said to carry the digestive fire of our ancestors: stronger stomach acid, quicker metabolism, and a cellular memory of wild pursuit, not just plant foraging.
And there’s credible science behind this:
- Vitamin B12, heme iron, zinc, creatine, and omega-3s like DHA/EPA are simply more bioavailable in meat.
- Beyond the nutritional data, there’s a deeper layer—satiation isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. Energetic. Ancestral. When I eat meat consciously, I don’t just feel full—I feel returned to myself.
But here’s the yogic nuance: It’s not just what you eat. It’s how you eat it.
Ask yourself:
- Are you eating with gratitude, or with guilt?
- Are you choosing quality, or what’s convenient?
- Are you honouring the life given, or disconnecting from its story?
This is the Sigma code of nourishment. It doesn’t demand purity. It asks for presence. It invites you to meet your instincts without shame and your soul without compromise.
And here’s the broader truth: this applies not just to meat, but to the so-called “naughties” too—sugar, wine, indulgent foods. The occasional glass of red, the slice of cake, the Friday-night takeaway—they aren’t inherently wrong. What shifts everything is consciousness.
Are you drinking to escape, or to celebrate?
Are you reaching for sugar out of emptiness, or joy?
When you consume with awareness, even your indulgence becomes sacred.
It’s no longer about reward or punishment—it’s a moment of connection, presence, and pleasure. The chocolate you savour slowly, with joy, is a balm. The glass of wine you share with laughter and gratitude becomes a ritual of abundance.
But when you consume unconsciously, even your green juice can become a guilt-laced ritual.
Here’s what I mean:
If you’re drinking that spirulina smoothie not from love, but as penance for yesterday’s “bad” food…
If your salad feels like punishment, not pleasure…
If every bite you take comes with mental noise—”I shouldn’t,” “I’ve been so bad,” “I need to burn this off later”—
then the food is no longer nourishing.
It becomes an energetic poison.
Guilt is heavy. It lingers. And it teaches the body that eating is unsafe, undeserved, or dangerous. That kind of consumption creates stress, disrupts digestion, and most importantly—cuts off your connection to the inner guide that knows what true nourishment is.
This is the paradox:
You can eat the “cleanest” food with a dirty mindset.
You can eat something “dirty” with a clean, conscious spirit—and be energized.
So no, the issue isn’t meat. Or sugar. Or wine.
It’s unconsciousness.
It’s disconnection.
Maybe your path is not rigid vegetarianism.
Maybe it’s not full carnivory.
Maybe it’s conscious omnivory—where each meal is chosen, not defaulted.
The Buddha never forbade meat. He forbade unconscious consumption.
Early Buddhist texts reveal he allowed meat if it wasn’t killed specifically for the eater. It wasn’t the food—it was the awareness behind it that mattered most.
In The Life Mastery Book, I write about tuning into your true north, your personal clarity. Food is part of that compass. What fuels your stillness, your strength, your spirit?
So I’ll leave you with this:
If you let go of the shoulds… what does your body—your grounded, awakened self—say it truly needs today?
And can you meet that need with reverence?
