Salt might seem like one of those basic pantry items you don’t have to think twice about, but if you're trying to be more intentional about what goes into your body, it’s time to take a closer look. The truth is, not all salt is created equal. Some are loaded with synthetic additives and contaminants like microplastics and heavy metals, while others can support your health with trace minerals your body needs.
This week, we’re unpacking what you need to know about Costco's stocked sea salt brands. Whether you're shopping on a budget or just trying to make smarter choices at your go-to store, it helps to know which brands are worth tossing in the cart and which are best left on the shelf. We’ll talk about the popular picks, the hidden red flags, and how to confidently choose the cleanest, safest salt for your kitchen.
This swap can make a real difference if you’re serious about reducing your daily toxin exposure. Let’s break it down.
Non-Toxic Swap For This Week
| When it comes to choosing a clean, high-quality olive oil, Kasandrinos has become my go-to. Their organic, cold-pressed oil is free of additives and packed with rich, natural flavor—perfect for cooking or drizzling. Take a look at their collection HERE! |
Blog Spotlights
The Best (and Worst) Sea Salt Brands at Costco
You’re not alone if you’ve ever stood in the grocery aisle trying to choose a sea salt that won’t add to your toxic load. Between clever marketing, misleading labels, and real concerns about contamination, it can be tough to know which brands to trust, especially when shopping at big-box stores like Costco…
3 Lawn Products to Stop Using for Your Health and the Planet
There’s something deeply satisfying about tending to your yard—whether it’s laying down fresh mulch, watching your grass grow thick and green, or planting a garden that feeds both your family and the local pollinators. But in the rush to create that picture-perfect outdoor space, many of us unknowingly...
The Hidden Health Risks of Polyester Underwear
Most guys don’t think twice about their underwear. As long as it fits and gets the job done, it’s good enough, right? Not quite. It turns out that the fabric closest to some of the most sensitive and hormonally active areas of your body might be...
A Clean Alternative to Costco Hot Dogs
It’s hard to walk through Costco without noticing that familiar sign: the food court hot dog combo, still holding strong at $1.50. The Costco hot dog has become a cult legend in a world where inflation hits everything from eggs to tires. But if you're paying close attention to what goes into your body—or your family ’s-it’s time to take a closer look at what you’re getting with that iconic food court snack.
Non-Toxic Tip of the Week
👉Check the origin of your sea salt. When in doubt, skip heavily processed salts and look for those sourced from cleaner regions like Australia or the Mediterranean. These are more likely to be free of microplastics and heavy metals. If a brand doesn’t provide transparency, like third-party testing or Certificates of Analysis, it’s a sign to keep looking.
👉 Ditch salts with anti-caking agents. Many conventional salts, like Morton’s Kosher Salt, use additives such as sodium ferrocyanide to prevent clumping, but these synthetic compounds don’t belong in your food. Look for salts that list only one ingredient: salt. A little clumping is typical—and a sign your salt isn’t laced with unnecessary chemicals.
👉 Store your sea salt in glass, not plastic. Even the cleanest salt can pick up unwanted chemicals if kept in low-quality plastic containers, especially in warm or humid environments. Transferring your salt to a glass jar helps protect it from absorbing microplastics or leaching chemicals over time, keeping your pantry looking sharp.
My Go-To Salt Brand
Non-Toxic Recipe of the Week
Mineral-Rich Roasted Veggies
When we talk about clean eating, we usually think about avoiding ultra-processed foods, seed oils, or synthetic preservatives. But the ingredients that seem the most innocent—like the salt we shake over our food—can be hiding some of the worst offenders. If you're someone working to reduce your toxic load, it’s not just about what you eat, but how you season it. That’s why this week’s non-toxic recipe highlights one small but powerful upgrade: switching to clean, mineral-rich sea salt.
