What Healing Really Means

Out of agony, I recently asked the statistical machines: “What does healing even mean?”

It's a simple question, yet one that deserves a simple answer.

The LLM answered:

Healing, in the context of the human body, refers to the natural process by which the body repairs and restores itself after injury, illness, or damage. It involves a complex interplay of biological mechanisms that work to mend tissues, fight infections, and regain normal function. Healing can occur at various levels—physical, cellular, and even psychological—and typically progresses through distinct stages depending on the type of injury or condition.

Though emotional and psychological states deeply affect this process, I for critical survival only want to care about what is purely the physical layer (should this even exist). At this level alone, healing demands something we too often forget to give: a true pause.

The body cannot heal when it's running. It cannot heal when it's eating, digesting, multitasking, producing. Occupied.

When you're sprinting through life—physically, hormonally, digestively — your body is in “factory mode.” Cells are busy replicating, dividing, managing metabolic loads, maintaining performance. There's little energy spared for fixing damages, for visiting the quiet places where healing needs to begin.

Of course one would need to set the context for the tissues to enter a complex choreography of cellular action. Here nutrition preceeds the healing. But nutrition alone does not heal.

Healing begins only when there is stillness. Stillness in activity. Stillness in ingestion, digestion, assimilation. Stillness in thought.

Your body needs this peace. Peace from incoming material, and peace from mental static—to take stock. It needs peace to sweep the corners, recycle old debris, repair the things it postponed four replication cycles ago, expell the unwanted, all because it used to focus on survival came first.

All considered, it's very intuitive. Yet rarely spoken. Healing requires active rest. Not just sleep, but an intentional reduction of demand. Quietness.

Should one not grant one's the body the time, it fall into a false healing management cycle: a state where symptoms are merely suppressed (drugs), where the unresolved root stagnates or evolve.

Modern medicine, for all its marvels, can sometimes overpromise. Let's be honest—if we haven't yet figured out how to grow a single living potato from scratch in a lab, how are these great apes claiming mastery over the infinite complexity of the pluricellular, self-regulating human body?

As of today, healing isn't engineered. It's allowed.

So let nature do what it does best. Give it the conditions. Withdraw the constant noise. Let one body breathe. Give it space, to remember its wholeness. How things should be.

That is healing. Everything else is only noise and life-out. not life-in.