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Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

You pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture.
-Louise Bourgeois

Who would you be without your memories? Without the ideas you have collected about yourself, about others and the world around you? I have thought a lot about this in the last couple of years as I cared for my mother who was shedding her memories the way a tree loses its leaves when winter is coming. At first there was a panic as to what would happen, what would be left and how would we cope if we got to the point where I was a stranger.

Of course there was a resistance, a desire to hold on to every moment and remembrance, but that resistance itself was a form of disease built by fear and the unknown. Eventually the path we chose was acceptance and the world around us loosened, tension slackened and we made space for new things. My mother never forgot who I was but sometimes she didn’t know that I was her daughter, I was maybe a sister or a friend or even her mother. I, in turn, had to release my resistance to the idea of her as my mother. Whoever she thought I was, I wanted her to associate me with love and safety and I let that dictate my reaction to each situation we faced.

She saw the environment around us with new eyes each day and she took me along for the ride. Without the clutter of the past we would marvel at the new green shoots of leaves on a plant or the rising of the moon. How miraculous to see the rising of the moon as though for the first time!

Our memories can be tools. They can transport us to a moment in time in the past and we can feel the texture of an object we haven’t held for years or conjure up the smell of our childhood bedroom. Our memories can also be weapons. Some people hold on to grudges like they are precious riches. Our memories can also be unreliable. Women who experience childbirth often say in the moment they will never do it again only to do it again once the pain has passed and they are holding a newborn in their arms.

And perhaps memory reaches beyond what we consciously remember. Like the complex networks beneath forests, where trees exchange resources and information through their roots and fungal partners, we too are connected to what came before us. Scientists are exploring whether some effects of our ancestors’ experiences may be carried through epigenetic mechanisms – chemical changes that affect how genes are expressed without changing the DNA sequence itself. In animals, there is compelling evidence that some of these effects can cross generations; in humans, the science is still unfolding. What we inherit may be more complicated than the stories we have been told.
None of us is an island.

This month our writers explore memory in many different forms. Thank you for reading.

See you next month,

Jane

San Miguel de Allende

Hongosto

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By Jane Bauer—

7 Fascinating Facts About Mushrooms

In August, the rains transform the forests surrounding San Miguel de Allende into one of nature’s greatest spectacles. Seemingly overnight, mushrooms emerge from the forest floor, tree trunks, fallen logs, and even old pinecones. The season is so closely associated with the month that many affectionately call it Hongosto—a blend of hongo (mushroom) and agosto. For just a few weeks, wild fungi become one of the stars of the season, appearing in markets, restaurant menus, and forest trails before disappearing almost as quickly as they arrived.

1. Mushrooms aren’t plants.
They’re not animals either. Mushrooms belong to their own biological kingdom: Fungi, more closely related to animals than to plants.

2. Most of the mushroom is hidden.
The part we eat is simply the fruiting body. The real organism is an underground network of microscopic threads called mycelium, which can stretch for kilometres beneath the forest.

3. Every mushroom has a different job.
Some recycle dead trees, turning fallen wood back into soil. Others live in partnership with tree roots, helping forests absorb water and nutrients. A few even grow on insects or other fungi.

4. They can appear overnight.
After the right combination of rain, humidity, and temperature, mushrooms can grow from invisible to fully formed in just 24–48 hours.

5. They’re nutritional powerhouses.
Many edible mushrooms are rich in B vitamins, selenium, potassium, antioxidants, and fibre, while being naturally low in calories. Some varieties are also being studied for their potential immune-supporting and anti-inflammatory properties.

6. Mexico is one of the world’s great mushroom countries.
Scientists have documented thousands of fungal species in Mexico, with hundreds considered edible. New species are still being discovered.

7. Forests couldn’t survive without fungi.
Without mushrooms and other fungi breaking down dead plants and recycling nutrients, forests would eventually become buried under layers of undecomposed leaves and wood.

