Pip the piglet was very, very careful about what went into his belly. Only the crunchiest apples. Only the sweetest corn. Only the freshest, most wholesome food — nothing rotten, nothing spoiled, nothing that would make his tummy ache.
But his mind? Pip fed his mind absolutely anything.
All day long, he gobbled up whatever came his way. The crow's gloomy gossip about everything going wrong. The goat's scary stories that made his heart pound. The rooster's endless complaints about how terrible everything was. Pip took it all in, without a second thought, letting his mind feast on gloom and worry and fear from morning to night.
And it showed. Pip's dreams were stormy and frightening. His days felt heavy and gray. He often woke up with his heart already racing, though he couldn't say why.
"Why do I feel so bad all the time?" he sighed one evening. "I eat such good food. I'm so careful about my belly. But I still feel awful and my dreams are always scary."
A gentle old sow, wise from many long seasons, overheard him. She came and settled down beside the little piglet.
"You are careful about your belly, Pip — that's good," she said kindly. "But tell me. Your mind eats too, you know. It eats everything you give it, all day long. So let me ask you: what did you feed your mind today?"
Pip paused. He'd never once thought about it. "Well... the crow's gloomy gossip. The goat's scary stories. The rooster's complaining. I let all of it in, all day."
The old sow nodded gently. "And how did that food sit with you? Did it leave you feeling light and calm, or heavy and afraid?"
"Heavy," Pip admitted. "And afraid. Especially at night."
"That's the thing about the mind," said the sow. "It's just like a belly. Feed it gloom and fright all day, and it aches — and it turns those thoughts into stormy dreams at night. But feed it well, and it settles, calm and content. Especially the very last thing you feed it before sleep. Those are the thoughts your dreams are made from."
Pip thought about this. "So I should choose my mind-food... as carefully as I choose my belly-food?"
"Even more carefully," said the sow warmly. "Especially before sleep."
So Pip began to try. During the day, when the crow started its gloomy gossip, Pip gently walked away — the way he'd walk away from spoiled food. When the goat began a scary story, Pip chose not to swallow it. And instead, he fed his mind good things: kind words from his friends, wonder-questions about the stars, the happy memories of his favorite parts of the day.
And at bedtime — most carefully of all — Pip fed his mind only the gentlest, warmest thoughts. He'd think of something kind that happened. Something he was grateful for. Something that made him feel safe and loved. And then, with his mind full of good food, he'd drift off to sleep.
Slowly, everything changed. Pip's stormy dreams gave way to gentle, happy ones. His heavy gray days grew lighter. He woke up calm instead of racing, rested instead of afraid.
"My mind eats everything I give it," Pip marveled, snuggling down one peaceful night. "Just like my belly. So I'll feed it well — kind words, and wonder, and happy memories. Especially now, right before sleep."
And with his mind full of the very best food, warm and calm and safe, Pip closed his eyes — and drifted off into the sweetest dreams he'd ever known.
