我的童年記憶中，有一段特別鮮明的印象，關於我的家庭，也關於我的父親：那位眾人口中「很厲害的醫生」。

成長過程裡，我經常思索該如何超越父親。那時所謂的「超越」，多半與成就有關，更具體的說，是與財富實力相連的成就。

然而，在我35歲以後的十年間，那份童年的心願被命運徹底擊碎。當時，我曾無比清晰的對自己說過：「這輩子不可能在賺錢能力上超越父親。」

人生最深的谷底，是被自己最親近的人踐踏。曾愛我如命的母親，在我失意時，反而用語言羞辱我。在她眼裡，我一無是處。

她時常拿別人的成就來貶低我，這樣的教育方式，對多數孩子而言會摧毀自信，但我很幸運，它沒讓我倒下。

我從自己的故事中，領悟了「孝」的真意：我可以做到「孝」，卻無法同時做到「順」。我的內心曾吶喊：「媽，您總說別人多麼有成就，但我，真的不想跟他們比較！」

 

也許，當時的我只是單純的不服輸，不甘心命運的安排。命運，當然無法與原生家庭切割，但我也明白，最終的結果都是自己的選擇，怪不得別人。

踏入養生教育的第四年，我進入了禪修環境，開始學習用靈性的角度面對人生，無論喜或悲，成或敗，我都練習以正念觀看，進入人生最關鍵的轉折。

隔年，父親辭世。直到那時我才知道，父親名下的所有財產早已轉到弟弟名下。當這個消息從弟弟口中傳來，我內心異常平靜，只回他：「那很好。」

十二年過去了，如今回顧這一切，我滿懷感恩。深知這一切是母親的安排，與弟弟無關。母親的不給予，反而成了生命中最深遠的饋贈。

什麼都沒有，反而是美好的開始。當我真正領悟自己生命劇本的意義時，我抬頭看著天上的慈母，默默對她說：「謝謝妳，給了我一段沒有後路的餘生。」

這一切毫不刻意，卻又充滿命定。就在我領悟身體之道的那一刻，我也同時領受了無法推卸的責任。而這條路上的所有風景，都來自我那沒有後照鏡、只能向前的堅定腳步。

 

許多人稱我現在的工作為「使命」，但我知道，這是一份少有人願意承擔的志業。我樂於去做那些大眾看不懂、也不看好的事，甚至不惜成為被誤解、被責罵的對象。

區別養生與治療的關鍵，在於「教育」；對學員而言，則在於「學習」。但這份工作的難，不在於知識的傳授，而在於學員的態度。

要在這樣艱困的條件下做出成績，靠的是時間，如果能再多說一點，就是耐心。

若用革命的角度來看，距離真正成功還很遙遠。我唯一能分享的，是那推動我前行的力量，而那股力量，來自一種無法用語言描述的強大動機。

或許，我的父母正在天堂為我打氣，而他們此刻最慶幸的，正是當年沒有留下一毛錢給我。

事實上，他們給我的，已經太多太多。我所能做的，是把這份愛回饋到利他的地圖中，也在每一次磨難裡，用心體會生命所展現的種種提醒。

 

「後路」的真相，就呈現在我每天面對的每一位個案中。對大多數人而言，醫療就是最後的退路，當真走投無路時，至少還有這條。

為什麼學員不肯用心學習？因為他們心中，還有後路。為什麼人們對自己健康的照顧總是斷斷續續？因為，還有後路。

他們的眼神常常告訴我：「這條路不行，還有那條大家都走的路。」然而現實是：正是那條「大家都走的路」，阻礙了真正通往健康的路。

這就是「用心」與「用腦」的差異。如果你還保留一點「用腦」的空間，你就會替醫生的裁決保留位置。

也就是說，在努力的過程中，你其實還在偷偷允許自己「不需要太努力」。

這就像在清水裡混進墨汁，結果你就再也得不到清水，剩下的，只是黑墨。

 

如果你現在狀況很好，也很健康，請記住我對那滴黑墨的比喻：你若保留它，它就永遠存在，而且會改變你整體的存在。

就像是一鍋粥裡的一顆老鼠屎，污染的速度超出你想像。

你若繼續倚賴檢測數字，那些數字就會如影隨形的糾纏你。你若始終把名醫的神效掛在心中，那一天你就真的會需要它。

我曾在每日步行的過程中，突然覺悟，那彷彿是神明傳來的一則訊息：你可以完全捨棄那些依賴，甚至拒絕踏進醫院的大門。

不砍掉後路，你如何能義無反顧？

 

（你確定準備好了？因為一旦這條路走下去，就沒有回頭路了。）

 

No Way Back, and Thus the Way Forward

One of my most vivid childhood memories centers around my family—and especially my father, the man everyone called “a brilliant doctor.”

