Whole Health Plan — Part 1
For weeks now I have been trying to formulate a whole health plan. I’ve attempted to assemble my whole health philosophy. I’ve done research, read books, prayed, listened to talks, and experimented on my body. I’m struggling. After all of the preparation, I can’t find it in my heart to write about the plentiful discoveries. Here’s my umbrella philosophy: take care of your brain, and take care of your soul. In order to take care of the brain, we need good nutrition and exercise. I am chock full of information on those topics. Now in order to care for the soul, much more is needed. The spirit needs to be saturated in life-giving acts, gestures, play, and song. I have a great deal of life-giving ammunition in my arsenal.
Here’s the problem: I am missing a core piece of my soul. My soul longs to be in the presence of the one I love. The one with whom I’m in love.
How am I supposed to live a long time if my soul is dying?
My loss of interest is rampant.
I understand how to take care of my body, let’s say my brain, and I do. I eat healthy fats galore, enough vegetables to grow out of my ears, sufficient protein per day, and little to no sugar. I even supplement with all the anti-inflammatory substances I can get my hands on. I exercise like crazy- running to see for miles and miles, shooting hoops, punching bags, enough push ups for ten people, and evening walks. Further, I’m doing the best I can to take care of my soul. I gorge myself on books, especially the bible. I spend time with people who care about me. I do puzzles to help me think, and I write in order to process my life happenings. I listen to music, and I make feeble attempts to play music as I learn simple songs like Kumbaya. I went to great lengths to immerse myself in nature this weekend- took time away from work, kayaked a flooded river, felt crystal clear cold water on my skin, received plenty of vitamin D from the sun, and shoved my hands in fresh soil at a local farm. I feel connected to my entire body, brain and soul.
I even engage with my favorite time of day- dusk. When I can see my favorite colors- electric blue, hazy pink, and burnt orange- surrounding the warm setting sun, its sharp rays remind me truth: God is Light and there’s no darkness in Him. I often feel far from darkness, and that I am walking in the light. But when I look at the clouds, it all changes. My soul is reminded of its dimness, which causes my body to ache. I look at the clouds, all the shades, all the detail, all the beauty, and I only wish I could see the details of your face again. Again and again and again. I miss that face. I try to see it in the clouds. I want that to be enough. I want to be so connected to the earth, and to the Spirit of God, that when I gaze into the clouds, it is as clear as looking into your eyes. It’s not. Your presence is irreplaceable.
So my soul constantly feels numb and in limbo. Waiting. My body aches. It breaks down. Not in an emotional breakdown type of way much, but in a deeper breakdown way. I don’t even know how to put a description to it. All I can do is wonder, even with an intimately crafted whole health plan, can my body actually live long? Because it certainly communicates that its dying due to the rift in my soul.
My hope is that my soul is numb and dim because it is waiting. It’s dormant, waiting to come back to life. That’s why I lie awake at night, to wait. Though I know my body needs and craves sleep. I am believing my soul knows better than my body, and it knows to endure even when my body breaks from the inside out. So I’ll keep treating my body with tender, love, and care. Because that’s exactly what the missing piece of my soul would do for me.