Wild mushrooms can be purchased at Simbiosis in Mercado Sano, San Miguel de Allende.
http://www.simbiosisboutique.com

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

“Each food item in a typical U.S. meal has traveled an average of 1,500 miles….If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week (any meal) composed of locally and organically raised meats and produce we would reduce our country’s oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week.”
― Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life

I live in a small village with a public address system where you still hear announcements like, “La señora Martínez tiene pollo a la venta.” These days there are fewer loudspeaker messages because most have moved to our community WhatsApp group. A typical post reads: “Hola, buen día. Ya les tengo a la venta los ricos tamales de frijol y chepil en el domicilio de la señora Mendoza.” It’s simply letting the neighborhood know that fresh tamales are ready and waiting at someone’s home.

Mexico is full of pop food stands. People sell bolis, sliced fruit, tacos, tamales, homemade bread, roasted chickens, and countless other foods. Economists call this the informal economy, but there is a misconception that “informal” means unregulated. As a restaurant owner, people often ask me whether businesses here need permits or pay taxes, as though selling food in Mexico is free from the bureaucracy found in the United States or Canada. It isn’t. Even street food vendors are typically required to obtain permits, licenses, and food safety training. What sets Mexico apart is not the absence of regulation—it is that we have not completely corporatized our food system.

This past May I was hiking the North Carolina section of the Appalachian Trail. The forest was magnificent, and there is no better way to reconnect with nature. But every time I left the trail to resupply, I was struck by how many hikers—and local residents—relied almost entirely on processed food. Frozen meals, convenience stores, and an endless parade of fast-food restaurants lining the highways have become the default way to eat.

The numbers are hard to ignore. The United States has an estimated 180,000 to 210,000 corporate fast-food restaurants, compared with just 35,000 to 45,000 in Mexico. McDonald’s alone has 13,706 U.S. locations, compared with only 380 in Mexico, more than 36 times as many.

Recently, I drove nearly 900 kilometers from Huatulco to San Miguel de Allende. Do you know how many corporate fast-food restaurants I passed? Not one.

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That contrast matters. The recent U.S. Cyclospora outbreak, linked to contaminated shredded lettuce and affecting more than 1,600 people across over 30 states, illustrates the vulnerability of highly centralized food systems. When a single supplier distributes food across an entire country, one contamination event can quickly become a national public health crisis. Efficiency and scale have their advantages, but they also create fragility.

A few weeks ago I watched a social media video of a woman planting dried beans from a bag of mixed bean soup. The comments were filled with people insisting it was illegal to grow them. Whether or not those claims were true almost didn’t matter—the instinctive assumption was that growing your own food had somehow become suspect.

So the next time you see someone selling fresh food from a cart, a folding table, or the front of their home, recognize that they are preserving something valuable. Every tamale, taco, loaf of bread, and bag of fresh fruit represents a food system that is local, decentralized, and deeply human. Plant a garden. Buy from your neighbors. Skip the drive-through. Real food, sold by real people, is more than a meal; it is a quiet act of revolution.

See you in October,

Jane

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Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

“Our true nationality is humankind.”
— H.G. Wells

We are in the midst of World Cup fever. What is more Mexican than El Tri? And yet, when we dig a little deeper, we discover that football itself is an import. The game arrived in Mexico with Cornish miners in the nineteenth century and was gradually adopted, adapted, and embraced until it became something undeniably Mexican.

At what point do the blurry lines of otherness disappear? I find myself thinking about this often. Maybe because I have spent so much of my life living somewhere other than where I was born. Over the years I have been called a tourist, a traveller, an immigrant, and occasionally the word that makes me cringe the most: expat. What is the difference, exactly?

An immigrant moves somewhere permanently. An expat plans to leave? A traveller keeps moving? A displaced person had no choice? The definitions seem straightforward until you start looking closely. Then they begin to fall apart. Is it intention that matters? Money? Privilege? Time? And what about the rest of us?

Aren’t we all being displaced constantly? We move across countries and continents, but also through relationships, careers, beliefs, identities, and stages of life. The person I was at twenty is not the person writing this today. Sometimes the biggest migrations happen without ever crossing a border.

Perhaps movement is not the exception. Perhaps it is the human condition. The World Cup offers a fascinating reminder of this. National teams are presented as symbols of identity and belonging, yet many of their players have roots stretching across multiple countries and continents. Some were born in one place and represent another. Some hold dual citizenship. Some choose to play for the country of their parents or grandparents rather than the one where they were born.

These teams reflect a deeply interconnected world shaped by migration, colonial history, family ties, opportunity, and choice. And yet we remain remarkably attached to the question of origin.