To help you make that switch practically, I’ve created this go-to recipe that you can keep on rotation. It’s quick, nutrient-dense, and built entirely from real, whole ingredients. Roasting brings natural sweetness to vegetables, while high-quality sea salt draws out flavor without adding toxins to your plate.
| When we unknowingly consume contaminated sea salts that may carry traces of heavy metals or microplastics, we introduce low-level toxins into our system that can build up over time. This is where a product like Cytodetox can be incredibly helpful. Cytodetox is designed to support the body’s natural detoxification pathways by binding to and helping remove harmful toxins at a cellular level. Its advanced formula includes clinically studied zeolite molecules that can target and trap heavy metals, making it a valuable ally in reducing your toxic burden—especially when exposure comes from everyday sources like salt. |
This Week on Social Media, I talked about:
As we’ve seen this week, even something as seemingly simple as salt deserves a second look. The data on contaminants like heavy metals and microplastics is growing, and while no option is perfect, there are better choices we can make, especially when they're easily accessible. If we’re serious about reducing our toxic burden, it starts with the ingredients we use every day.
Thanks for staying curious and committed. Until next time, keep prioritizing what’s real, traceable, and clean.
*Not what you're looking for? Go to the HTML version for the fancy stuff and content. OR: I need to ask you something.. How tightly are you holding on? Now don’t just answer with your mind. Feel it. Feel the grip inside of you, the tension, the way your heart clings to things, the way your mind grabs at control. I’m asking because this story is about letting go. Not in theory—not as some idea to think about. But as something to do. Right now. Let me explain. There was a man who lived his life as if he were holding on to a rope. The rope was long and frayed, tied to all the things he thought he needed to survive. He gripped it with both hands and held on for dear life. He thought that if he let go, he would fall into an abyss. He didn’t know exactly what was down there, but he knew it would be bad. He’d lose everything—his family, his job, his sense of self. Without the rope, he was certain, he would be nothing. But holding the rope was exhausting. It burned his palms and cut into his fingers. Sometimes it felt like the rope pulled him in different directions at once—one end tied to his need for people to like him, the other to his fear of failure. Sometimes the tension on the rope was unbearable, but still, he held on. Because to let go? That was unthinkable. One day, the man met an old woman sitting on a bench in a park. She had a peaceful glow about her, as if she carried no burdens at all. The man was jealous of her ease. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way. “How are you so calm?” he asked her. The woman looked at him and smiled. “I let go of the rope,” she said simply. The man frowned. “What rope?” “The one you’re holding,” she said. “You can’t see it, but you can feel it, can’t you? That tightness inside of you. That fear that if you let go, you’ll lose everything. But the truth is, the rope isn’t saving you. It’s strangling you.” The man was quiet for a long time. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know how to imagine a life without holding on to the rope. “But if I let go,” he said finally, “won’t I fall?” The woman’s smile deepened. “That’s what you think,” she said. “But the only thing you’ll fall into is freedom.” The man didn’t believe her, of course. How could he? Letting go went against everything he’d been taught. He’d spent his whole life being told that survival depended on holding on—holding on to people, to possessions, to control. Letting go felt like giving up. It felt like failure. So I ask you again: How tightly are you holding on? Can you feel the tension in your chest, the grip in your heart? And more importantly, can you let it go? You don’t have to do it all at once. Just open your hands a little. Just loosen the grip. And when you do, you’ll find that you’re not falling. You’re floating. You’re free. Let go of the rope. Trust me. You don’t need it. The Labyrinth of Light The dome was a living sun. Its translucent panels, segmented like a beetle’s shell, refracted the noonday radiance into a thousand glittering shards, each shard sliding and shimmering along the smooth, white walls below. Everything gleamed with antiseptic brightness, unmarred by the stains of weather, time, or emotion. This was Aurorium, the City of Light. It had no shadows, and, officially, no