This is my final post. It has been a nice companion. What the blank page lacks in generosity, it makes up for in patience.

As my final address, I will reflect on the heart, and where we choose to center it.

Regardless of advances in technology, we are mortal. I am going to die. So will you. We speak of terminal illnesses as if they are a rare curse. In reality, the adage stands true: we are all walking around with a terminal illness ā€“ itā€™s called life.

I am not arguing against the study of medicine. That would be alarming as I allocated considerable time and money to doing so. All the more, it is important to remember that the best remedy, adjustment or lifestyle will not save us from death in the end.

Lore has it that Alexander the Great requested his empty hand hang outside his casket, as a way to communicate that even the greatest conqueror leaves the world empty handed. He also asked his physicians to carry his casket, to symbolize that the best doctors cannot save us from death.

At some point, the healthiest among us face the inevitable ā€“ the decay of our bodies and the forgetting of our existence. Itā€™s a painful road to walk, so we donā€™t.

Speaking for myself, I go about my day as if I were infallible, tending to the mundane and ignoring matters of faith and meaning.

The Questions

Instead of confronting my mortality by questioning, challenging and clarifying my beliefs, I ignore it. I grasp at anything for temporary meaning: possessions, health, wealth, comfort, romance. When will I learn? ā€œMy heart was made for you, O Lord, and it indeed is restless, until it rests in you.ā€Ģż(St. Augustine)

Paradoxically, once the desires of the heart are rightly set ā€“ on God above all else ā€“ then all else becomes far more meaningful. It doesnā€™t mean everything suddenly works in our favor, thatā€™s an unfortunate misconception. Often the marriage still fails. The layoff still comes. The cancer still spreads.

But despite the hardship and pain, we have what is greater. When we lack lifeā€™s temporary gifts, we confront the litmus test of the heart ā€“ the opportunity to prioritize the Giver over the gifts.

And when we center our hearts on God himself ā€“ truly on the Giver, and not the gifts he provides ā€“ then we have the greatest gift of all. We have meaning that surpasses, or at least outlasts, our pain.

Where a garden is cultivated, I needn’t toil in wild pastures. Victor Frankl says it best: ā€œhe who has a why to live, can bear almost any how.ā€Ģż

Itā€™s a lesson I desire to learn daily and most days, hourly.

In the Bible, there is a recurring metaphor of cisterns, which are reservoirs for collecting water. Cisterns are used to symbolize the human heart, or inner life. The cisterns of our hearts are meant to be filled with truth and love, but instead we fill them with other things ā€“ with inadequate substitutions for Godā€™s presence. We have broken cisterns.

Our broken cisterns are lamented over by God himself in Jeremiah: ā€œMy people have committed two evils: they have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed for themselves cisterns, broken cisterns that can hold no water.ā€ (2:13)

Itā€™s one of many deeper metaphors for idolatry. Unfortunately, idolatry to modern minds conjures thoughts of stone statues and archaic enactments. But idolatry is more prevalent now than ever.

Our reputations, our homes, our bank accounts, our muscles, our feelings, our Instagrams ā€“ these are the idols and broken cisterns of today. Itā€™s not bad to invest in them, but they are disordered in their importance when we prioritize their temporary meaning over that which is eternal.

The life of King Solomon is one example. Known for building the temple and asking for wisdom in all his splendor, he eventually took on 700 wives and 300 concubines that were the source of his fall into idolatry.

As his final reflections, Solomon wrote the book of Ecclesiastes, lamenting on the emptiness of prioritizing broken cisterns in the end. He uses the famous ā€œchasing of the windā€Ģżmetaphor to describe his experience of striving for worldly things that are ultimately unsatisfying.

What makes this difficult is that we are largely unaware we pursue idols and have broken cisterns. As Rumi points out, ā€œif you desire healing, let yourself fall ill,ā€Ģżand in Jesusā€™s words, ā€œit is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sickā€Ģż(Luke 5:31).

In order to seek healing, you must first know you are sick. And we all are sick.