Where are you from? Sometimes even when someone answers, it is not enough. “No, where are you really from?” As if birthplace alone could explain a person.

In this age of rapid technological change, global travel, and lives that increasingly unfold across multiple places, I sometimes wonder why we continue to use the location where someone first slipped into the world as one of our primary measures of identity.

Who are you really? Perhaps that is the more interesting question. The World Cup reminds us that identity is rarely as simple as a flag, a passport, or a place on a map. We are all shaped by where we come from, but also by where we go, who we love, what we learn, and the communities we choose along the way.

The older I get, the less interested I become in where people are from and the more interested I become in who they are.

Have a great July!

Huatulco

Escaping the Heat of the Coast

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By Jane Bauer—

May is the worst time of the year on the Oaxacan coast. It is when the land is the driest, the ocean the warmest and it seems as though everyone is waiting for those first drops of rain. While many people come to the Oaxacan coast for the beaches, I am most enthralled by the mountains. Turn around and look behind you. They rise up in majestic tones of purple and blue. When it gets unbearably hot it’s time for a drive into the Sierra Sur, where the temperature drops, the air sharpens, and everything slows down. Within a few hours’ drive from Huatulco, a completely different world unfolds.

The journey itself is part of the ritual. Leaving behind the palms and salt air, the road climbs steadily, curling into the mountains. The vegetation shifts almost imperceptibly at first, dry brush gives way to greener growth, then to dense forest. Windows come down. The air cools. By the time you reach the higher elevations, you’re reaching for a sweater. This is the Sierra Sur: a region defined by altitude, cloud forests, and quiet.

San José del Pacífico: Where the Clouds Settle
Perched along the mountain highway, San José del Pacífico has built a reputation as Oaxaca’s most atmospheric escape. Known for its drifting clouds and panoramic views, the town often disappears into mist by afternoon, only to reveal dramatic sunsets hours later. It is also famed for the hallucinogenic mushrooms that grow there.

One of the highlights is that many cabins come with a chimenea, a fireplace, which keeps you warm and cozy. The pace is unhurried, slow, chilly mornings—listening for birds, watching steam rise from your café de olla. Travelers come for the cool weather, but they stay for the feeling of introspection and awe that the environment inspires. Whether sitting on a balcony wrapped in a blanket or watching the clouds roll through the valley.

San Mateo Río Hondo: The Quiet Alternative
A short drive, or an hour’s hike, from San Jose, lies San Mateo Río Hondo, a lesser-known but equally compelling destination. Down in the valley this town has some great hiking. Dirt roads, community life, and long forest walks define the rhythm. The smell of pine trees and woodsmoke. With fewer visitors, Río Hondo offers something increasingly rare: space to be alone with the landscape.

Pluma Hidalgo: Coffee in the Clouds
Just an hour from Huatulco, Pluma Hidalgo offers another kind of escape, one rooted in agriculture and tradition. This region is synonymous with high-quality coffee, grown under the shade of forest canopy and nourished by the same cool, misty climate that defines the Sierra. Visiting Pluma Hidalgo is a chance to see the slower cycles of rural life: coffee drying in the sun, families tending to their land, and a deep connection to place that feels unchanged by time. The air here carries the faint scent of earth and roasted beans, a sensory shift from the salt and sunscreen of the coast.

A Different Kind of Luxury
What ties these places together is not just the temperature, but the contrast. In a matter of hours, you move from heat to cool, from open beaches to enclosed forests, from movement to stillness. There are no beach clubs here, no urgency to fill the day. Instead, the luxury is found in simple things: a hot drink in cold air, a quiet night wrapped in fog, the sound of wind through pine trees. It’s the kind of reset that doesn’t announce itself loudly, but lingers long after you’ve returned to sea level.

For those living or visiting the Oaxacan coast, this mountain escape isn’t just a trip. It’s a seasonal rhythm. When the heat builds, you go up.

Jane Bauer is the editor of The Eye and a chef. You can follow her on Instagram @livingfoodmexico

Huatulco

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life—no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground—my head bathed in the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space—all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature 1836

The month of May for me is always a time when I am changing gears. From October to April I work long hours, juggle many tasks and all the while try to move through the world with a smile.

