At some point, we have to stop asking what the world expects of us and start asking what we are actually here to do. Not in some grand or abstract sense, but right here, in the middle of whatever is presently unfolding. Beneath the noise, beneath the accumulated assumptions and inherited stories, there remains a quieter position from which we can see, choose, and move differently. Perhaps that is where causation begins.
Category: Journal Entries
thoughts, ponderings, experiences and lessons learned. or, something deep and life-changing.
The Body Only Heals: Removing the Blindfolds of Modern Medicine
Learning the Language We Were Taught to Ignore
What if much of what we’ve been taught about health, illness, and the human body is not merely incomplete, but built upon assumptions we’ve rarely been encouraged to question? At some point, outsourcing our understanding of ourselves becomes its own kind of dependency. There is another possibility: becoming curious again, investigating what we think we know, and learning to trust the extraordinary intelligence of the organism we inhabit.
There are moments when another person’s choices expose something in us that we would rather not examine. Their willingness to risk, commit, uproot, rebuild, and begin again can become an uncomfortable mirror — not because we should imitate them, but because their movement reminds us of where we have remained still.
How much of what we believe must happen before we can move forward was ever truly ours to begin with? We inherit assumptions, expectations, fears, priorities, and definitions of success, then quietly build conditions around them. When this, then that. When I have enough. When I’m ready. When circumstances change. When someone approves. Eventually, these conditions cease to look like conditions at all. They begin to look like identity.
There is always a point when the wave begins to recede. The spectacle loses some of its glamour, the promises become harder to sustain, and what was presented as inevitable begins to look merely excessive. What remains afterward is often more useful than the frenzy that carried it in, but the retreat also exposes what the flood obscured: the interests behind it, the costs absorbed along the way, and how readily we can be persuaded to surrender our attention, judgment, and agency to whatever arrives next.