Reflections

Dr. Timothy Keller says a helpful way to reveal our idols ā€“ that we all have ā€“ involves examining where our anxieties lay. Do we have social anxiety? Perhaps weā€™re clinging too strongly to reputation and the opinions of others. Do we have financial anxiety? Perhaps weā€™re chasing security, or control.

Itā€™s captured most efficiently in the Sermon on the Mount: ā€œwhere your treasure is, there your heart will be also.ā€Ģż(Matt 6:21) Storing up treasures on earth seems logical and intuitive now, but perhaps there is another way.

I believe the concept of salvation through grace ā€“ that we were bought through the substitutionary atonement of God himself, as a radical act of love ā€“ fortifies and humbles the heart of anyone who sees it to be one of obedience, joy and love more than any other doctrine of salvation could.

God doesnā€™t love us because we are lovely. He loves us to make us lovely. Or in the words of CS Lewis, ā€œthe Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us.ā€Ģż

Countless men and women have given their lives to walk this path of faith, and I look to them as tangible examples of bravery beyond my wildest imagination.

To that end, I conclude with the words of Esther, Queen of Persia, with the desire that, like her, we too may resist the temptations we willĢżencounter to invest our hearts in the broken cisterns of today. Esther faced the ultimate test of the heart, being uniquely positioned to save her people at the expense of her life, so many years ago.

ā€œSo will I go in unto the king, which is not according to the law, and if I perish, I perish.ā€ (Esther 4:16)

While Esther was spared, a man came along centuries after her who lived a perfect life and was not spared. He took the punishment we deserve, and died in our place, so we could be free.

I believe grace can transform the hardest heart, for it did my own, to this degree of confidence and humility. It is the best ā€“ in fact the only ā€“ medicine that is indeed, lifesaving.

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Today I reflect on rest. It was mentioned in a one-credit class first trimester and never since. I speculate rest is the next nutrition, in the sense that eventually, people will realize a lack of it is responsible for the majority of diseases, and it therefore deserves a place in both medical education and patient care.

Todayā€™s Culture

Unfortunately, in present culture, rest is synonymous with watching TV or our phones. This misunderstanding is tragic and likely why it is ignored as a critical part of health.

Rest is not laziness. On the contrary, true rest is active! It requires discipline. It is often harder to follow the steps of rest than it is to work, which is why most avoid it. According to the ancient definition, rest is the intentional act of remembering our true identity.

Regarding its origins, rest is one of the Ten Commandments. Itā€™s up there with donā€™t steal, donā€™t commit adultery and donā€™t murder. In the foundational core of Judaic and Christian law, we are commanded to rest at the same level of importance that we are commanded not to murder. What does this mean?

To understand, it is important to revisit the original intent of rest. In Genesis, God rested after the work of creating. There are two observations in this. First, that God works. Second, that God rests. Not that he needed to work or rest, but he chose to do both.

The pertinent question in the narrative is, what does God do when he rests? The answer is simple: He delights in his work. And what is his work? Itā€™s His creation: itā€™s us!

We ā€“ human beings ā€“ are the work that he intentionally devotes His time and attention to appreciate, and delight in. We are his artwork, his masterpiece. He creates us and then sits back and proclaims us good.

The idea of rest and keeping the Sabbath ā€“ the weekly day of rest ā€“ is reintroduced in the story of Exodus. God has recently worked through Moses to deliver the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. As they wander in the desert, God commands them to keep the Sabbath as a way of remembering that they once were slaves and now are free.

Keeping Sabbath rest involves a lot of steps. The most central is to abstain from work, but also to spend time in fellowship with others, study scripture and attend services to engage in prayer, song, recitation and other rituals of remembrance and worship.

Once Again, True Rest Is An Active DisciplineĢż

Under the new covenant, the Sabbath remains a time to give thanks for our deliverance. But this time, the deliverance is not from being slaves in Egypt, but from being slaves to sin and death itself. It is a way to honor and appreciate what God desires us to know ā€“ that we donā€™t belong to the world and its systems, but rather, we belong to Him.