As the busy season winds down in April and the temperature on the coast rises, my heartbeat softens, my muscles relax, and I come back into myself. I remember that there is no reason to rush. But who am I when I am not producing, organizing and planning? There is a meditation I like to do where I sit and close my eyes, I allow my mind to focus on my breath and then I imagine myself at younger stages of life. I sit like I did when I was 4 or 8 or 16. What is the essence of me? What is the essence of each of us when we strip away our tasks and obligations?

In May I get to enjoy leisurely mornings, long swims in the ocean or walks by the river with my dogs. With this slowing down I get to sit and contemplate my life’s purpose. Everything in nature exists in a symbiotic relationship with everything else: tree roots intertwine with fungi in the soil, nourishing flowers that feed bees, which pollinate fruit that sustains animals—and so the cycle continues. I recently read that nut producing trees don’t produce each year. In the years when there is an overpopulation of creatures that live on nuts, nuts will not produce and the population will be culled. How do the trees know? As a species do we trust in those cycles or are we pushing against them?

It is a cop-out to think our life’s purpose is amassing more stuff; homes, cars, financial security. While those things bring comfort do they really represent our purpose? I look at the tree outside my window; a large guanacaste. The sunlight flickers through its branches, a squirrel runs along a branch, a chachalaca hoots good morning, a magpie jay and a grackle screech at each other.

For me immersion in nature is as close as I feel to my life’s purpose. To just be and feel my soul as a part of something larger. Humans do not have dominion over nature, it has dominion over us and the sooner we accept that, we can stop struggling, let go, and enjoy it’s beauty.

Happy Summer,

Jane

 

San Miguel de Allende

From Bordeaux to the Bajío: The French Roots of Querétaro Wine

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By Jane Bauer—

About an hour from San Miguel de Allende, the vineyards of Querétaro stretch across a high, dry plateau that doesn’t immediately read as wine country. There are no rolling green hills or centuries-old estates. Instead, the landscape is open, sun-exposed, and shaped by a very different set of conditions. And yet, this region has become one of the most important wine-producing areas in Mexico, with a foundation that traces directly back to France.

Much of Mexico’s modern wine industry is built on French grape varieties. In Querétaro, that means Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Syrah, among others. These grapes were introduced as winemakers looked to established European models—particularly French—for structure, consistency, and quality. Over time, they became standard across many regions in Mexico, including this one.

What’s interesting is how those grapes perform here. Querétaro sits at a higher altitude than many people expect, often above 1,800 meters. The days are warm and dry, with strong sun, but the nights cool down significantly. That shift in temperature slows the ripening process and helps preserve acidity in the grapes. It’s one of the key factors that gives wines from this region their balance.

The soils also play a role. In parts of Querétaro, they are mineral-rich and well-draining, which forces the vines to work a little harder. That stress can translate into more concentrated flavors in the fruit. It’s not an easy environment, but it’s one that can produce very precise results when managed well.

One of the defining features of Querétaro’s wine scene is its focus on sparkling wine. The region has become known for wines made using the traditional method—the same process used in Champagne, where a second fermentation takes place in the bottle. This method is labor-intensive and requires careful control, but it produces wines with fine bubbles and a clean, structured profile.

The climate in Querétaro supports this style. The preserved acidity in the grapes makes them particularly well-suited for sparkling production. Over the past couple of decades, several wineries have focused on refining this approach, and the region now has a reputation for it. It’s not an attempt to recreate Champagne, but it clearly draws from the same technical foundation.

That said, the wines here are not French in identity. The influence is there in the grapes and the methods, but the outcome reflects local conditions. The intensity of the sun, the dryness of the air, and the elevation all shape the final product. There’s also a different mindset at play. Many Mexican winemakers are less constrained by tradition, which allows for experimentation alongside more classical styles.
You’ll see that in the range of wines being produced. Alongside structured reds and sparkling wines, there are blends, rosés, and small-batch projects that don’t always follow a strict model. Some producers are working with international consultants; others are entirely self-taught. It’s a mix of approaches, and that variety is part of what defines the region right now.

