“The Indigenous story tradition speaks of a past in which all beings spoke the same language and life lessons flowed among species. But we have forgotten—or been made to forget—how to listen so that all we hear is sound, emptied of its meaning. The soft sibilance of pine needles in the wind is an acoustic signature of pines. But this well-known “whispering of pines” is just a sound, it is not their voice. What if your listeners presumed you to be mute…..wouldn’t you dance your story in branch and root” Robin Wall Kimmerer
There is a foundational premise in Traditional Chinese Medicine known as Bi Zheng, or Bi syndrome, which offers a profound lens through which to understand a person’s vulnerability to pain. At its heart, it emphasizes our embeddedness within the web of life. The human body is not seen as a closed system but as a permeable entity deeply enmeshed in a wider ecology, affected by the changing rhythms of the weather, the land, and our relationships with family, friends, and community. Health, in this view, is inseparable from the quality of our exchanges with the world around us. It reveals the necessity of synchronizing with both our inner and outer environments, restoring balance and connection, and empowering us to shift the harmony within ourselves.
Through this lens, the body becomes a mirror, reflecting how its internal ecology might be misaligned with the outer landscape. Pain, contraction, loss of movement, or diminished vitality may be biological expressions of imbalance, pointing to a relational disharmony - whether with a loved one, our own emotional lives, the way we nourish ourselves, or our connection to the natural world. Symptoms, then, become signposts—calls for deeper intimacy with our own experience and with the wider living systems we are inextricably part of. In this sense, vitality and healing depend on our ability to bring conscious attention to physical or emotional ruptures, and to reconnect with the larger whole.
This perspective is central to a holistic understanding of health. It asks us to widen our awareness, not only to recognize the strength and dignity of a solitary tree, but to see the entire forest ecosystem: the plants and insects on the forest floor, the birds and squirrels among the branches, and the intricate underground networks of roots, fungi, and microbes that sustain and communicate between trees. All these elements, in reciprocal interplay, contribute to the vitality of the whole.
Suzanne Simard, a forest ecologist, writes that “there is conflict in a forest, but there is also negotiation, reciprocity, and perhaps even selflessness.” Her research reveals that trees understand their interdependence with other species (plants, fungi, microbes) and form intricate, cooperative networks. When one tree falls, others feel it. This teaches us that we, too, are woven into the living fabric of our environment. Communities, whether biological or social, thrive only when every element is recognized as essential. Diversity, far from being a weakness, is what fosters resilience and stability. In ecosystems, fragmentation compromises the health of the whole.
Similarly, in biology, it is now understood that viruses, which are part of the virome (the collection of all viruses in and on the body) play a role not just in disease, but in immune function, adaptation, and regeneration. Viruses are part of nature’s evolutionary fabric. And yet, as seen with COVID-19, the dominant response was to declare ‘war’ on the virus. This war-like framing, driven by a reductive medical lens, risks both “shooting the messenger” and obscuring insights that fall outside its narrow aperture. Microbiologist Zach Bush argues that the rise in viral endemics is largely due to the erosion of ecological balance—soil, air, and water systems under stress from industrial toxins and pollutants. These disruptions have placed pressure on both planetary and human ecosystems, compromising the body’s capacity for balance and healing.
This interconnected understanding is reflected in terrain theory, which holds that if the body and its environment are in balance, then microbes, including viruses, pose minimal threat. As Antoine Béchamp said, “Germs seek their natural habitat, diseased tissue, rather than being the cause of diseased tissue.” Traditional East Asian Medicine and many Indigenous healing systems align with this view. Within these paradigms, the health of the soil, air, water, food systems, and our reciprocal relationships with nature and community determine the vitality of individuals and societies. Polluted ecosystems, disconnected lifestyles, and diminished human connection all contribute to chronic illness and a weakened immune system.
This is not to dismiss germ theory entirely. Modern medicine plays a crucial role in protecting vulnerable populations when the immune system is compromised or pathogens are unusually virulent. But if we are to reduce the epidemics of our time, we must also examine root causes of imbalance. As writer Sophie Strand suggests, we must ask ourselves: How can we contribute to making good soil?
This question guides my own practice as an acupuncturist. I work to understand how relational imprints, nutritional and lifestyle habits, environmental factors, and genetic predispositions shape a person’s current health. Lasting well-being, I’ve found, depends not only on loving, accepting attention to the self, but also on nurturing supportive relationships and a conscious, respectful relationship with the living world, including the earth, oceans, air, trees, and animals. Healing arises when individuals feel empowered to restore a sense of meaning, safety, and connection in their own unique way, rather than through imposed, top-down solutions.
Recent public health mandates have often conflicted with this fundamental need for subjective experience to be honored. The reductionist approach, which can treat humans as passive objects, fails to account for the broader ecology of health and undermines the importance of bodily autonomy and human rights. Environmental degradation, chronic stress, and toxicity are not merely background issues, they are central to the imbalances creating the crises we now face. The ongoing pattern of colonization and destruction of natural systems has led to a loss of biodiversity and disconnection within ecosystems and among human communities alike. This paradigm fosters division, dehumanization, and a diminished appreciation for both our immune intelligence and the interdependence of all life.
A truly holistic worldview recognizes that harmony arises when systemic questions are taken seriously, and when diverse perspectives and needs are welcomed. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the philosophy of yin and yang teaches that an overemphasis on one polarity can easily lead to its destabilizing opposite. The pandemic response, in many ways, exemplified this: a singular, siloed approach that justified undemocratic policies, political overreach, and censorship of dissenting views. Without the balancing presence of yin participation, collaboration, context, we’ve witnessed a deepening of division: vaccinated vs. unvaccinated, science vs. traditional wisdom, right vs. left. Social unrest, protests, and climate-driven disasters all speak to an ecosystem under pressure.
To restore balance, yin and yang must dance together. A driven, fast-paced lifestyle (yang) without rest, nourishment, or reflection (yin) leads to inflammation, burnout, and disease. Likewise, in the public sphere, a relational, integrative approach would temper extremism and help heal societal rifts. What we are witnessing now is the consequence of policies driven by narrow economic and political interests, which undermine social cohesion, suppress diversity of thought, and ignore the deeper ecology of health.
We stand at a crossroads: a moment of global reckoning. The pendulum swings toward a technocratic future where health decisions may be increasingly outsourced to political bodies and profit-driven industries, with little regard for personal agency or ecological consequence. Such a path is fundamentally at odds with the interconnected, regenerative systems that sustain life.
The challenge of our age is to develop deeper, more collaborative solutions: approaches rooted in relational thinking and ecological awareness. It is a call to slow down, to listen to nature, and to recognize that the health of our environment is inseparable from our own. This vision does not ‘other’ based on medical, racial, or religious difference. Instead, it calls us back to a shared humanity that values kindness, compassion, and respect, especially when fear urges us to divide or dehumanize. It asks us to become the change we long to see: to practice self-compassion, listen deeply to our needs, and extend that same care outward.
If we return to the wakeful, sensate knowledge found in the forest, to the grounded wisdom of branch and root, we might begin to remember how to live in balance once more. The forest teaches us about mutuality, interdependence, and quiet strength. In its dappled light and rich soil are lessons in slowness, sensitivity, and resilience. What might we hear if we truly listened?
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