My Most Profound Learnings of 2024

Healing is rarely straightforward. It’s not a quick fix, a magic pill, or a single solution. It’s a journey—a cyclical, messy, beautiful unfolding that requires patience, courage, and the willingness to face discomfort.

These Are The Revelations That Have Shaped Me…

The modern medical system operates within a capitalist framework, where efficiency, profit, and scalability often take precedence over genuine well-being. Hospitals are overwhelmed, resources are stretched thin, and practitioners are burned out. Patients are reduced to symptoms, each treated in isolation. We are prescribed one pill at a time, often leading to another pill to address the side effects of the first.

Meanwhile, the pace of life accelerates. We are disconnected from the rhythms of nature, from each other, and from ourselves. Many people feel trapped in a “treadmill of stress,” surviving rather than thriving. The capitalist system that shapes our healthcare mirrors the fragmentation and isolation we experience in our daily lives. Healing becomes a luxury, something you can access only if you have time, money, and the privilege of stepping off the treadmill.

This isn’t to dismiss the real achievements of modern medicine. Antibiotics save lives. Emergency surgeries can be miraculous. Vaccines have eradicated diseases that once ravaged entire populations. But the question remains: have we mistaken management for healing? Have we created a system that sustains itself by keeping us unwell, by perpetuating the conditions that require endless pills, appointments, and procedures?

Healing is not a straight path; it is cyclical, unpredictable, and deeply personal. It requires us to face discomfort, uncertainty, and even pain. But in doing so, it offers something far greater than a quick fix: the opportunity for profound transformation, for a reconnection to ourselves and the rhythms of life.

It is a journey, one that unfolds over time, requiring patience, curiosity, and resilience. It demands that we listen—truly listen—to our bodies and the wisdom they hold. It calls for us to move beyond symptom suppression and ask deeper questions: Why has this dis-ease arisen? What is it trying to communicate? How can I support my body in its natural process of repair and renewal?

Healing is not linear, nor is it always easy. It is a process often shaped by paradoxes, contrasts, and challenges that invite us to grow, evolve, and transform. But this raises a profound question: must we suffer to heal? Is struggle a necessary ingredient for growth, or could it be that suffering simply serves as one path among many, teaching us in ways that comfort and ease cannot?

Contrast acts as a powerful teacher in life. It sharpens our awareness, bringing into focus what might otherwise remain hidden in the mundane flow of existence. For instance, someone living in constant comfort may never pause to reflect on their deeper emotions or needs until life delivers a challenge that disrupts their sense of stability. It is often in moments of contrast—when comfort turns to discomfort, joy to grief, or ease to struggle—that we begin to ask the deeper questions, uncovering truths that might have stayed buried.

It is worth considering that the challenges we face, while unwelcome, might also be the very experiences that bring depth, meaning, and texture to our lives.

Nature, too, is a mirror of contrast and transformation. Forests burn, releasing seeds that can only germinate in the heat of a fire. Winter brings stillness and apparent death, yet beneath the frozen soil lies the potential for spring's renewal. Predators hunt prey in a dance that sustains ecosystems, balancing life and death. These cycles of destruction and creation, of shadow and light, are essential to the natural world’s rhythm.

Yet, is this suffering? Or are we projecting our own fears and struggles onto nature’s processes? The lion does not mourn the gazelle, and the decaying tree does not resist its return to the earth. Nature accepts these contrasts not as tragedies but as integral to life’s unfolding. If we step back and view suffering through this lens, we might see it less as a punishment or failure and more as a necessary part of growth and renewal.

This reframe invites us to consider whether our own suffering, too, might hold lessons. When illness forces us to slow down, when grief makes us reflect on what truly matters, when challenges stretch our understanding of what we can endure—are these not moments of profound growth? Healing is rarely about returning to who we were before. Instead, it is a journey of becoming someone new, someone forged by contrast and illuminated by shadow.

Clinics now commonly operate as larger, multi-doctor enterprises, with up to ten practitioners working on the same floor and specialists, pathologists, and other healthcare services scattered across adjacent spaces. For my generation, it’s still possible to build a connection with a single doctor over time, but for the next generation—who often see whoever is available—it’s becoming increasingly rare. With the emphasis on efficiency, convenience, and throughput, the intimacy and familiarity of the doctor-patient relationship are often lost.

The problem with not seeing the same doctor consistently is more than just the inconvenience of repeating your medical history. It’s about the erosion of trust and the inability to nurture the kind of deep understanding that allows practitioners to see the bigger picture. When a patient has to start over with every appointment, sharing their story again and again, crucial nuances can be missed. The comfort and confidence that come with being able to speak openly and honestly about symptoms, lifestyle, and concerns are diminished. For many, this creates a barrier to full disclosure, especially about sensitive or complex health issues.

What does it mean to be an old-fashioned doctor? It’s not just about medical knowledge; it’s about the relationships they cultivate. It’s about knowing their patients deeply—not just as individuals but as members of a family and a community. It’s about remembering details not because they’re written on a chart but because they’ve been shared in countless conversations over years. This kind of doctor doesn’t treat symptoms in isolation; they treat people. They connect dots that others might miss because they’ve been paying attention all along.

Specialisation has undoubtedly brought incredible advancements to healthcare, allowing doctors to develop deep expertise in specific fields. However, the rise of over-specialisation has led to a breakdown in holistic care. When patients are passed from one specialist to another, with no single doctor overseeing their overall health, care becomes fragmented, and patients feel like they are in a “relay race,” being shuffled between consultants.

Hyper-specialisation marginalises general practitioners and family doctors, who traditionally provided comprehensive, integrated care. Generalists are essential in ensuring that a patient's health is seen as a cohesive whole, rather than as a set of isolated systems. However, modern healthcare often sidelines these practitioners in favour of specialists, leaving patients without the continuity of care that generalists provide.