For visitors, Querétaro is relatively easy to navigate. There are established wine routes with clusters of wineries, tasting rooms, and restaurants open to the public. The infrastructure is there, but it hasn’t tipped into overdevelopment. Many of the wineries are still small to mid-sized operations, and it’s common to find yourself speaking directly with the people involved in the production.

A typical visit might include a tasting, a walk through the vineyard, and a meal on-site. Some places are more polished than others, but the overall experience tends to feel accessible. You can visit multiple wineries in a day without it becoming overly structured or commercial.

For those based in San Miguel de Allende, the region feels close—both geographically and culturally. It fits into the same broader landscape of central Mexico, where outside influences have been absorbed and reinterpreted over time. Just as San Miguel reflects layers of history and migration, the wine in Querétaro reflects a similar process.

French grapes, introduced through a long history of exchange, are now rooted in Mexican soil. The techniques may come from elsewhere, but the results are shaped here. It’s not about replication. It’s about adaptation.

And that’s what makes Querétaro worth paying attention to.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

“Peace cannot exist without justice, justice cannot exist without fairness, fairness cannot exist without development, development cannot exist without democracy, democracy cannot exist without respect for the identity and worth of cultures and peoples.”
–Rigoberta Menchú Tum (Guatemalan
Indigenous Rights Activist, 1990 UNESCO Prize for Peace Education, 1992 Nobel Peace Prize Winner

Mexico is often misunderstood. For many outsiders, the country exists as a kind of postcard: bright colors, mariachis on every corner, sombreros, tequila, and fiesta. The image has become so exaggerated that it borders on parody. Mexico is reduced to a handful of clichés that flatten the depth and diversity of the country. The reality is much more layered.

One of the things that has struck me most during my years living here is how strongly people identify simply as Mexican. In Canada or the United States, identity is often expressed through hyphenated heritage; Italian-American, Chinese-Canadian, Irish-American. Cultural roots remain visible and frequently celebrated.

In Mexico, those histories are often quieter, woven into the fabric of everyday life rather than worn on the surface. The result is a national identity that feels cohesive, but it can also obscure just how many different cultures have helped shape the country.

Like many countries, Mexico wrestles with questions of identity, belonging, and prejudice. Conversations around gentrification, migration, and “foreigners” have become increasingly heated in recent years. At the same time, Mexico itself has been shaped by centuries of migration.

Indigenous civilizations laid the foundations of this culture long before the arrival of Europeans. Spanish colonization profoundly altered the landscape. Later came immigrants from France, Lebanon, Germany, China, and beyond. Each group left its mark—sometimes subtly, sometimes dramatically. We see these influences in architecture, food, language, music, fashion, and even urban planning.

This month, The Eye explores one of those threads: the French connection. From pastry techniques that transformed Mexican bakeries to artistic exchange, architecture, and politics, the relationship runs deeper than many people realize. Recognizing these influences does not diminish Mexico’s Indigenous heritage. One of the country’s greatest strengths is that Indigenous traditions are visible in daily life in ways that are rare in the rest of North America.

But culture is never static. It evolves, absorbs, adapts, and reinvents itself. Mexican culture, as we know it today, is the result of centuries of exchange layered together into something entirely its own. That complexity is not a weakness. It is one of Mexico’s greatest strengths.

Thanks for reading and see you next month!

 

Huatulco

Why Oaxaca Is One of the Most Fascinating Cuisines in the World

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By Alicia Flores—

Travelers often arrive in Oaxaca, Mexico expecting tacos and margaritas. What they discover instead is one of the most intricate and culturally rich cuisines on earth.

Oaxacan cooking is not simply a collection of recipes; it is a living expression of geography, agriculture, and tradition. Corn, chile, cacao, herbs, seeds, and seasonal ingredients combine in ways that have evolved over centuries. Many techniques still used today predate the arrival of the Spanish.

At the heart of this cuisine is corn.

For thousands of years, Indigenous communities across Mexico have cultivated and refined maize varieties adapted to different climates and soils. The process of nixtamalization—soaking corn in an alkaline solution before grinding it into masa—is a technological achievement that transformed corn into a nutritionally complete food.

From this simple ingredient comes the tortilla, the foundation of daily life throughout Mexico.

Visitors are often surprised by how different a handmade tortilla tastes compared with the versions they may know from supermarkets. Fresh masa, pressed and cooked on a hot comal, produces tortillas that puff slightly as they cook, releasing a warm aroma of toasted corn.

