Mind. Body. Spirit.

Mind. Body. Spirit.

By Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healer

You can’t separate a man from himself. Not really. He tries to. He drinks to forget. He fights to feel alive. He prays when he’s afraid. But it all comes back around. The mind, the body, the soul—it’s all tied together like three men in a foxhole. One gets hit, they all bleed.

You think your body can carry the weight if your mind is broken? It can’t. The hands shake. The eyes dim. You get tired, and no amount of sleep helps. You think you can think clearly when your soul is sick? You can’t. The thoughts come like ghosts and sit with you at night.

People like to pretend they’re parts. A mind in therapy. A body at the gym. A spirit in a church pew. But you aren’t parts. You’re a whole thing. You fall apart together or you get strong together. No in-between.

When I was in Spain, I watched a bull die slowly. Wounded in the flesh, but proud in the head. He kept standing. Until he didn’t. That’s how it is. Your mind might be strong. But your body gives out. Or the spirit breaks. And then you’re just a shell of who you were.

The old men in the war knew this. They drank for the pain in their legs but prayed for the pain in their hearts. They told the truth when they were dying. Not before.

If you want to live—not just survive, but live—you have to feed all three. You read, so your mind doesn’t rot. You move, so your body doesn’t die before you do. You pray or you meditate or you sit quietly in the dark—so your spirit doesn’t dry up like an old well in August.

There’s no magic in it. Just truth. You take care of the whole man, or none of him lasts.