The way we approach healing our ailments is, curiously, as compartmentalised as the rest of our existence. We focus squarely on symptoms, prescribing "cures" to alleviate them, while deftly avoiding the excavation of their true root causes. In doing so, we treat the mind, body, and spirit as separate disconnected entities - as though they are not interwoven parts of a greater whole.
Modern medicine is undeniably remarkable in addressing acute physical trauma - it excels in emergencies and life-saving interventions. However, holistic health operates on an entirely different plane - emphasising sustained wellness and the profound depths of true healing. For instance, in certain approaches within modern medicine, cancer is not defined as such until it crosses specific diagnostic thresholds. Yet, long before these markers are reached - at the pre-cancer stage, where holistic nuances come into play - a person's lifestyle, habits, and physical condition may already create fertile grounds for near-terminal cancer’s emergence, forming a landscape primed for illness, even if not yet "officially" labelled.
In East Asia, there is a private doctor whose reputation precedes them - a practitioner celebrated for their synthesis of ancient Eastern medicine refined through inherited ancestral wisdom, formal Western medical training, and Taoist intuitive healing. Their approach to health is profoundly holistic - addressing the intricate interplay of mind, body, and spirit. They examine how individuals fixate on repetitive concerns, how tension anchors itself into the body, and how blockages obstruct the body's natural flow. It is all interconnected. Our bodies, after all, are living archives - physical records of our lived experiences. They bear the imprints of not only the physical but also the mental and spiritual - manifesting unresolved conflicts, emotional traumas, and stifled energies as ailments over time.
Consider heartbreak - a striking example of this. The anguish of heartbreak is so potent, so all-consuming, that its physical manifestations are hard to ignore. For some, it may verge on a pseudo-psychosis, while others feel an almost visceral rotting feeling in their chest - accompanied by a sensation akin to an almost sour taste. Days blur into one another, resembling the strange timeless haze between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Now, magnify this experience - imagine the effects of severe repressed trauma or long-standing subtle damage - like a beaver building a dam, one stick at a time, until the flow of the river is obstructed entirely.
Why, then, do we not question this holistic connection more often? Is it because we have been conditioned not to, gaslit into believing that such thoughts mark us as "crazy" or unfit for societal acceptance? Consider, too, who benefits from this disconnection. Who profits from our fragmented understanding of health? An unsettling thought arises - are we no more than farmed animals, kept just healthy enough to work through the prime of life, only to be exploited for profit in our final years - as we cling desperately to life?
Food for thought.
The last lines critique is in line with a question I was asking myself yesterday which is "why is the field of psychology so obsessed with diagnosing the manifestations of ailments that plague the modern individual,focusing primarily on the individual but turn a blind eye to the sickness that plagues the collective,ignoring the malady of modern society?"