A stirring illustration of this comes from the Gospel of Luke, when Jesus visits the home of Martha and Mary in the town of Bethany. Mary sits at Jesusā€™s feet, listening to his words, while Martha frantically deals in the preparations of hosting. The quote above is Jesusā€™ response to Martha, when she acknowledges the discrepancy and asks for Maryā€™s help.

ā€œā€˜Martha, Martha,ā€™ the Lord answered, ā€˜you are worried and upset about many things. But few things are needed ā€“ or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better. And it will not be taken away from her.ā€™ā€ (Luke 10:41-42)

It feels like a bold reprimand to an honest request. But those are the best kind. In it, Jesus lovingly reminds Martha that she does not belong to the world, with its unspoken social expectations, but instead she belongs to Him. In essence, he reminds her to carry true Sabbath rest in her heart.

I struggle with it every day. Sometimes Iā€™m a Mary, centered on my eternal identity, but other times I am certainly a Martha, caught up in the inertia of the world and the attractive counterfeit identities it offers. What can I say, I am easily seduced.

But thatā€™s the point. Remembering and resting in our true identity, as the masterpiece of creation that is declared good by the Creator himself, is hard work. Itā€™s not for the faint of heart in a world full of shame, brokenness and temporary identities.

The best part of practicing the steps of Sabbath rest ā€“ in order to remember our true identity ā€“ is that it realigns the posture of the heart to simultaneously be one of complete confidence and absolute humility. Confidence in our restoration through the free gift of grace, and humility because it is undeserved, with no way of earning it.

I recognize the ancient perspective on rest is unfamiliar. I chose to reflect on it because it offers value to the world of holistic health care. Withdrawing from the pull of the worldā€™s demands is hard, and often countercultural. But it restores the soul and lets us be refreshed by living water.

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But Iā€™m not so sure

That home is a place

You can still get to by train.ā€

Ģ¶Ģż Jon Foreman

The concept of homecoming is a strange one. It evokes thoughts of high school football games and the dread of not being asked to a dance, rivaled only by the fear of being asked.

But historically, homecoming had a different association. I used to keep a copy of The OdysseyĢżin my car from a free roadside library to see what it felt like to be smart. I only read the beginning before tiring of the experiment, but it is easy to remember, because it spoke to a latent desire.

The Story of Odysseus

The story opens with Odysseus, who encounters obstacles during his journey home from war. Meanwhile, his wife faces suitors vying for her hand, believing Odysseus to be dead. His son, entering manhood, sets out to find his father.

The greatest epic ever written is, first and foremost, a tale of delayed homecoming. Our fascination with the idea is inherent to being human. It can be repressed but never extinguished. Why are we so captivated by it?

My brother was visiting last week and had a book that hinted at the answer. It describes the authorā€™s encounter with Rembrandtā€™s ā€œThe Return of the Prodigal Sonā€ painting, which illustrates the homecoming scene of the younger brother from The Story of Two Sons and Their FatherĢżin the Gospel of Luke. Here is what author Henri Nouwen says:

But beneath or beyond all that, ā€œcoming homeā€ meant, for me, walking step-by-step toward the One who awaits me with open arms and wants to hold me in an eternal embrace. I knew Rembrandt deeply understood this spiritual homecoming. I knew that, when Rembrandt painted his Prodigal Son, he had lived a life that had left him with no doubt about his true and final home. I felt that, if I could meet Rembrandt right where he had painted father and son, God and humanity, compassion and misery, in one circle of love, I would come to know as much as I ever would about death and life. I also sensed the hope that through Rembrandtā€™s masterpiece I would one day be able to express what I most wanted to say about love.

Well, I admit, looking at the painting (pictured above) doesnā€™t bring me anywhere close to this epiphany. Growing up in modern culture is not without consequence.

But the point is that while modern life can do a good job ā€“ unfortunately, a great job ā€“ of repressing our desire (or at least, awareness of our desire) for homecoming, it can never eliminate it. Comfort is the worthiest spiritual adversary we face, but even comfort is not stronger than the flame in our heart that knows there is something greater, something more.

