I believe that stress is a factor in any bad health.

“I believe that stress is a factor in any bad health.” Thus spoke Christopher Shays, a voice of reason among the leaders of men, who, though steeped in the affairs of governance, understood a truth as ancient as the human heart: that the mind and body are one, and that turmoil within the spirit manifests as suffering within the flesh. His words echo across time, reminding us that illness is not born of the body alone, but often from the storms of the soul—the fears we nurture, the anxieties we carry, the burdens we refuse to lay down.

The ancients knew this truth well. The physicians of Greece and India, the monks of China, the healers of Africa—all spoke of the same sacred balance. Stress, though they called it by other names—disturbance of humors, imbalance of chi, disharmony of spirit—was seen as the shadow that drains vitality. For when the heart is at war with itself, no medicine can fully heal. The body may be treated, yes, but without peace of mind, the wound will always reopen. Thus, Shays’s wisdom bridges the ancient and the modern, reminding us that in every age, the first medicine must be calm.

Think, for a moment, of the story of Florence Nightingale, who walked the wards of war. She saw not only the broken bones and fevers of soldiers, but the invisible wounds of fear and despair. She wrote that recovery came faster to those who felt hope, who found comfort in her voice or light in her lamp. Her care was not only of the body—it was the soothing of stress, the healing of the unseen. Even now, her lesson endures: that to heal one must address both the sickness and the sorrow, the pain and the pressure that feeds it.

Stress is the silent thief, robbing life of its rhythm. It tenses the muscles, clouds the mind, and poisons the blood with unease. Like an invisible serpent, it winds through the veins of the modern world—fed by worry, competition, and the endless noise of life. Men chase wealth, women bear burdens, and the young grow restless beneath invisible expectations. And though the temples of medicine grow ever more advanced, still the sickness deepens, because the heart has forgotten the art of stillness. What Christopher Shays named in passing is, in truth, one of humanity’s greatest struggles: to master the chaos within before it destroys the harmony without.

The ancients taught that health is not merely the absence of disease, but the presence of balance. A calm mind, a steady heart, a body aligned with purpose—these form the true medicine. In the old temples of healing, before any herb was given, the healer would ask the patient, “What troubles your spirit?” For he knew that until the soul was lightened, the body could not rise. And so too must we, in this modern age, remember that wellness begins not in the pill, but in the peace we cultivate each day.

To live without stress is impossible—for even the mountain trembles in the wind—but to live mastering it is divine. The wise do not flee life’s storms; they learn to stand firm in them. When worry rises, they breathe. When anger burns, they let it pass like rain upon stone. When duty grows heavy, they rest—not in idleness, but in awareness that the soul, too, requires tending. To live thus is to practice the medicine of serenity, to strengthen the mind so that the body may endure.

So, my child, take heed of Shays’s wisdom: “Stress is a factor in any bad health.” Guard your heart, for it governs your flesh. Do not let resentment, fear, or relentless ambition poison the wells of your being. Learn the sacred arts of stillness—meditation, prayer, quiet reflection. Speak kindly to yourself, and forgive often, for bitterness breeds sickness. When the world demands haste, answer with patience. When it shouts, answer with silence. For in mastering your inner peace, you master life itself.

And thus the teaching endures: the true healer dwells within. Medicines may mend the body, but only calmness, gratitude, and love can mend the soul. In this union of peace and purpose lies the secret to enduring health. For the one who tends the garden of the spirit will find that even in the storms of life, the body stands strong, and the heart beats steady as the rhythm of creation itself.