An Ayurvedic Wish for 2026: Balance for the Body, the Earth, and the Soul
An Ayurvedic reflection on doshas, dhatus, physiology, and the living intelligence of nature
The Basin Where the Body Learned to Be a World
Today I went for a walk in the mountains of Sonoma County, heading toward Sonoma off Highway 12.
The mist was low, the temperature gentle, and the air carried that quiet stillness that invites reflection.
It inspired me to write this blog.
I have spent the last year learning how to navigate technology.
And now, I find myself returning to my first and deepest love: content — teaching, storytelling, and meaning.
Before humans knew they had bodies,
before breath was counted and bone was named,
the mountains gathered.
They did not arrive all at once.
They emerged as elders do — slowly, with purpose.
The Mountains and the Doshas
Sugarloaf, in my imagination, is Vata.
He rose first, a narrow-backed ridge lifting its spine into fog.
He became the watcher of thresholds.
He learned how sight comes and goes, how signals travel, how awareness flickers.
He understood nerves, communication, and the quickness of thought.
Annadel, in my imagination, is Pitta.
She followed, heavy with dark stone and patient presence.
She lay wide and receptive, holding water and memory.
She taught how nourishment spreads, how tissue listens, how life is stored rather than announced.
Hood Mountain stood last among the three, steady and enduring — Kapha.
Bearing weather without complaint, he learned structure and resilience.
He learned how weight becomes strength rather than burden.
And beyond them all, keeping the oldest fire,
Mount St. Helena stood as Samadosha — the balancing force of all three doshas in perfect equilibrium.
She burned quietly beneath the surface, a mountain with long memory, even of previous worlds.
She carried heat without violence and transformation without resentment.
Together they formed a basin — not a valley of collapse,
but a bowl of instruction.
And into this bowl came the Dhatus —
the Sanskrit name for the seven tissues of the human body, mirrored by the living tissues of the land itself.
The Arrival of the Dhatus
The Dhatus did not arrive as substances.
They arrived as helpers, each carrying a function, each carrying a vulnerability.
Rasa — The Waters
Rasa, the fluid portion of the blood (plasma), arrived first as mist, dew, and fog.
She flowed through Annadel’s hollows and Sugarloaf’s slopes, learning how to move without force.
She taught lubrication, circulation, and emotional tone.
When Rasa was abundant:
skin glowed
joints whispered rather than cracked
the heart felt safe enough to soften
When Rasa thinned:
dryness appeared
anxiety followed
thirst spoke louder than hunger
Sugarloaf learned from Rasa that nerves must stay moist to speak truthfully.
Rakta — The Fire-Carried River
Rakta, the red blood cells, came next — red with iron and resolve.
She moved toward St. Helena’s heat but did not burn.
She learned how warmth becomes vitality, not inflammation.
When Rakta was balanced:
courage showed in the eyes
wounds healed cleanly
boundaries were firm without cruelty
When Rakta overheated:
rashes appeared
anger sharpened
the body forgot how to cool itself
St. Helena taught Rakta restraint —
that fire must serve life, not dominate it.
Mamsa — The Builders
Mamsa, the muscle tissue, arrived carrying form and strength.
Hood Mountain recognized them immediately.
They understood posture.
They knew how to hold.
When Mamsa was nourished:
movement felt confident
the body trusted itself
protection came without rigidity
When Mamsa weakened:
fatigue followed
injury lingered
boundaries collapsed inward
Hood taught Mamsa that strength grows from steadiness, not strain.
Meda — The Keepers of Warmth
Meda, fat tissue, arrived quietly — misunderstood from the beginning.
They stored.
They insulated.
They remembered winters.
When Meda was honored:
immunity stayed strong
hormones rested in rhythm
the nervous system felt buffered
When Meda was shamed or depleted:
fear appeared
cold settled in the bones
metabolism lost its patience
Annadel protected Meda, teaching that storage is wisdom, not excess.
Asthi — The Witnesses
Asthi, the bone tissue, rose slowly, layer upon layer.
They became ridges, teeth, and memory.
When Asthi was strong:
posture aligned
longevity whispered
the past did not haunt the present
When Asthi weakened:
collapse occurred
fear of aging surfaced
grief lodged deeply
Hood stood with Asthi through storms, showing that time is a collaborator, not an enemy.
Majja — The Inner Light
Majja, nerve and marrow tissue, arrived last — luminous and quiet.
She lived in marrow, in nerves, and in the subtle glow behind thought.
When Majja was nourished:
clarity arrived
sleep healed
intuition felt grounded
When Majja drained:
confusion spread
fear echoed
the mind forgot it was housed in a body
Sugarloaf, keeper of signals, taught Majja how stillness restores intelligence.
Shukra / Artava — The Essence
Finally came Essence — Shukra and Artava — the reproductive tissues of semen and the womb.
They arrived not as fertility alone,
but as creative continuity.
Essence carried:
joy
devotion
the impulse to create and protect life
When Essence flowed:
love felt safe
creativity endured
aging softened
When Essence scattered:
burnout appeared
cynicism hardened
life felt like effort rather than expression
All four mountains bowed to Essence,
for it carried the future quietly.
The Great Forgetting
Ayurveda calls this forgetting Prajñāparādha — the mistake of the intellect.
Time passed.
Humans arrived.
They extracted without listening.
They heated without restraint.
They stored without reverence.
They rushed without rhythm.
The Dhatus thinned.
The mountains watched.
Illness appeared not as punishment,
but as memory trying to return.
Dryness reminded us of Rasa.
Inflammation called for Rakta’s wisdom.
Weakness asked for Mamsa’s care.
Fear begged for Meda’s protection.
Collapse cried for Asthi’s patience.
Confusion whispered for Majja’s light.
Burnout mourned the loss of Essence.
The Reunion
The mountains did not intervene.
They waited.
Because reunion is always a remembering.
When humans walk slowly again,
when they eat with the seasons,
when they rest without guilt,
when they honor structure and softness equally,
the Dhatus — the seven tissues — return to balance.
And the mountains lean inward once more.
Not to trap —
but to teach.
Ayurveda, a precise and rigorous science that often sounds like poetry, would say this:
The body is a landscape that learned from mountains.
Health is not achievement.
It is Smṛti — remembrance.
The remembrance of wholeness.
Of calm.
Of that quiet, cozy moment when all is well —
in your body and in the world around you.
A Closing Reflection
If this way of understanding the body resonates with you —
if you sense that your symptoms may be messages rather than mistakes —
you may benefit from a more personalized conversation.
In my clinical work, I help people understand how their physiology, nervous system, digestion, and emotional patterns reflect deeper imbalances — and how to restore harmony gently, intelligently, and sustainably.
If you feel called, you are welcome to schedule a consultation.
Sometimes healing begins simply by being listened to.
Call for more information 707-527-7313
