What I Keep, What I Leave Behind, What I Observe

Article

In LaBouffe, I talk about dietary supplements the way I talk about what I put in my bag before a train journey: I am not trying to plan for everything; above all, I am trying to stay clear-eyed. I am attached to a way of eating that preserves flavour, rhythm and a little flexibility, so I am wary of rhetoric that turns a capsule into a complete solution. For me, a supplement only makes sense if it supports a very concrete reality: a season that is too dark, fatigue that is building up, a somewhat unbalanced diet over several weeks, or that moment when I feel my body asking for something other than just one more coffee. Before opening a bottle, I always look at what is on my plate, my water intake, my sleep, and the very simple way my daily life either lifts me up or drains me a little. So I keep a simple, almost archival approach: I note what works for me, leave aside what unsettles me, and never give a supplement more credit than a solid habit. I have respect for vitamin D when light is scarce, for magnesium when I feel tension rising, for omega-3s when I have been eating too far from the foods that naturally provide them. But I want them to remain in their proper place, serving my balance rather than some fantasy of performance. What I like about this approach is that it reflects my way of being in the world: open, attentive, without unnecessary pretence. I would rather make it through to the evening with greater clarity, fewer cravings and more presence than chase after a shiny promise that nourishes neither my body nor my appetite for life.