Dr. David Orman

Question: “If your body could write you a letter right now using the language of natural medicine — what do you think it would say? Herbs, energy systems, foods, feelings… nothing is off limits. Let’s talk healing.”

Answer: If my body could write me a letter through the lens of natural medicine, it might begin gently, like a whisper from the forest. “Dear one,” it would say, “I carry the story of your choices in my muscles, your thoughts in my breath, your history in my blood. You’ve often treated me like a machine, but I am not made of steel — I am made of rhythm, water, fire, and the unseen.” It would ask me to listen not with my ears, but with my pulse.

The letter would go on to say, “I crave balance, not perfection. I am soothed by adaptogens, not stimulants. I need rest as much as movement, silence as much as sound. Your liver longs for dandelion and milk thistle, not caffeine and worry. Your lungs miss the scent of pine and fresh air. Your joints ache not just from time, but from what you’ve suppressed. Let’s clear the inflammation with turmeric, laughter, and honest tears.”

It would remind me that healing is not a straight line. That the grief in my chest is just as important to treat as any lab result. That acupuncture opens hidden meridians the same way forgiveness opens the heart. “Your skin speaks your gut’s language,” it might write, “and your headaches are not random — they’re petitions for change.” It would ask me to eat with presence, to breathe with reverence, and to love this vessel like a sacred home.

And finally, it would say, “I am not against you. I am your oldest ally. But I am tired of shouting. Let us return to a gentler medicine — one of roots, rituals, movement, and moonlight. When you care for me naturally, I won’t just heal… I’ll awaken.”