Who hasnā€™t had the experience of yearning for something for a long time ā€“ a homecoming desire of sorts ā€“ only to finally attain it, and realize it doesnā€™t satisfy?

This used to happen to me frequently. I remember I was desperate to get a job when I was 22 and was certain all my problems would be solved once I did. Eventually, I got one. All my problems were not solved.

The same could be said of countless ā€˜disappointed homecomingsā€™ of my past. In my worldly homecomings, there is always something missing.

No matter how stable our homes, families, accomplishments and sense of identity are, these things remain fallible, and we are wise to remember we are always sojourners in a foreign land.

The Essence of Homecoming

That is why the idea of homecoming is inherently engaging to humans. We all long for the embrace of a perfect Heavenly Father who fully knows and accepts us on a personal level. It is why we were created. It is why we have dĆ©jĆ -vu for a reunion we havenā€™t yet experienced. Our worldly homecomings may give us a taste, but they always fall short

The concept is relevant to healers because it is coupled with vibrant, infallible health. True homecoming will restore soul andĢżbody. We are told in the Book of Isaiah, another famous story of homecoming, that he will strengthen our frame, that we will be like a well-watered garden whose waters never run dry (58:11).

Itā€™s a beautiful thing. The human heart has been yearning for homecoming since the time of Odysseus in 2,800 BCE, and recognizing this can lend to deeper meaning of the pains and trials we face in our lives today, for both ourselves and our patients.

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The Mind & the Heart

As naturopathic doctors, we emphasize behavioral changes to support healing. This reflects the modern belief that the mind is the center of a person. The mind is capable of reason, and therefore rules over emotion, behavior and character.

The belief that we are dictated by the faculties of the mind is evident in our prescribing discipline and lifestyle changes for infirmities from obesity to depression.

In contrast, Judaic tradition viewed the heart, not the mind, as the seat of the will. The heart was the source of emotion, behavior and the primary shaper of our identity. They believed the mind reflects the attitudes of the heart, not the other way around.

The Proverbs and parables are brimming with imagery supporting this view, and personal experience confirms it. Iā€™ve tried to change my mind countless times, but it is futile until something deeper shifts. True change stems from the heart.

I recently came across an unexpected illustration of this in an article my husband read to me on male friendship. The narrator describes how his close friendships faded once he reached adulthood. This experience isnā€™t unique. In fact, it is expected in our culture.

But it wasnā€™t always this way. For centuries, friendship was regarded as the highest form of relationship. Marriage was entered into for practical reasons, to form a household and raise a family, but not for intimacy. People found their most intimate relationships through friendship.

A famous example is King David and Jonathan in ancient Israel. I listened to a sermon based on a passage in 1 Samuel when the pair embrace and weep after narrowly escaping with their lives. The pastor said in times when men were warriors, and their masculinity secure, they were free to express verbal and physical affection more eloquently than is acceptable today.

In the article, the narrator, inspired by David Goggins, attempts to overcome his loneliness through sheer willpower. He begins diligently exercising.

He embraces the modern emphasis on independence at all costs. Donā€™t rely on anyone. For a while, it worked. He got very strong. He looked and felt better. But in the end, he still found himself depressed, crying and longing for a missing piece of his humanity.

The article ended with him coming across a podcast that led him to reconnect with an old friend and more directly address the hole in his heart. A step in the right direction.

The Stoic Approach

What I find most interesting is that he tried the stoic approach of asserting force of mind to control his emotionsĢżand behaviors, and despite succeedingā€“as evidenced by meticulous discipline, health and strengthā€“ he was still left feeling empty. While stoic attempts to control the will can succeed, they never render true wholeness.

Our attempts to fill our void with anything except Godā€“even good thingsā€“will always disappoint and leave us empty.ĢżDavid, perhaps, understood this more than anyone, as reflected in prayers that plead not for a new circumstance, but a new orientation of heart: ā€œcreate in me a clean heart, O God. And renew an upright spirit within my inmost beingā€Ģż(Ps 51:10).

