Blue Zones Middle Way

I Used To Think Being A Yogi Meant Giving Everything Up...

As I deepened my spiritual practice and began searching for a more meaningful life, I started peeling away layers of comfort. I traveled to sacred places. I said goodbye to alcohol, coffee, gluten, and sugar. I swapped pasta for zucchini noodles and walked past my culture’s rich food traditions with a mix of discipline and pride.  For a while, the path felt “right.”

Somewhere between restriction and obsession, between overexercising and
undernourishing, I started to lose the joy. And isn’t that what we’re seeking?
A joyful, meaningful life?

As I moved through these extremes, trying on different versions of health, purity, and performance, I began to recognize a familiar pattern. It's natural, even necessary, to swing wide when we’re doing deep internal work, and I realized I was being too hard on myself.

Eventually, we bump against something softer, something truer: our own middle way. That idea of the middle way, so central to Buddhist philosophy, has guided me back to something more balanced. In fact, one of my favorite authors, Dan Millman, writes about swinging the pendulum far in the opposite  direction so it finally lands in the center again. The center offers something both sustainable and deeply personal.

These days, I feel it more than ever, especially this spring when I traveled through Italy, reconnecting with my roots. I spent time in Sicily, and the city of Palermo stirred my soul in a way I didn’t expect. It’s gritty and full of life and culture, the dialect echoing the one my parents speak. The open-air markets, the smells; both amazing and, if I’m honest, sometimes wretched. The city is loud, raw, even offensive at times, and I loved it. It was real. Alive. And in that beautiful chaos, I felt a deep connection. Something in me believes I have ancestral roots there too.  It just felt too much like home for me to deny.

My family is originally from Puglia. My father was a fisherman, out on the Adriatic Sea by the time he was just eight years old. He started fishing when his school had closed during World War II to become a military base. He fished until he immigrated to Canada at 19 and lived a strong, humble life until the age of 89. He didn’t talk about wellness, but he lived it in movement, in simplicity, in purpose. Whole Foods, hard work, naps, and he looooved to show me his step
count at the end of his day. He consistently averaged above 10,000 even in his late eighties.

That’s what I see now in the lifestyle my grandmother modeled as well. She lived to be over 100. A centenarian. Without any fitness apps, infrared saunas, or 5 a.m. HIIT classes. What she had was simplicity, connection, and movement weaved into her day, and food that was whole, homemade, and shared. She drank coffee every morning, made pasta from scratch, always served with vegetables and legumes, and occasionally enjoyed a glass of wine.
She also prayed! A lot!! Many times when I visited, she sat doing her rosary when she was done with socializing.

It turns out that those same choices that were so natural to my upbringing and culture are core ingredients in the lifestyle profiles of the longest-living humans on Earth. The Blue Zones: Sardinia, Ikaria, Okinawa, Nicoya, and Loma Linda. Each region holds a different culture, but common threads run through: strong social ties, plant-forward meals (that include carbs!), moderate natural movement, purpose, rest, and joy. None of these communities are following a keto diet, chugging protein shakes, or training for a marathon. And that’s not a dig at anyone who does.

Some people find meaning in the challenge. But centenarians aren’t running races. They’re walking steep hills, tending to their gardens, kneading dough, and getting down on the floor to play with their great-grandkids. Their movement is gentle, woven into daily life. Much like yoga. Not the kind that always makes it to Instagram, but the kind that sustains us for the long haul. It’s taken me years to land here. And I’m still learning.

These days, I drink my morning espresso without guilt. I make pasta and remember my grandmother’s and mother's hands in the dough. I move, I stretch, I rest. But let me be clear, I love a sweaty yoga class. I enjoy strength training. I live for a good hike in the mountains or a long walk through a new city. I still push myself, but I’m no longer extreme about it. I choose what feels strong and sustainable, not what punishes or controls.

That shift has been supported by what I’ve learned about the science of longevity. The people who live the longest, those in the Blue Zones, aren’t running marathons in their 70s. They move consistently, naturally, and with joy. Their activity isn’t performance-based. It’s life-based. That’s the energy I try to carry into my practice now.

I also want to make this distinction: when I went gluten-free, it wasn’t just a trend, it was necessary. Something in the wheat in North America, maybe how it's processed, grown, or preserved, doesn’t sit well with me. I learned through travel that European wheat, especially in the form of bread and pasta, doesn’t hurt my stomach. So now, I stick with imported flour when I bake or indulge. 

I’m also mostly plant-based; not because I think everyone needs to be, but because it feels right for my body, and because I care about limiting harm to animals. I do eat some meat, but I try to source it consciously, choosing quality over quantity and always with gratitude.

I don't chase perfection anymore. I don’t believe wellness is a one-size-fits-all formula. I believe in finding what’s authentic for YOU. Because the recipe for a long and meaningful life isn’t just about health in the body. It’s also about joy, connection, and pleasure.

The bikini body lifestyle doesn’t guarantee longevity. Neither does the party-all-night one. But a life that honors both body and soul, in ways that feel sustainable and satisfying; that just might!

So here I am, embracing imperfection, softness, and pasta. I may not look like I did in my most “disciplined” years, but I feel whole. And if I’m lucky, that might land me in the centenarian club.

For now, I’ll channel the words of Sophia Loren: “Everything you see here, I owe to pasta.” 

If you are interested in the Blue Zones, making homemade pasta, and longevity,
please join us for our 2-day local retreat on June 28 and 29th in Richmond, Illinois.

You can find more info on our retreat page at www.theyogaeffect.com