試著想像，你坐在某間大型醫院的門診大廳，現場聚集上百位病患與陪同家屬。那股彌漫於空氣中的氛圍，不只是沉重與焦慮，更是由現場所有人的心理狀態共同編織而成的壓力場。

沒有人願意坐在這樣的空間裡，無論是候診者還是陪同者，大家都處於一種不得已的狀態。

我們真的非得把身體推向「必須接受治療」的處境嗎？這不能是一個單純的邏輯問題，因為「不一定」的答案在現實生活中幾乎不存在。以我們的生活樣貌分析，答案是「一定」。

我們確實虧待了自己的身體，對它毫無敬意與善意。如果疾病總是突如其來，如果總是出現得讓人措手不及，那麼，我們的日常細節必然存在警訊與偏差。

醫院成為現代人「養生的終點站」，並不讓人意外。那是人類遠離自然法則、背離身體智慧的必然結果。

我同意：人生無法保證不會生病。然而，我們可以做得更好，至少，可以努力掙脫那條被社會默許的「醫療輸送帶」。

 

觀察疾病，始終是我生命的一部分，不是刻意選擇，而是命運安排我一路目睹。從成長過程到大學、服役階段，再到職場歷練，直至父母年邁、出入醫院，我逐漸深入理解「醫」與「病」之間那層錯綜複雜的關係。

如果我單從醫療的視角來思考疾病，我的認知將被框限在醫學系統所設下的邊界內，那就無法看見生病發生前的所有蛛絲馬跡。也就等於，我仍被導向一條「被動接受治療」的道路。

你感受到了嗎？那個醫療空間裡的磁場，早已滲入我們的日常。即使某些人不打算踏進醫院，潛意識裡仍舊渴望一種「快速解除病痛」的解方。

我們說自己重視養生，實際上卻重視養醫生。

醫師的正面形象，是醫院空間裡唯一散發的「正能量」；在病人與家屬心中，代表康復的希望與重獲健康的期待。

然而，我們心知肚明，現實並非如此。醫療的安全感，掩蓋不了它背後以恐懼為基底的氛圍。那不是真正的正向磁場，而是一種心理上的依附與逃避。

 

治療，其實是一種心理與社會的狀態：一方求助，一方施援。當人被困在這個框架裡，便難以看清問題的本質。

就像一群人在河邊遊玩，突然遇到暴漲洪水；就像幾位登山客在颱風前深入山區，當災難降臨，我們只能先救人，再究責。

我們應該從一開始就思考：「這種意外可以避免嗎？」

我選擇從「究責」的方向看待這一切，不是為了責怪任何人，而是因為我能同理身體的立場，知道事情絕對可以不必走到這般境地。

「預防勝於治療」這句話人人耳熟能詳，卻早已流於口號。大眾聚焦於治療的效果，卻忽略了什麼叫預防，更遑論如何落實。

隨著檢查技術與治療手段不斷進步，我們反而愈來愈不願意回頭傾聽自己身體的聲音。在醫療科技日益發達的時代，身體的自癒力被忽視、被遺忘。

如果真要談責任，對身體缺乏認識的責任，的確應由個人承擔。然而，從我自身長期浸染在醫療體制的經驗來看，問題的源頭早已偏離正軌。當醫療與商業利益掛勾，當社會教育的準心被偏離，人民的無知是被設計出來的。

 

只要我們繼續站在醫療的立場看待身體，就永遠無法理解身體的世界。醫療的「城堡」築起一堵隔絕人體智慧的高牆，兩造之間，如同辯論場上各持立場的兩方，根本不可能交集。

除非出現一位願意居中協調的長者，能夠尊重醫療與人體雙方的立場，並促進對話。我很幸運認識幾位這樣的醫師，他們不只是醫生，也曾是病人，願意以人體的視角反思醫療體系的盲點。

史蒂芬・柯維的大作《第三選擇》，提供了我重要的思維轉折。我逐步經歷了這樣的視角轉換：先是深入人體、理解身體的智慧，再看見醫療體制的運作與侷限，最終，站上第三者的教育立場，將這段過程轉化為他人的學習路徑。

治療若被醫療獨占，便會形成一種過度主觀的單一立場，不但忽視了身體的聲音，也抹煞了第三方視角的可能性。

如今的大環境令人憂心，因為在「治療優先」的意識形態底下，真正的養生價值正逐漸被掏空。我們高喊養生，卻以治療為王道，這種顛倒的價值觀，已成為主流。

 

「救人」本應是一種正面的行動，然而，當事件的本質根本不該發生，社會所承擔的代價與成本，便無法估計。

我們面對的不是偶發事件，而是每天大規模上演的「救援行動」。

當醫療資源持續被大量耗費，我們該問的是：這背後究竟是哪個價值排序出了錯？

治療本來該是最後一線，而非生活主軸。醫療的過度介入，正如極端氣候般，是人類偏離自然的集體代價。

大環境也許難以逆轉，但我們個人的生命仍有轉機，關鍵只在於：你什麼時候願意覺醒，並做出改變。

當你願意讓身體作主，治療便不再是壓力與恐懼，而是一種正向而持續的身體智慧。

因為真正的治療，從來都不需要開立處方，而是源自於你與身體之間，真誠、持久的對話。

 

（療癒的藝術來自自然，而非醫師。因此，醫師必須從自然出發，懷抱開放的心態。）

 

Treatment as a Form of Negative Consciousness

Imagine yourself sitting in the outpatient lobby of a large hospital, surrounded by hundreds of patients and their accompanying family members. The air is heavy—not just with anxiety, but with an invisible field of tension woven from the collective mental states of everyone present.
No one wants to be in that space. Whether you’re a patient or a companion, you’re there because you have no other choice.

