What Pizza Dough Has to Do with Unity

What pizza dough has to do with inner gifts, connection, and our longing for real togetherness – a reflection somewhere between the kitchen and world affairs.

This morning, as I listened to the news – full of tensions and divisions – I felt a deep sadness.

So many rifts being carved out.

So much energy going into building walls instead of bridges.

A little later, I found myself in the kitchen making – you guessed it – pizza dough.

As I mixed flour, water, yeast, salt – and a dash of olive oil – I realized: it’s actually not that complicated.

A few ingredients – gifts from nature – a bit of dedication, some loving kneading –and something begins to take shape that brings people together at the same table.

That’s when it struck me:

Pizza dough is an ambassador of unity.

It brings together things that, at first glance, couldn’t be more different.

Powdery. Wet. Lumpy. Oily.

But when you combine them, knead them well, and let them rest –something truly good emerges.

Ingredients alone don’t make a pizza – it takes interplay.

The same is true for us as humans:

When we live what is truly within us, when we bring forth our good essence, connection arises — and real community.

But as I kneaded, another thought surfaced:

How often do we actually bring in our own “good ingredients”?

How often do we dare to show what’s raw and real in us –not the loudest or flashiest, but what’s true, nourishing, and uniquely ours?

Instead, we often present only what’s neatly packaged and polished –

because we think that’s the only way to belong.

Yet separation doesn’t just come from difference.

It also comes from power plays, withdrawal, fear, or control –

often as a shield against old wounds.

But all of that stops us from offering what we really carry inside.

And so, the best of us stays unshared –

even though it’s exactly what fosters connection.

These inner gifts – our true ingredients –

aren’t meant to sit in the pantry forever.

Gathering dust. Compared. Misunderstood.

With the mistaken belief that flour needs to be sugar to be accepted.

Every ingredient has its place. Its role. Its value.

When we truly live our gifts,

they nourish not just ourselves – but the whole community.

Because deep down, we know:

We are not solitary creatures. We are pack animals.

We thrive when we feel connected.

When we nourish each other – not just with pizza, but with authenticity and empathy.

The best thing about pizza isn’t the dough alone –

it’s the harmony, the aroma, the way it draws people together.

And yes – most people like pizza.

Maybe because it reminds us that with our natural gifts – just like with a really good pizza –

we can create something together that: 

– nourishes rather than divides 

– connects rather than compares 

– honors diversity rather than hides it 

– brings joy – even in the making 

– and reminds us that life tastes best when we truly share it.

Which of your inner good ingredients are ready to come back to the table?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I believe we need more spaces where the real and the raw are welcome. This fall, I’ll be co-creating such a space—with the Enneagram, with movement, with people who want to remember what they have to give. If this calls to you, have a look—there are still a few spots left in our workshop in the beautiful Kiental (held in German).