The last few posts on spiritual medicine have been a progression toward understanding the traditional Chinese medicine axiom that all disease originates from an imbalance of emotions stemming from stress and trauma. Another way to express this is that the disruption of our internal terrain caused by stress and trauma sets the stage for disease to develop. These initiating factors may be external—such as exposure to environmental carcinogens in the case of cancer etiology—but susceptibility ultimately comes down to genetic predisposition and constitution, both of which are shaped by current life stresses and the inherited effects of familial trauma. (For a full discussion on the epigenetic impact of intergenerational trauma, see my book Cancer, Trauma & Emotions.)

We’ve also considered that trials can become opportunities for growth, a phenomenon known as post-traumatic growth. Yet it’s important to acknowledge that some people are presented with life circumstances that are more than they can bear. To this, spiritual medicine offers two insights. The first is the power of community.

Image by Sora, OpenAI

We are social beings—not quite pack or herd animals, but still deeply interdependent. Deny this truth at your own risk. Society would not function without the care offered by our individual efforts. These collective contributions—or detriments—determine the health of any given society, with the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Research into blue zones supports this view. Alongside a local, whole-food diet and regular physical activity, two psychosocial factors common to all long-lived populations are community support and life purpose. The latter was explored in the last post; here, let us consider the former in the context of spiritual medicine.

Life can be unbearable at times. Loss of a loved one, chronic illness, disaster, misfortune—no one reaches old age without enduring multiple traumas. Sometimes we’re strong enough to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps; other times, we’re not. It is at such inflection points that we face a choice: wallow in despair or reach out to our community. That support might come in the form of compassionate healthcare providers, social workers, clergy, or simply the listening ear of trusted friends and family. A burden shared is a burden halved.

One of the most profound aspects of community is its ability to act as a mirror. We may be blind to how our stresses and traumas are obscuring our life purpose, but the reflective nature of another’s perspective can help catalyze a rediscovery of that deeper calling. Consider the example from last month’s post: a child with a love for drawing who is told their art is worthless. One empathetic art teacher is all it takes to rekindle that spark and offer an outlet for the soul to develop its potential. We heal as a community, one individual at a time.

The second insight of spiritual medicine that can lift up the downtrodden is the healing power of divine grace. Across religious traditions, there is a common theme: higher spiritual forces can and do come to our aid in times of crisis. How, when, and why acts of divine intervention occur remains a mystery, but simply knowing they are possible—and being open to them—can help invite such forces to work in and through us. I don’t think acts of grace are accidents. But even if they were, those with a committed spiritual or religious practice seem to be more “accident-prone” in the best possible way.

These two forms of a helping hand—community and grace—may appear as complementary yet contrasting forces, but the distinction is more subtle than it seems. Consider how often we pray for others: surgeons before a procedure, politicians before a vote, soldiers enduring conflict. There’s essentially no separation between community support and the greater spiritual realm that influences—and, dare I say, governs—it. Whether we recognize it or not, we’re in constant interaction with both beneficial and harmful spiritual forces that can shift the balance in our lives.

That’s where we’re headed next, and it’s a deep discussion. But before we press on to define these spiritual forces and explore how they affect us, we’ll take a brief excursion to meet a cultural archetype that always bubbles up when we start to take ourselves too seriously—the trickster.