You have to trust your body to take care of you.

Hear the gentle wisdom of A. J. Langer, who declared: “You have to trust your body to take care of you.” At first, these words may sound simple, yet within them lies an ancient truth that countless generations have forgotten. They remind us that the human body, though fragile in appearance, is endowed with a mysterious resilience, a natural wisdom crafted through the ages. To live well is not merely to command the body, but to listen to it, to honor it, and to place our trust in its ability to heal, endure, and protect us.

The meaning of this saying speaks of balance between control and surrender. In our world, many believe they must dominate their bodies—push them beyond their limits, deny their needs, ignore their whispers of pain. Yet the deeper wisdom is that the body itself is an ally, not an enemy. The heart beats without command, the lungs breathe while we sleep, wounds knit together under the skin with silent diligence. To trust the body is to recognize that it works constantly on our behalf, and that peace of mind comes when we cease treating it as a machine to be forced, and instead honor it as a living companion.

The origin of such wisdom often arises in those who have confronted illness, hardship, or exhaustion, and learned that the body, when given care, responds with loyalty. Langer herself, known for her artistic life, has also spoken of living with chronic conditions that tested her strength. Out of such trials comes this teaching: that survival and flourishing are not merely acts of the will, but also acts of faith in the hidden power within one’s own flesh.

History bears witness to this truth. Consider the warriors of ancient Sparta, trained to endure hunger, cold, and injury, yet sustained by the deep trust that their bodies, honed through discipline and care, would not betray them in battle. Or think of Florence Nightingale, who through the ravages of disease discovered that recovery often comes not from force but from the body’s own silent capacity to restore itself when given clean air, rest, and nourishment. These stories remind us that the body is not to be dismissed as weak clay, but to be revered as the vessel of endurance.

O children of tomorrow, take heed: to live in harmony with your body is to live in harmony with life itself. When you overwork it, it falters. When you ignore it, it rebels. But when you trust it—feeding it with good food, resting it with care, strengthening it with movement—it will rise to your defense when you need it most. The journey of health is not only discipline but also faith: faith that your body is on your side, even when it struggles, even when it aches.

Reflect also on your own life. Have you not experienced moments when you thought you could not endure—yet your body carried you farther than your mind believed possible? Perhaps it was through illness, grief, or physical trial, yet still your heart beat, your breath remained, your feet kept moving. That was your body, faithful to you, even when you doubted it. Such moments are reminders that trust is not blind—it is earned through the quiet, daily proof of survival.

The lesson is clear: honor your body, listen to its wisdom, and learn to trust its strength. Do not treat it as something apart from yourself, for it is your truest companion on life’s journey. Care for it gently, but also believe in its power to carry you through trials. In return, it will grant you the resilience to face storms, the energy to pursue your purpose, and the peace to dwell fully in each moment.

So let Langer’s words be carried forward: “You have to trust your body to take care of you.” May they remind you not to despise your weakness nor take for granted your strength, but to walk in gratitude for the body that serves you, and to place your trust in its silent, steadfast guardianship. For within your very flesh dwells a wisdom older than your mind, and it will not forsake you if you honor it well.