doubts. Here, under the ever-shining dome, humanity had left behind its fumbling uncertainties, its endless agonies of self-questioning. Gone were the abstract struggles of philosophers and the ceaseless murmur of poets. In their place stood the Ministry of Illumination, with its shining creed: “Meaning is not found—it is assigned. Meaning is not sought—it is delivered.” At the Ministry, every citizen was given their Lumen Pathway by the time they reached their eighteenth year. The system was flawless, or so the Ministry claimed. Each person’s psychometric profile was carefully analyzed; their neural maps scanned and cross-checked against the Collective Consciousness Index. By the end of the process, the result was inevitable: a tailored life-purpose, as precise as the color of one’s irises or the number of lines on one’s fingerprints. And yet, here was Elias. Elias Lorne, Citizen #71184-17, stood at the base of the Ministry’s grand atrium, staring at his Lumen Certificate. The holographic display shimmered faintly in the sterile air, the words inscribed in perfect golden light: "Your purpose is to tend the Reservoirs of Radiance." The Reservoirs. He had heard of them—a vast network of subterranean pools where the city’s refractive crystals were immersed and cleansed, their radiance replenished to ensure the eternal glow of Aurorium. It was honorable work, no doubt, necessary for the city’s unbroken illumination. And yet, as he stood there, holding his future in his hands, something in Elias’s chest remained unmoved. “Is this all there is?” he murmured under his breath. Behind him, a low hum of activity filled the atrium. Young citizens, fresh from their assignments, buzzed with nervous energy. Some smiled, others wept with joy at the clarity of their destinies. A girl beside him held her certificate like a talisman, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’ll be a Vision Architect!” Another boy punched the air triumphantly, announcing to no one in particular, “Harmonic Technician. Exactly what I wanted!” Elias’s fingers tightened around the edge of the hologram. It wasn’t that he objected to the assignment—not exactly. He understood the necessity of the work. But somewhere deep in the cavernous recess of his mind, a quiet question flickered like a match held too close to the wind: Wasn’t there something more? The next morning, Elias descended into the Reservoirs. “Dangerous?” “Restlessness is a crack,” Mara said. “And cracks are where the darkness seeps in.” Elias hesitated. Then, without meaning to, he said: “Do you ever feel like there’s something missing?” For a long moment, Mara was silent. Then, to Elias’s surprise, she smiled. “Come with me,” she said. That night, Mara led Elias to a hidden passage at the edge of the Reservoirs. The corridor was narrow and dim, its walls streaked with stains of rust. At the end of the tunnel was a door, heavy and ancient, unlike anything Elias had seen in Aurorium. Mara pushed it open. Inside was darkness. Not the faint, shimmering darkness of the city’s shadowless corners, but a true, unbroken blackness that swallowed light whole. For a moment, Elias was overwhelmed by it. The silence was absolute, the void pressing against his skin like a living thing. “What is this place?” he whispered. Mara’s voice was quiet, reverent. “This is where the light comes from.” Elias frowned. “What do you mean? The light comes from the crystals.” Mara shook her head. “The crystals only reflect it. But the source—the true source—is here. In the dark.” She gestured toward the center of the room. There, faintly visible, was a single point of light, no larger than a grain of sand. It pulsed softly, irregularly, like the heartbeat of some distant, unseen creature. “The Ministry doesn’t talk about this,” Mara continued. “They want people to believe the light is infinite, self-sustaining. But it’s not. It comes from here. And it’s fragile.” Elias stared at the tiny light, his chest tightening. “Why are you showing me this?” “Because you’re asking questions,” Mara said simply. “And questions can’t be answered in the light. Not the real ones.” In the weeks that followed, Elias found himself drawn back to the dark room. He spent hours staring at the tiny light, his thoughts unraveling in its faint glow. What was it about the darkness, he wondered, that made the light seem so alive? In the Reservoirs, surrounded by radiance, the light had felt hollow, artificial. But here, cradled in shadow, it was different—fragile, imperfect, and undeniably real. Perhaps, Elias thought, meaning wasn’t something the Ministry could assign after all. Perhaps it wasn’t something that could be given at all. Perhaps meaning had to be carved out of the dark.