It is a small moment that reveals just how deeply food and culture are intertwined.

Another hallmark of Oaxacan cuisine is mole. These complex sauces can contain dozens of ingredients—various chiles, seeds, spices, chocolate, and nuts—slowly toasted and blended into a deeply layered flavor profile. Every region and family has its own variation, and recipes are often passed down through generations.

Sourcing food play an essential role in the culinary landscape. A walk through the street of Huatulco reveals mountains of chiles, fresh herbs, cacao beans, cheeses, tropical fruits, and handmade tortillas. Cooking here begins with the ingredients themselves.

For travelers who want to understand these traditions more deeply, cooking classes can offer an extraordinary window into local culture. Learning how ingredients are prepared, how flavors are balanced, and how techniques have evolved over centuries brings the cuisine to life in a way that simply eating at restaurants cannot.

Food becomes a story.

In Huatulco,  cooking experiences give visitors the chance to explore this culinary heritage firsthand—preparing traditional dishes, learning about regional ingredients, and discovering why Oaxaca has earned a reputation as one of Mexico’s great gastronomic destinations.

Those curious to explore further can learn more about the experience offered by Chiles and Chocolate Cooking Classes, where guests dive into the history of Oaxacan cooking through hands-on preparation and discussion of the ingredients and traditions that define the cuisine.

Discover Oaxacan Cooking in Huatulco

For travelers who want to go beyond restaurant dining and truly understand the ingredients and traditions behind Oaxacan cuisine, hands-on cooking classes offer a unique perspective.

In Huatulco, Chiles and Chocolate Cooking Classes, led by Chef Jane Bauer, invite guests into the kitchen to explore the foundations of Mexican cooking. Participants learn about regional ingredients, traditional techniques, and the cultural stories that shape the cuisine of Oaxaca.

The cooking studio has eight stations which allows everyone to take part in the preparation of several dishes while discussing the role of corn, chiles, cacao, and other essential ingredients in Mexican food traditions.

By the end of the experience, guests leave not only with recipes but with a deeper understanding of why Oaxaca is considered one of the most important culinary regions in Mexico.

Classes run regularly in Huatulco and advance booking is recommended.

Learn more or reserve a spot here: http://www.huatulcofoodtours.com

Alicia Flores writes about food, culture, and travel in southern Mexico. She is particularly interested in traditional ingredients and the culinary heritage of Oaxaca.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

“We are here to awaken from our illusion of separateness.”
Thích Nhat Hanh

When you rant or retort obnoxiously on social media, it is like holding a hot coal in your hand and expecting someone else to burn. Your comment affects everyone who reads it — including you. Cortisol rises. Stress follows.

I opened my phone this morning and within minutes my nervous system was lit up. News of a cartel shooting. Messages asking if I was okay. A fire in Xadani. Canadians ranting about Mexicans ripping them off. Mexicans ranting about Canadians being cheap and gentrifying their country.

Stress — the invisible toxin.
Every time we open our phones and consume outrage, our bodies release cortisol. Heart rate increases. Inflammation pathways activate. The nervous system does not distinguish well between physical danger and social conflict; it simply reacts. Living in a constant state of judgment is physiologically corrosive.

Yes, we are living longer than previous generations. Medicine has dramatically extended lifespan over the past century. But we are also surrounded by more environmental toxins than ever — pollutants in our water, plastics in our oceans, chemicals measurable in human blood. Chronic disease now dominates modern life. We have prolonged years, but have we protected vitality?

To be healthy is to be whole — regulated, connected, integrated. Healthcare, at its root, should mean caring for that wholeness.

We often talk about “coexisting,” as if we are separate entities sharing space. In reality, we are deeply interconnected. Like a tree that depends on the quality of the river from which it drinks, the tree and the river are one. Separation is an illusion.

Be more understanding. Be more open. Assume good intentions more often than not. Regulate your nervous system. Put the phone down. Cook something real. Hug a tree and a stranger. Sit across from someone different from you and listen.

Wholeness isn’t optional; it’s essential. And in a time like this, choosing calm may be one of the most radical health decisions we can make.

See you next month,

Jane