Throughout my upbringing, I often pondered how I might surpass my father. Back then, “surpassing” largely meant achieving more, and more specifically, accumulating greater wealth.

Yet, during the ten years after I turned thirty-five, that childhood ambition was completely shattered by fate. I once told myself, with painful clarity: “In this lifetime, I will never surpass my father in terms of earning power.”

The deepest valleys in life are often carved by those closest to us. My mother, who once loved me dearly, used words to shame me when I was down and out. In her eyes, I was a complete failure.

She often used the accomplishments of others to belittle me. For most children, that kind of parenting would destroy their confidence. But I consider myself fortunate—it didn’t break me.

From my own story, I’ve come to understand the true essence of filial piety: I can practice xiao (filial respect), but I cannot always be shun (obedient). Deep in my heart, I once cried out: “Mom, you always talk about how accomplished other people are, but I… I really don’t want to compare myself to them!”

Maybe, at the time, I was just stubborn, unwilling to submit to what fate had dealt me. Of course, fate can’t be separated from the family we’re born into—but I also know that the final outcome is always the result of our own choices. No one else can be blamed.

In the fourth year of my work in health education, I entered a meditation retreat and began learning to face life from a spiritual perspective. Whether joy or sorrow, success or failure, I practiced observing with mindfulness. That was the pivotal turning point of my life.

The following year, my father passed away. Only then did I learn that all the assets under his name had already been transferred to my younger brother. When this news came from my brother’s lips, I felt an unusual calm and simply replied, “That’s fine.”

Twelve years have passed. Looking back now, my heart is full of gratitude. I clearly see that it was my mother’s arrangement, and had nothing to do with my brother. Her withholding turned out to be the most profound gift of all.

To have nothing is, in fact, a beautiful beginning. When I finally understood the meaning of my life’s script, I looked up to the heavens and silently told my mother: “Thank you—for giving me a life with no escape route.”

None of it was calculated, yet it all felt destined. In the moment I awakened to the truth of the body, I also received an inescapable responsibility. And every scene along this path has come from the unwavering steps of someone with no rearview mirror—only a road forward.

Many people describe my current work as a “calling,” but I know—it is a mission that few would willingly take on. I’m happy to do the work that most people don’t understand, or don’t value, even if it means being misunderstood or criticized.

The fundamental distinction between health cultivation and medical treatment lies in education. And for learners, it lies in their willingness to learn. The real difficulty of this work is not in transferring knowledge—it’s in the learner’s attitude.

To create meaningful results under such harsh conditions, the only path is time—and if I could add anything more, it would be patience.

If viewed through a revolutionary lens, true success is still far off. The only thing I can share is the force that propels me forward—a force that cannot be put into words. A powerful inner drive.

Perhaps my parents are cheering me on from heaven, and perhaps what they’re most thankful for now is that they left me nothing.

In truth, they gave me far more than enough. All I can do is return that love by contributing to the map of altruism, and in every hardship, attentively receive the messages life is trying to send.

The truth about having “no way back” reveals itself in every individual I meet. For most people, medicine is the final fallback. When all else fails, at least they can turn to that.

Why don’t students truly commit to learning? Because they believe they still have a fallback. Why do people’s efforts to care for their health falter and stall? Because they think—they still have a fallback.

Their eyes often tell me: “If this doesn’t work, there’s always the path that everyone else is taking.” But the truth is: it’s precisely that well-trodden path that blocks the way to true health.

This is the difference between using the heart and using the mind. As long as you leave room for the mind’s rationalizations, you will always leave space for the doctor’s decisions.

Which is to say: even as you try, you’re still secretly allowing yourself not to try too hard.

It’s like mixing ink into clean water—once the ink is in, you’ll never get back clear water. All that remains is murky black.

If you’re currently doing well and feeling healthy, remember this metaphor about that single drop of ink: If you keep it, it will always be there, and it will change your entire state of being.

It’s like a single piece of rat feces in a pot of porridge—the contamination spreads faster than you can imagine.

If you continue to rely on test numbers, those numbers will cling to you like shadows. If you keep idolizing the miraculous cures of elite doctors, one day you will surely find yourself needing them.

One day, during a daily walk, I suddenly awoke to this realization—it felt like a message from the divine: You can abandon those dependencies completely. You can even refuse to step foot in a hospital ever again.

If you don’t cut off the way back, how can you truly move forward without looking back?