This week, I want to bring your attention to something that almost nobody talks about—but absolutely should. We spend so much time cleaning up our diets, swapping out toxic cookware, filtering our water, and minimizing plastics… but there’s a hidden hazard humming in the background of almost every kitchen: your refrigerator.
Yep. That seemingly harmless appliance, keeping your food cold, might sabotage your health in ways you’ve never considered. I didn’t either—until a friend casually asked if I’d ever checked the EMF levels coming off my fridge. That one question sent me a rabbit hole of EMF science, childhood leukemia research, and ways to redesign your kitchen with health in mind.
This newsletter dives deep into EMFs in the kitchen, why they matter, and how you can take smart, simple steps to protect your family and your nervous system without going off the grid or unplugging your appliances.
Non-Toxic Swap For This Week
| Lately, I’ve been reaching for Pluck every time I cook. It’s this really flavorful blend made with organ-based ingredients—and it somehow makes everything taste better while adding a bit of nourishment too. Thought I’d share it in case you want to try it out HERE! |
Blog Spotlights
Is Your Fridge Secretly Sabotaging Your Health?
We think of our homes as safe spaces. We stock the fridge with clean food, install water filters, cut back on plastics, and maybe even go organic when possible. But there’s one hidden hazard that most people never consider…
The Hidden Dangers Inside Your Car
We take pride in our car vehicles. Whether it’s a beat-up old truck or a sleek electric sedan, there’s something satisfying about keeping it clean and looking good. But here’s a question most people never ask…
Are Your LED Lights Secretly Draining You?
LED lights are everywhere—in our homes, offices, and kids’ classrooms. They’ve become the default choice for lighting and are sold to us as efficient and eco-friendly. But behind that bright, bluish glow lies a hidden cost to your health…
Kitchen Hazards That Could Be Poisoning Your Meals
When discussing health, we usually start with food—what we eat, how we cook it, and where it comes from. But there’s another layer most people overlook: what we’re using to prepare that food in the first place. Even if you’re buying organic, cooking from scratch, and avoiding processed junk, you could still be exposing yourself—and your family—to harmful toxins every single time you make a meal. The culprit?…
Non-Toxic Tip of the Week
Give Your Fridge Some Space
Your refrigerator might emit more than a quiet hum—it could release electromagnetic fields (EMFs) strong enough to impact your health, especially if you spend time within 3–4 feet of it.
The simplest and most effective way to reduce your exposure? Create distance.
Rearrange your kitchen so prep stations, stools, or high-traffic areas aren’t pressed against the fridge. If your bed, work desk, or kids’ play area shares a wall with the fridge, move it at least 4 feet away. EMFs drop off sharply with distance, and this slight shift can make a big difference for your brain, sleep, hormones, and long-term well-being.
It’s a low-effort move for a high-impact upgrade to your home environment.
Non-Toxic Recipe of the Week
Clean Smarter: A Safer Kitchen Solution
If you’re spraying down your fridge or kitchen counters with a name-brand cleaner that smells like "mountain rain" or "spring breeze," chances are you’re coating your home in VOCs (volatile organic compounds), synthetic fragrances, and chemical irritants that stick around long after you’ve wiped them down. These exposures might seem small, but they accumulate, and combined with EMFs, they can create a layered toxic load your body has to work overtime to process.
This all-purpose spray is one of the easiest swaps you can make in your kitchen. It’s made with ingredients you probably already have and does the job, without compromising your air quality, hormones, or nervous system.
This Week on Social Media, I talked about:
That’s a wrap for this week, Non-Toxic Friends.
If you take just one thing away from today’s newsletter, let it be this: your environment matters—especially the parts of it you don’t see. These exposures can build up over time, whether it’s the low-level EMFs pulsing from your fridge or the chemical residue left behind from a spray bottle. But the good news is that solutions can be found. Small shifts, consistently applied, can make a real difference in how you feel and how your home supports your health.
Thanks for being here and doing the work to make your home safer and more intentional.
*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.