We go through life thinking we need a new body, new apartment, new clothes, new marriage or new job. But what we really need is a new heart. One that is oriented, above all, to a personal relationship with God, which is why we were created.

As David shows, a new heart can never come from willpower. Asserting force of mind might yield big muscles, vast knowledge, and other good outcomes, but not true fulfillment. A whole heart comes only from God.

I always wonder at the irony. Why is it that in lifeā€™s most crushing moments, it is easier for me to be strong in mind than weak in heart? But only through weakness, and the emptying of our counterfeit securities to which each heart so fiercely clings, can we finally be filled.

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This is easy in theory and difficult in practice. The seasons of my life when I struggle in vain are a result of my disregard to this concept.ĢżIt is rare when I am not uncentered in my priorities.

Theory vs. Practice

When I was young, I wanted to fit in with friends. When I was in high school, I wanted to get good grades and make my parents proud. When I was in college I wanted to be pursued by a boy, and when I graduated, desperation hit a new high to get a job and money.

Once a job was attained, and quickly discovered to be pointless, my desire re-routed toward relationship, career and family.

As it turns out, I am quite superficial. I conjecture most of us are. I donā€™t often serve others and when I do, itā€™s because that other is in some way linked to me, which transitively remains self-serving.

The interesting part is that while self-centeredness can certainly make one selfish and rude, more often it has the effect of making one moral and upright. There is no better way to satisfy a strong desire to feel good about oneself than by being a respectable person.

But behaving lawfully for the sake of feeling good about oneself remains, at its root, selfish.

Us vs. Them?

Are we helping people for their sake or our own? Am I genuinely considering the unique needs of my patient, my classmate and my neighbor, or am I serving them so I might prove my own self-worth?

This is a focal point of Saint Augustine and many early philosophers, who captured the futile plight of humans to earn our worthiness through secondary pursuits, even good ones, by saying, ā€œOur hearts were made for you, O Lord, and they are restless, until they rest in you.ā€

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Defining Presence-of-Play

I recently heard that presence–of-play indicates a person is developing at an ideal rate. The concept was esoteric at first. I associate play with children and toys. But play can correspond to any age or situation. Play is using interaction as opportunity for creativity.

When I apply it to my own life, I understand. The times I engage in play are the times I am growing at a good rate of change, challenged neither too little, nor too much.

Childhood was a time of constant play, followed by the social blossoming of adolescence. I play when I fall in love. And I realize now that I learned to appreciate play during my first job, when my interactions were most at risk of becoming robotic.

Play encompasses all things, even, or especially, the mundane: sitting in class, treating patients, feeding the baby, doing the dishes, chatting with the cashier at checkout.

By nature, play requires another person. We were created in the image of a relational Creator, hence, we are made for relationships. This is why marriage and true friendship are beneficial.

The same podcast that posed the concept of play said that describing Eve as a ā€˜helperā€™ for Adam stems from poor translation of the original text. The word better means ā€˜beneficial adversary.’

Woman is created not only to support, but to sharpen. What a compliment!

We are meant to sharpen swords, and we do it through play. Sometimes it means being nurturing and comforting. Other times, confrontional and challenging.

When I tend toward being robotic ā€“ as I do in stress ā€“ my husband engages me in play. If Iā€™m cooking dinner and reciting the tasks that (I think) need accomplished, he gently pulls me to the living room to dance. I do the same for him, in my own way.

The potential of fraternal jostling is infinite, but it requires willingness to challenge and be challenged. I encourage my husband to take risks. He shows me love and therefore teaches me to love.

The concept of growing through relational play echos through Scripture. Proverbs directly states, ā€œas iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the character of his friendā€ (27:17).

For students and future physicians, our careers rely on play. We wither when we treat patients robotically. Fortunately, the structure for play is built in.

By nature of the job, we hold intimate encounters with people seeking to be healed. I certainly fall short of being the beneficial adversary to others that I was created to be, but I get to practice daily, and that is a gift.