But must we really push our bodies into a state where “treatment becomes necessary”? This isn’t a question of logic, because the answer “not necessarily” holds little relevance in real life. Judging by how we live, the answer is: inevitably, yes.
We have indeed mistreated our bodies—with neither reverence nor kindness. If illness always seems to strike suddenly and without warning, then something in our everyday patterns must have long been out of balance, quietly sounding alarms that went unheard.

That hospitals have become the “final destination for wellness” in modern life is hardly surprising. It’s the natural consequence of humanity straying from nature’s laws and abandoning the innate wisdom of the body.
I agree: no one can guarantee a life free of illness. But surely, we can do better. At the very least, we can strive to break free from the socially sanctioned conveyor belt of medical dependency.

Observing illness has always been part of my life—not by choice, but as a fate I was meant to witness. From childhood through university, military service, and into my professional life, and finally through the aging of my parents and their frequent hospital visits, I’ve come to deeply understand the complex, tangled relationship between “medicine” and “disease.”
If I were to consider illness only from the perspective of medicine, my understanding would be confined within the boundaries defined by the medical system. I would miss every sign and signal that precedes the onset of disease. And in doing so, I would remain on the path of passive treatment.

Can you feel it? That magnetic field from the medical space has already seeped into our daily lives. Even those who avoid hospitals often harbor an unconscious hope for a quick fix, a miracle cure to relieve their pain.
We say we value health, but in truth, we value doctors.
The physician’s positive image is the only “positive energy” radiating from within the hospital. For patients and families, doctors embody hope, the promise of recovery and health regained.

But deep down, we know that’s not the full story. The security blanket of modern medicine cannot hide the fear-based atmosphere that underlies it. What we experience is not a truly positive field, but a psychological dependency—a form of subtle avoidance.

Treatment is not merely a biological or clinical process—it’s a psychological and social condition: one party seeks help, the other offers aid. Once trapped in this framework, it becomes almost impossible to see the root of the problem.
It’s like a group of people playing by the river when a flash flood strikes; or a group of hikers caught deep in the mountains just before a typhoon. When disaster hits, all we can do is rescue first, ask questions later.
But the question we should have asked from the beginning is: Could this have been prevented?

I choose to look at all this from a position of accountability—not to blame anyone, but because I can empathize with the body’s perspective. I know things didn’t have to get this far.
The saying “prevention is better than cure” is familiar to everyone, yet it has long since become an empty slogan. Society fixates on the effectiveness of treatments while completely neglecting what prevention actually means, let alone how to implement it.

As diagnostic technology and treatment options improve, we’ve ironically grown more reluctant to listen to our own bodies. In this age of advanced medicine, the body’s innate healing ability has been ignored, even forgotten.
If we must speak of responsibility, then yes, the individual bears responsibility for failing to understand their own body. But from my experience immersed in the medical system, I can tell you: the problem started long before that.
When medicine became entangled with commercial interests, and when public education lost its moral compass, ignorance was no longer accidental—it was manufactured.

As long as we continue viewing the body through the lens of medicine, we will never truly understand it.
The medical “fortress” has built a towering wall, severing us from the wisdom of the human body. The two sides—medicine and body—have become like opponents in a debate, each entrenched in their own position, never to intersect.

Unless, of course, a mediator appears—someone who respects both perspectives, and facilitates genuine dialogue.
I’ve been fortunate to meet a few such doctors. They are not just physicians, but also patients—people willing to reflect on the blind spots of medicine through the lens of the human body.

Stephen Covey’s The 3rd Alternative gave me a critical shift in thinking.
I underwent a gradual transformation in perspective: first diving deep into the human body and its wisdom; then learning to see the structure and limitations of the medical system; and finally, rising to a third-party role—as an educator—translating this journey into a learning path for others.

When treatment is monopolized by medicine, it becomes a singular and overly subjective standpoint. This not only silences the voice of the body but also eliminates the possibility of any third perspective.

What worries me most about the world today is that under the ideology of “treatment first,” the true value of preventive health is being hollowed out. We chant about wellness, but crown treatment as king. This inverted value system has become the mainstream.

“Saving lives” is, in essence, a noble act. But when the underlying event should never have occurred in the first place, the societal cost becomes immeasurable.
We’re not dealing with isolated incidents, but with a daily, large-scale “rescue operation.”

As medical resources continue to be massively consumed, the real question we should ask is: What value system has gone awry?
Treatment should be the last resort—not the center of our lifestyle.
Just like extreme climate events, the overreliance on medicine is a collective consequence of our departure from nature.

The world may be hard to change, but our individual lives still hold hope. The key is simple: When will you choose to awaken—and change?

When you’re willing to let the body lead, treatment no longer feels like pressure or fear. It becomes a form of enduring, embodied wisdom.
Because real healing has never required a prescription.
It begins with an honest, sustained conversation between you and your body.