It started with a bite.

Crispy, salty, tangy—the flavors hit my tongue, and suddenly, I wasn’t just sitting there eating a Filet-O-Fish. I was somewhere else. Somewhere familiar.

I was back in my hometown, inside the Walmart where my mom used to take me as a kid. There was a McDonald’s inside, and because it was Lent, we got the Filet-O-Fish. It was a rare treat. As immigrants, we didn’t eat out often, not even at fast food places like McDonald’s. But on that day, we sat together, unwrapping the warm sandwich, dipping fries into ketchup, and sharing a simple meal.

And years later, a single bite transported me back.

It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was something deeper. A tether between past and present, a connection I could feel in my body.

Nowadays, I don’t eat fast food often, and I almost never order a Filet-O-Fish. In spiritual spaces, fast food is often dismissed as “low vibrational,” something to avoid. And I get it. I grew up picking corn and beans straight from the fields—I know the taste of real, fresh food, the kind that nourishes not just the body but the spirit. I also understand the concerns about processed foods, artificial ingredients, and the impact of what we consume. A Big Mac and an apple from a tree are not the same.

But what bothers me is the judgment.

There’s this idea that spirituality and fast food don’t mix, that eating “low-energy” food somehow makes a person less enlightened. But is that really true? Would people think differently of the Dalai Lama if he ate a Baconator once a week? What if he drank a bottle of wine every night? Would that change how they viewed his wisdom?

I have no idea what the Dalai Lama eats, but I’d bet he doesn’t frequent McDonald’s. Still, does that mean his spiritual depth depends on his diet?

This kind of thinking is a trap—a trap of ego, of judgment, of false superiority. Because the truth is, spirituality isn’t about what you eat. It’s about awareness, connection, and presence. And that’s exactly what I felt as I sat there eating that sandwich.

With every bite, I was reliving that moment with my mom. I could feel the warmth of that memory, as if I were there again, as if time had folded in on itself. A surge of energy shot through me, something so profound that I still feel chills writing about it.

Food is more than just nourishment. It’s a bridge.

If a simple sandwich could connect me to my past self, then food can connect us to our ancestors, too.

For me, eating pierogies brings me back to my grandmother. I can still see her in the kitchen, her hands moving quickly, shaping dough into small discs, filling them with potatoes and cheese. I remember the mountain of flour on the table, the rhythmic pressing of each pierogi shut. And when I eat them now, I feel her presence. I feel my ancestors, even the ones I never met.

Food carries memory. It carries energy. It carries love.

So maybe it’s not about whether food is “high vibration” or “low vibration.” Maybe the real question is: what does this food connect you to?