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I revisit this quote during times of transition. It captures a common attribute of people I admire: answering the call to adventure. It is a concept Jordan Peterson discussed in a recent conversation with Joe Rogan, that my husband relayed to me.

Dr. Peterson said the Biblical narrative is one of sacrifice and adventure, illustrated by the overall plot, and the individual character narratives, especially those of Cain and Abel, Abraham and Moses.

Regardless of belief, these stories impart wisdom for living. One example is from the story of Moses. While working as a shepherd in Midian, he sees a bush that is on fire but not consumed. His interest is piqued. What does he do? He veers from his path to investigate. That is important. As Dr. Peterson says, we must ā€œpay attention to the phenomenon that captures our interest.ā€

As a result of paying attention, Moses enters holy ground and is given his famous call to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. What I find interesting is how vague the initial instruction is that Moses receives. He understandably questions how he, a shepherd, will convince Pharoh, the most powerful man, to secede. In response he receives rightful rebuke, but I certainly still empathize with his doubts and desire to know.

In times of transition, we want to ask how. We want to see the map, to know how we will get from where we are now to where we are going. But Moses wasnā€™t given aĢżmap for his call to adventure. He was called to trust in full.

Likewise, we are not given aĢżmap. But we are given something better: the Guide. As such, answering the call to adventure regardless of circumstance or outcome is the only way forward.

How is it relevant to us as ND/DC students? Transition is inevitable. We sit through years of classes, exams and clinic requirements. Then one day it ends. We reach the part where we must go forth and do, largely on faith, without knowing the details of the path ahead.

Understanding the call requires delicate discernment. Hence, cultivating wisdom is paramount.

I once heard a pastor say it made him sad when young adults asked him if they should take a certain job, marry a potential spouse, or move to a new town, because wisdom cannot be built in a moment. If you need it and donā€™t have it, it is too late. Wisdom must be formed over time, typically many years, as a daily habit.

Will you pay attention to that which captures your interest? Will you heed the call, regardless of circumstance or outcome? Will you cultivate wisdom now, to be ready when it comes? Perhaps it will be the most important thing you do.

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–A.W. Tozer

ĢżIn light of Holy Week, it is fitting to reflect on redemption.

In a Christian context, redemption is the process of making all things new (Rev 21:5). It is the story arch of the Bible from beginning to end ā€“ a loving God come to rescue his people through substitutionary sacrifice, which freely offers a perfect righteous record and restores the relational unity for which we were made.

I recognize people find thisĢżeither offensive or comforting. It is an inexorable matter to behold.

Regardless of belief, the concept of redemption is strongly linked to healing. For naturopathic doctors who consider the whole person, it is difficult to avoid. Everyone knows brokenness of body, mind and spirit, and longs for whole-being healing, whether they realize it or not.

As we experience life, we inevitably acquire wounds by not being cherished or nurtured by parents, not receiving appropriate discipline or boundaries, or being directly abused or rejected.

The resulting beliefs of these wounds are many: no one could understand, if I trust I will be hurt, or I am unlovable, incompetent or unworthy. Often, we are not fully aware of these beliefs, nor the ensuing walls of self-reliance we build around them.

We eventually arrive at a doctorā€™s office for a mental-emotional breakdown or physical malady.

But the whole-being healing for which we yearn cannot come from therapy. Medicine can heal bones, back pain and depression, but it can never cure our deepest level of hurt: our inner sense of inadequacy.

Defeating the roots of evil and their poisonous effects in our lives comes only through one source.

As Pope Benedict XVI said, ā€œWhoever wishes to heal man must see him in his wholeness and must know that his ultimate healing can only be Godā€™s love.ā€

To an ND student studying how to heal, this claim is indeed both offensive and comforting.

It is offensive because nothing I am studying could heal my patients at their deepest level. The best adjustment or acupuncture will not keep someone from knowing the deteriorating effects of living in a broken world and eventually, from sickness and death itself.

