Therefore in medicine we ought to know the causes of sickness and

In the words of the great Avicenna, master of healing and philosopher of the soul, we find a truth that transcends centuries: “Therefore in medicine we ought to know the causes of sickness and health.” These words, though simple, carry the weight of civilizations. They are a reminder that medicine is not merely the art of mending the body, but the sacred science of understanding the balance of life itself. For what is health, if not harmony between the forces within us? And what is sickness, if not the breaking of that sacred balance?

Avicenna—known in the East as Ibn Sina, born in the year 980—was not only a physician, but a seeker of truth in all things. In his monumental work, The Canon of Medicine, he united the wisdom of Greece, Persia, and Arabia into one radiant philosophy. To him, medicine was not a trade of treatments, but a divine inquiry into the causes of all that makes a human flourish or decay. He taught that the healer must first know the why before the how—for without understanding the root, one merely cuts the branches while the sickness grows again unseen.

His teaching reminds us that every illness—be it of the body or the mind—has its origin in causes both visible and hidden. Some dwell in the flesh, where imbalance of heat, cold, moisture, or dryness disrupts the harmony of the humors. Others lie deep within the spirit, where sorrow, fear, and anger fester until the body itself bends beneath their weight. Thus, to heal the body without understanding the heart is to paint over cracks in a crumbling wall. True medicine, Avicenna would say, demands wisdom, observation, and compassion in equal measure.

Consider the story of Florence Nightingale, centuries after Avicenna’s time. In the midst of the Crimean War, she saw that soldiers were dying not from their wounds, but from filth, infection, and neglect. While others tended only to the bleeding, she sought the causes of death itself—the poor air, the unclean hands, the stagnant water. By understanding and addressing these roots, she saved thousands, and transformed the very soul of modern medicine. She, too, walked the path Avicenna had spoken of—the path of knowing not just how to cure, but why sickness arises at all.

The quote also carries a deeper meaning beyond the practice of medicine—it is a mirror for the human condition. In every aspect of life, we are both physicians and patients. We suffer from discontent, from anger, from despair, and yet we rarely ask what causes these inner ailments. Avicenna’s wisdom calls us to look deeper: to seek the source of our troubles, not just their surface pain. For when we understand the cause, we gain the power to restore balance—whether it be in our bodies, our minds, or the world around us.

This teaching, therefore, is both scientific and spiritual. It reminds us that knowledge must serve understanding, and that healing is born from curiosity guided by empathy. The true physician—whether of bodies or souls—does not rush to treat symptoms; he listens, observes, and learns from nature’s quiet voice. As Avicenna wrote, “The art of healing comes from nature, not from the physician.” Thus, to know the causes of sickness and health is to walk hand in hand with the wisdom of creation itself.

Let us, then, be healers in our own lives. Let us learn the causes of our fatigue, our anxiety, our conflicts, and tend to them with patience and grace. Eat with mindfulness, rest with purpose, think with clarity, and love with gentleness—for these are the roots of health. When pain arises, do not curse it, but ask: what truth does this pain reveal? In this way, we honor the legacy of Avicenna—not only as a physician, but as a teacher of life. For in knowing the causes of sickness and health, we come to know the deepest secret of all: that wisdom and well-being are one and the same.