在餐館裡用餐，望向四周，座無虛席。細看每一位食客的臉龐，幾乎無例外，人人都吃得心滿意足。

我們走進餐廳，多半懷抱著期待，沒有人是不想吃卻還硬著頭皮點餐的。因此，吃這件事，自帶一種正向的力量。

從這樣的觀察出發，我一向鼓勵人們練習斷食、減少餐次，乃至實行每日一餐的節制方式。而那一餐，理應成為你全然享受食物滋養的時刻，想吃什麼就吃什麼，毫無罪惡感的品味當下。

既然決定要吃，就盡情享受，不必在意熱量，也無需費心安排食物的進食順序。我們之所以減餐，不是為了壓抑，而是為了騰出更多時間，讓身體得以休息與修復。

斷食的初衷，從不是抗拒美食，而是體認有些事情比吃更重要，而這些更重要的事，也同樣值得被享受。

 

就像出國旅行的最後一晚，總覺得時光飛逝，但當你回憶起旅程中的種種，看看相機裡的精彩片段，你會發現，美好不只在當下，也在每一段回憶中。

帶領一群願意斷食的學員，他們未必「熱愛」斷食，卻明白那是必要的實踐，是對身體、對健康的誠懇回應。

當你深知結果會是美好的，自然會願意投入過程。這正是「以終為始」的精神，也是「延遲享樂」的智慧。

那種「雖辛苦卻甘之如飴」的感覺，像極了父親駕車帶著一家人出遊，即便長途駕駛令人疲憊，但看到家人開心、平安，內心自然充滿幸福。

那樣的畫面，我至今仍歷歷在目：兩個兒子在後座熟睡，妻子陪我聊著天，後來倦了也靜靜睡去。而我，專注開車的同時，也享受著這份無聲的幸福，那是一種責任，也是一種深刻的喜悅。

 

為什麼「為人付出」的感覺如此美好？我們無需刻意去尋找答案，因為這份真相，早已寫進靈性的地圖，也藏在造物主交付給我們的生命使命之中。

我經常面對長期被藥物荼毒的個案，明明健康的距離並不遠，卻像要翻山越嶺才能抵達，且沿路滿是波折。

許多人的身體早已被藥物複雜糾纏，最大的難關並非病，而是體內堆積的藥毒與心理的恐懼。

這些人的真正挑戰，往往是來自內在的心魔。他們不斷追問：「到底要多久才能康復？」，這個問題，其實連當初開藥的醫師都無法回答。對他們而言，真正的療癒之道，只有兩項資源：耐心與時間。

而事實上，耐心與時間往往是同一件事。他們必須透過不斷學習、反覆確認動機，才能延展出真正的耐心與毅力。

當一個人篤定自己走在療癒之路，便會以愉悅之心去實踐對身體有益的每一件事。

療癒，為何不能成為一種享受？答案是：因為害怕，因為不信任，因為缺乏勇氣。許多病人被藥物長年凌遲，導致信心潰散，看不見療癒近在眼前的真相。

 

不管是血糖、血壓、體重還是體脂，若失去自信，便會陷入過度量測與焦慮的循環。越在意數值，就越頻繁檢測，結果反而讓心情每況愈下，自信更接近崩潰。

檢查在社會中被視為「正向訊息」，但在我觀察的許多不健康個案中，卻常見檢查帶來的，是更加脆弱的心理狀態。

「不認識自己，所以憂鬱；不認識身體，所以焦慮。」這是我對生病本質最切中要害的詮釋。幾乎所有病症，都可在這兩句話中找到根源的延伸。

養生的體悟，永遠寫不完。但請別忘了，最根本的起點是：你是否願意與自己好好相處？只要學會和自己在一起，許多負面情緒自會煙消雲散。

「有身皆苦」，是一種經驗，也是一種智慧。當你與身體合作、與自己和解，生命的圖像將隨之翻轉，終將走入一段真正值得享受的人生。

然而，我們常常甘心把自己推入死胡同：太忙、太累、不睡、過勞、過度依賴醫療，然後一頭交給醫師收拾殘局。

 

當我問出那句「健康，憑什麼？」，我的思考不只為了復甦身體意識，更是為了覺醒自我。

持續追問「自己在哪裡？」，健康，不只是身體的責任，也包括每個人對生命的承擔。

如果無法與自己好好相處，怎麼談得上享受人生？如果沒有心中美好的願景，怎麼支撐過程中的艱難與磨練？

健康，是不變的目標，該做的都清楚了，那就勇敢去做。

先享受路上的風景，然後，才能真正欣賞目的地的壯麗。

 

（你的價值，不在於你做了什麼，也不在於你認識誰，而在於你是誰。）

 

Only by Enjoying the Process Can You Truly Enjoy the Result

Dine at any busy restaurant, and you’ll notice the same scene: every table is full, and almost without exception, the faces around you reflect satisfaction and delight.
We enter restaurants with a sense of anticipation. No one sits down to order a meal if they don’t truly want to eat. In this sense, eating naturally carries a kind of positive energy.