On the other hand, it is absolutely liberating. True healing at the deepest layer is not in my power, whether for myself or another. It comes from above and has been finished (John 19:30).

Through the substitutionary sacrifice of the cross ā€“ the greatest act of redeeming love ā€“ we have freely available to us the whole-being, everlasting healing for which our souls yearn. In the meantime, suffering becomes meaningful because our light and momentary afflictions prepare for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Cor 4:17).

It is a hope-filled narrative that expands on the naturopathic message of healing. Redemption goes beyond maximizing wellness. It reaches into the depths of our hearts to restore the most central element to our human nature: our relationship with our Creator.

As billions of people commemorate this week, may we consider the invitation.

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ĢżĢż at every gift you send,

ĢżĢżĢżĢżĢż at blessingsĢżwithout number

ĢżĢżĢżĢżĢżĢżĢżĢż and mercies without end.ā€

– O God Beyond All Praising, Michael Perry

Today I reflect on fellowship. My family and I will be moving in May. As we approach the transition, I am appreciative for community. Aside from my husband, my church family has been my most constant influence during our three-year chapter in Illinois.

It is first a reminder that consistency is the best path to lasting relationships. It is next a reminder of our need for connection.

As I sit around dinner tables, discussing and laughing, my heart has swelled in awe at the people who have taken us into their homes and invested in us solely for the sake of doing so. It touches my heart.

In touching my heart, I am confident it has also protected my health. There are many times I find myself lying in bed, feeling depressed, that I mobilize for a meal, choir practice, or small group, and leave renewed and inspired.

For me, receiving fellowship is far more potent than the modalities we learn in school.

I used to cross paths with the Framingham heart study in a past job. It is a cohort study conducted by Harvard that found the best predictor of longevity ā€“ above cholesterol levels, blood pressure, smoking, physical activity or access to health care ā€“ is strong social ties.

The largest research study from the leading allopathic medical institution found the most effective medicine is relationship. Interesting.

I donā€™t think millions of dollars are needed to reach this conclusion. Lived experience renders it common sense. Who doesnā€™t feel healthier in the presence of good friends?

It is something I know with my head and have recently had the opportunity to know with my heart as well.

What joy! I am humbled to realize the community that has formed, slowly but surely over the course of three years, and cherish it dearly.

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Recently I have been aware of the role of truth telling in patient care. The truth heals, but it is uncomfortable, which is why we go to great lengths to avoid it.

Truth often needs to be revealed to us by someone else. This is why having long-term, loving and challenging relationships is a critical part of maturation.

My husband does this for me when we share a ā€˜compliment and critiqueā€™ in the evenings. It is a great gift, even though it is often very painful.

Sometimes this gift is not given to us, or we repeatedly reject truth. For these times, we eventually end up sick or at a doctor.

In aĢżnaturopathic clinic, patients present with issues of headaches, GI upset or ā€˜stress.ā€™ Within a short time, it becomes apparent that their issues are actually shame, guilt, loneliness or long-suppressed disappointment, all stemming from a lack of truth.

Per Sigmund Freud, ā€œbeing entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise.ā€ I believe this ā€˜good exerciseā€™ can have a larger impact than any naturopathic modality I offer.

To demonstrate this, I intended to relay a recent patient encounter. Unfortunately, as I did, I realized it might violate the confidentiality laws to which I am bound.

Since legal fees are burdensome, I will instead use the time to turn the painful eye inward and reflect on the areas of my life in which I am not facing the truth.

I can attest as a friend, wife, neighbor and (especially for a) future doctor, that it is critical to heed the famous instruction of Matthew 7:5, and understand that IĢżam the hypocrite referred to who must ā€œfirst take the log out of your own eye; and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brotherā€™s eye.ā€

To that regard, and as a call to adventure, Jordan Peterson says it best: ā€œWhatever happens as a consequence of telling the truth is the best thing that can happen.ā€

What a fearsome proposition! Do you heed the call? I certainly donā€™t, but I desire to and aim to get closer daily.

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