A patient with overlapping conditions—such as heart disease, diabetes, and depression—may see a cardiologist, endocrinologist, and psychiatrist, each of whom treats their specific area. Without a generalist to oversee their care, the patient may receive conflicting advice or treatments that fail to address the interplay between these conditions.

Many patients tend to prioritise spirituality last, viewing it as separate from their overall health. In a results-driven world, spirituality may seem optional, yet it provides insight into resilience and purpose. For those who don’t connect with traditional spiritual ideas, this concept can serve as a metaphor for connecting with your inner self, finding fulfillment, and embracing values-driven meaning in daily life. Holistic healing respects diverse beliefs, offering paths for self-discovery through mindfulness, personal values, and meaningful connections.

Instead of seeing spirit as a connection to the transcendent, you might view it as connecting with yourself, others, or the world. Similarly, consider the soul not as an eternal essence but as layers of your personality, holding your values, emotions, and purpose. This approach shifts the journey from spiritual questing to a grounded exploration of self-awareness and authenticity.

Meaning can emerge from relationships, achievements, creativity, or mindful living, even without religious or spiritual beliefs. Practices like meditation or spending time in nature foster mental clarity, emotional balance, and a deep self-connection, supporting healing without requiring spiritual labels.

The relationship between a patient and their healthcare provider is a pivotal element in the healing process. When this connection is strong, rooted in trust and mutual respect, it fosters an environment conducive to recovery. However, when this relationship becomes strained or impersonal, it can act as a significant barrier to effective treatment and holistic healing.

In today's fast-paced medical landscape, many patients report feeling like passive recipients of care rather than active participants in their own healing journey. The current emphasis on efficiency and quick diagnostic processes often leaves little room for meaningful conversation. Appointments can feel rushed, dominated by clinical tests rather than understanding the person behind the symptoms. This leaves patients feeling "processed" through a system that may overlook their unique emotional, mental, and lifestyle factors.

This shift from relational, empathetic care—once considered the cornerstone of medical practice—towards a more transactional, symptom-driven approach has led to a disconnect. Patients often feel like they are not truly seen or heard as individuals. The "art of doctoring," which emphasised empathy and genuine human connection, has been overshadowed by a procedural approach where the practitioner focuses more on data points than on the person in front of them.

Self-criticism is a form of inner violence. It chips away at our self-worth, creating cracks in the foundation of our health. When we berate or judge ourselves harshly, we turn our energy inward in a destructive way, preventing the body from aligning with the energy of healing. Chronic self-criticism often leads to feelings of inadequacy, frustration, and shame, further exacerbating stress and blocking progress.

From a holistic perspective, the mind and body are deeply interconnected. When the mind is weighed down by negative self-judgment, the body responds accordingly. Chronic stress, increased cortisol levels, and inflammation are often the physiological outcomes of sustained self-criticism. It’s as though the body mirrors the hostility of the mind, reflecting it in physical symptoms, whether they be digestive issues, autoimmune conditions, or chronic fatigue.

Losing reverence for oneself and adopting a stance of relentless self-criticism doesn’t just delay healing—it actively hinders it. Healing requires a gentle, compassionate internal space, where the body feels safe to repair and restore itself. Without this, the body's natural healing mechanisms remain obstructed.

Self-compassion is often misunderstood as self-indulgence or weakness, but it is quite the opposite. It is the most fundamental act of self-respect. To treat oneself with compassion, particularly in moments of difficulty or failure, is to create a nurturing space within where healing can take root. When we cultivate self-compassion, we aren’t making excuses for ourselves; rather, we’re recognising our shared humanity—the fact that, like all others, we experience suffering, imperfection, and limitation.

In many ways, self-compassion can be viewed as the soil in which all healing grows. It allows us to approach ourselves, not from a place of judgment or harshness, but with the same kindness and care that we would extend to a close friend. From this place of gentleness, the body and mind can begin to release the tension and resistance that often accompany illness or imbalance.

Holistic healing acknowledges the power of kindness. Kindness toward oneself signals to the body that it is safe, that it can relax, that it can heal. Without this foundation of compassion, any efforts toward health—whether they be dietary changes, exercise, or therapy—are diminished in their effectiveness. True healing requires the soft, nurturing space that self-compassion provide

When we consider the path to healing or transformation, the natural instinct often involves removing what no longer serves us. We think of healing as "weeding out" the toxins, traumas, or barriers that inhibit growth. Yet, what if healing wasn’t always about elimination? What if it was about adding in, about creating the conditions for what is innate and resilient within us to rise and thrive—composting the old rather than discarding it entirely?

This is not a rejection of removal; there is value in discernment, in understanding what habits, beliefs, or patterns no longer belong in our lives. But focusing solely on subtraction can leave a vacuum, a barren landscape where growth becomes stunted because it lacks the nutrients to flourish. True healing, like a regenerative ecosystem, is a process of layering—where the decayed remnants of the past nourish the fertile ground of what’s to come.

Healing, then, becomes less about fixing and more about tending. It is the act of cultivating the soil of our lives so that what is true and strong can emerge. It is about allowing what is no longer useful to decay naturally, trusting that it will serve as nourishment for something new. This is not a passive process; it requires intention and care. It asks us to be gardeners of our own well-being, to recognise that the process of composting—the breaking down of old beliefs, habits, and experiences—can feel messy and uncomfortable. But in that mess, there is fertility.

“As the year draws to a close, I’ve been reflecting on Søren Kierkegaard’s famous quote: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” It’s a simple truth, yet it perfectly captures how I’ve been feeling lately—reflecting on this year’s lessons while continuing to move toward what lies ahead….” Read on here.