To be intrigued by physical healing is to step, sooner or later, into philosophy. Remedies and protocols may change the body, but they cannot answer a deeper question: health for what? Without a sense of purpose, even healing becomes another activity — an attempt to feel better without knowing why. Our actions follow our understanding of life, and medicine is no exception.

Endow your will with such power

That at every turn of fate it so be

That God Himself asks of His slave

‘What is it that pleases thee?’

-Muhammad Iqbal

What We Believe Becomes How We Live

In the INTRODUCTION of the book Shikwa and Jawab-i-Shikwa, Iqbal’s Dialogue with Allah, Khushwant Singh makes the following observation:

“Scholars talk of Iqbal’s philosophy as if it were logically developed scheme of values. It is not. His earlier poems breathe a sense of disbelief in the world; like the Hindus he regarded it as an illusion (maya) and like them he spoke of the futility of striving. Three years in Europe (1905-1908) brought about a complete reversal in his beliefs. The world became real; life had a purpose to serve; latent in every man was a superman who could be roused to his full height by ceaseless striving to create a better world. This post-European phase has been designed as Iqbal’s philosophy of khudi. Khud, is self; khudi could be selfhood. Khud could be the ego; khudi, the super-ego. As used by Iqbal what comes closest to khudi is assertive will-power imbued with moral vales.”

-p. 15, Shikwa and Jawab-i-Shikwa, Iqbal’s Dialogue with Allah

To be intrigued by physical healing is to step, sooner or later, into philosophy. Remedies, diets, protocols, and techniques may alter the body, but they do not by themselves answer the deeper question: toward what end is health sought? Without an orientation to life, even healing can become another form of restless activity — an attempt to feel better without knowing what “better” is for. Our actions follow our understanding of existence; medicine, too, obeys metaphysics.

In the above mentioned verse, the poet imagines a will so aligned that even fate yields to it — a self whose desires arise not from whim but from purpose. His idea of khudi describes this awakened selfhood: an inner authority strengthened by values and directed toward meaningful action. Such a self does not drift. It chooses.

Illness, however, weakens this capacity. Pain, fatigue, and chronic stress narrow perception and push life into survival mode. One begins to make decisions for relief rather than for meaning. Even admirable pursuits — pleasing others, seeking approval, maintaining status — can become distractions if they do not serve one’s true direction. Energy scatters, and the sense of self thins.

A strong self emerges not from self-improvement alone but from alignment — orienting one’s life toward what one is genuinely here to do. This orientation is not purely intellectual; it is felt in the body as steadiness and vitality. When physiology is chaotic — sleep disturbed, nerves overstimulated, digestion impaired — that signal is drowned out. Distraction becomes biological, not just psychological.

Here is where plant medicine plays its quiet role. Rather than forcing change, traditional herbs regulate and restore. They steady the nervous system, support metabolism, reduce inflammation, and rebuild resilience. In doing so, they remove internal noise. What drains becomes clearer. What truly matters becomes easier to sustain. One can tolerate uncertainty, disapproval, or effort without collapsing back into old patterns.

Plant medicine, then, does not dictate a path — it supports the conditions in which a path can be recognized and followed. It helps gather scattered energy into direction. In Iqbal’s terms, it makes sustained striving possible by strengthening the organism that must carry it.

Health, in this light, is not merely the absence of disease but the restoration of vector — the capacity to move toward purpose rather than merely away from discomfort. When the body becomes stable and inhabitable again, the deeper self can act without distortion. Medicine has done its highest work not by making life easier, but by making it truer.