Every week, we dig into the everyday stuff that doesn’t always make headlines—but can quietly impact your health and home. This week, we're looking at something millions of people wear daily: the smartwatch.
It promises to make life easier by tracking your sleep, steps, and heart rate, but have you ever stopped to ask what it might be doing to your body while it’s doing all that?
From radiation exposure to chemical absorption through the skin, smartwatches come with a side of risk that most people never hear about. This week’s blog breaks down what’s happening when you wear a smartwatch around the clock, why the band material matters more than you think, and what to do if you're looking for smarter, safer ways to track your health without sacrificing it.
Product Spotlight
Staying hydrated’s a must in this heat—but plain water doesn’t always cut it. I started adding this clean electrolyte mix with magnesium, potassium, and ocean minerals to our drinks, and it’s been a game-changer (no weird stuff, just real ingredients that actually help). | |
Blog Spotlights
Why You Might Want to Rethink That Smartwatch on Your Wrist
Let’s talk about something that’s probably on your body right now. It’s sleek, high-tech, and maybe even helping you feel more “on top of things.” I’m talking about the smartwatch—a staple of modern life, especially for those trying to keep tabs on their health and productivity. But the question we need to ask…
What You Should Do Before Hitting the Pool This Summer
Summer is officially here, and for many, that means long days outdoors, weekends with friends, and—of course—time in the water. Whether it’s a chlorinated pool at the local club or a saltwater system in the backyard, swimming is a staple of summer life. It’s relaxing, it’s good exercise, and it’s a great way to cool down. But there’s something most people don’t realize about this everyday summertime activity…
The Hidden Health Dangers Brewing in Your Keurig
There’s a good chance your morning starts with the familiar hum of a coffee machine. It’s become a ritual for many—a quick, easy cup of caffeine before the day begins. For millions of households, that means using a Keurig or similar single-serve pod coffee maker. It’s convenient, fast, and promises consistency. But behind that daily brew is a growing concern…
3 Things You Shouldn't Buy at Costco (or Anywhere)
A Costco run can feel like a productivity win: bulk sizes, decent prices, and one-stop access to everything from pantry staples to cleaning supplies. However, convenience can come at a cost, especially regarding the everyday products we bring into our homes without thinking twice. The truth is…
Non-Toxic Tip of the Week
Minimize EMF Exposure While You Sleep
Your body does its most profound healing during sleep, so give it a break from unnecessary electromagnetic fields (EMFs).
👉Keep your phone in airplane mode and at least 6 feet from your bed at night. Better yet, leave it in another room and use a battery-powered alarm clock instead.
👉Move the Bed Away from the Smart Meter or Breaker Panel. Beds placed near these high-EMF sources can disrupt sleep quality. Rearranging the layout may help.
👉Unplug or Turn Off Wi-Fi at Night. Use a timer to shut off your router overnight or unplug it manually before bed.
Small changes like this reduce your cumulative EMF load and support better cellular repair while you rest.
Non-Toxic Recipe of the Week
Cooling DIY Skin Spray for Summer Relief
Our skin is remarkably resilient, but that doesn’t mean it’s invincible. It needs extra care during summer, or whenever we’re exposed to excess heat, sweat, friction, or chemicals. Whether you’ve been out in the sun, wearing a smartwatch all day, or simply dealing with the environmental stressors of the season, your skin could use a reset.
This DIY skin spray is designed to support recovery. It’s simple, effective, and made with ingredients that help calm inflammation, restore hydration, and support the skin barrier without adding unnecessary toxins.
If you’re homeschooling or just have extra books lying around, there’s a free webinar you might want to check out. Luke, the co-founder of a program called Book Profits, shares three simple online methods—no tech skills needed—that can help you create consistent income by putting those unused books to work. It’s a great way to bring in extra income to support your non-toxic lifestyle.
This Week on Social Media, I talked about:
That wraps it up for this week. Modern life is filled with exposure we didn’t sign up for. But the more we learn, the more we can choose what we let in—on our skin, homes, and bodies.
The goal is to equip you with enough insight to make informed, low-tox choices supporting your health. Whether it’s something as small as switching your smartwatch band, turning off your Wi-Fi at night, or misting your skin with something clean after a long day in the sun, these seemingly minor shifts add up.
Maybe this week is a good time to try something different.
*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.
