I am dying from the treatment of too many physicians.

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the mournful words attributed to Alexander, son of Philip, conqueror of the known world, who is said to have declared in his last days: “I am dying from the treatment of too many physicians.” In this lament we hear not only the fading voice of a king, but the cry of a man undone by excess counsel, too many remedies, and too little harmony. For even the mighty, though they command armies and empires, are not spared the confusion that arises when many voices compete, and no single path is clear.

The origin of this saying rests in the mystery of Alexander’s death in Babylon, in the year 323 before the Christ. Struck with sudden fever after endless campaigns, he lay surrounded not by enemies, but by his own healers. Each physician, eager to please the great king, brought forth remedies, potions, and cures. Yet in their multitude lay his undoing. For in the clash of opinions and the excess of treatments, his body weakened, and he whispered these words of sorrow. Thus his fall became not only the tale of a mortal’s end, but a parable of divided counsel and misplaced trust.

This wisdom is not confined to medicine. Throughout the ages, men have perished not because they lacked guidance, but because they had too much, offered without unity. The ancient fable tells of the ship steered by too many captains, each giving orders, until the vessel broke apart upon the rocks. So it was with Alexander: the human body, like the ship, cannot endure conflicting masters. Even the greatest conqueror could not conquer the confusion of too many physicians.

Consider, too, the example of Galileo in his time of trial. Scholars, priests, and rulers all pressed upon him with their interpretations of truth. Some demanded silence, others demanded recantation, and others urged defiance. Surrounded by counsel on every side, his path grew heavy with contradiction. Though not slain like Alexander, his freedom was bound, and his truth muted. The lesson is the same: when many voices pull in opposite directions, wisdom itself is drowned in noise.

The deeper teaching in Alexander’s lament is this: seek simplicity, clarity, and unity of purpose. Whether in healing, in leadership, or in life, too many remedies can destroy what ails could not. The body, the mind, the soul—they all require balance, not confusion; harmony, not contradiction. The wise man does not gather endless counselors, but chooses a few and listens deeply. For wisdom is not multiplied by numbers, but by discernment.

O children of tomorrow, take this lesson to heart: when stricken by hardship, do not scatter your soul in a thousand directions. Choose carefully whom you trust, and hold to the path with steadiness. In medicine, seek not every cure at once, but the cure that brings peace. In life, heed not every voice that clamors for your ear, but the voices born of truth, compassion, and clarity. For it is better to follow one clear star across the sea than to be lost beneath a storm of lights.

Practically, let your actions reflect this wisdom. Do not chase every opinion in times of trial. Learn to discern between noise and guidance. Be wary of excess, even when it comes clothed in good intentions. If you are ill, trust not in endless remedies that fight each other, but in the balance that preserves life. If you are a leader, do not divide your path with too many counsels; choose wisely, then act with resolve.

Thus, Alexander’s dying words resound across the ages: “I am dying from the treatment of too many physicians.” Let it not be so with you. Whether in health, in truth, or in destiny, do not be undone by excess and contradiction. Seek harmony, trust in balance, and walk with clarity. For even the conqueror of the world was conquered by confusion—but the wise, though small in power, may conquer all by the simplicity of discernment.