From this simple observation, I often encourage people to practice intermittent fasting, to reduce meal frequency—even down to one meal a day. And that one meal should be thoroughly savored, wholeheartedly enjoyed. Eat what you love, without guilt. Taste every bite as nourishment for both body and spirit.

If you’ve chosen to eat, then eat with joy. Don’t count calories. Don’t overthink the order in which foods should be consumed. The purpose of eating less is not about suppression, but about creating more space and time for the body to rest and repair.

Fasting isn’t a rejection of food—it’s a recognition that some things are more important than eating. And those things, too, are meant to be enjoyed.

It’s like the final night of a trip abroad: the time feels fleeting, but when you revisit the moments—look back at the photos, recall the experiences—you realize that the joy wasn’t just in the destination, but in every step along the way.

I’ve guided many people through fasting. They may not “love” fasting, but they understand it’s a necessary practice—an earnest response to the needs of their body and health.
When you clearly believe that the outcome will be beautiful, you begin to enjoy the journey. This is the essence of beginning with the end in mind, the meaning of delayed gratification.

That feeling of sweet hardship is much like a father driving his family on a long trip: though the drive is tiring, his heart is filled with quiet joy.
That scene remains vivid for me: two sons asleep in the backseat, my wife chatting beside me until she dozed off. I focused on the road, but deep inside, I was savoring the silent happiness of that moment—a mix of responsibility and fulfillment.

Why does serving others feel so deeply satisfying? There’s no need to search for an answer. The truth is already written into the map of the soul, embedded in the life-purpose the Creator has entrusted to each of us.

I often work with patients who’ve been damaged by decades of medication. The path to health, though seemingly near, feels like a journey through mountains and storms. Their bodies are often entangled in complex drug interactions. The biggest obstacle isn’t illness itself, but the toxic residues and psychological fear left behind.

Their true challenge comes from within. They constantly ask: “How long will it take to recover?”—a question that even the prescribing doctors cannot answer.
For these individuals, the only healing tools left are patience and time. And in truth, patience is time.

They must continuously reaffirm their motivations through learning and self-reflection, to gradually build the stamina needed for real healing.
When someone is certain they are on the path of recovery, they begin to treat every positive action for the body with joy, not dread.

Why can’t healing be a form of enjoyment? It can—unless fear takes over. Unless trust is lost. Unless courage is lacking.
Many patients, worn down by years of medication, have had their confidence shattered. They can no longer see how close healing actually is.

Whether it’s blood sugar, blood pressure, weight, or body fat—those who lack confidence tend to fall into the trap of constant measurement and anxious monitoring.
The more they measure, the more anxious they become. And eventually, the constant checking begins to erode their mental well-being.

Society treats medical checkups as “positive information,” but in many unhealthy individuals I’ve observed, such habits often intensify psychological vulnerability.

“Not knowing oneself leads to depression; not understanding the body leads to anxiety.”
This is, in my view, the sharpest interpretation of the root of illness. Nearly all forms of suffering trace back to these two truths.

The journey of wellness holds endless lessons—but don’t forget its most essential foundation:
Are you willing to be with yourself?
Once you learn how to stay connected to your own presence, many negative emotions begin to fade away on their own.

“To have a body is to suffer”—this isn’t just a concept, it’s a lived experience. Yet when we learn to collaborate with the body and make peace with ourselves, the entire picture of life begins to shift.
Eventually, life becomes a path of genuine enjoyment.

Unfortunately, many people throw themselves into dead ends: they stay busy, sleep poorly, overwork, and rely too heavily on medicine—handing over their lives for doctors to repair.

When I first asked, “What gives us the right to be healthy?”, I realized my inquiry wasn’t just about reviving body awareness—it was about awakening the self.
As I continued to reflect on “Where am I in all this?”, it became clear that health isn’t solely the body’s responsibility—it’s also a matter of personal commitment to life itself.

If we cannot be with ourselves, how can we talk about enjoying life?
If we don’t carry a beautiful vision in our hearts, how can we endure the hardships of the journey?

Health is the unchanging goal. Once you’re clear on what needs to be done, just go ahead and do it—with courage.

First, enjoy the scenery along the road.
Then, you’ll be ready to truly appreciate the beauty of the destination.