陳立維老師部落格

癌來自情緒，情緒來自人，哪些情緒被壓抑？哪些情緒變成毒？哪些情緒在日常生活中層層堆疊？

癌症的學分，最核心的兩科是：委屈和憤怒。

在成功的案例中，我們總能找到一個「願意傾聽自己」的人，而癌症的康復，幾乎都發生在最放鬆的狀態中，那是免疫力最強的時刻。

在末日消息尚未侵襲之前，請問自己：哪些事要趕快做？哪些人要趕快遠離？

你必須非常誠實對自己說：「我知道該做什麼，而且我已經做了。」

Cancer arises from emotion, and emotion arises from human experience.
Which emotions have you suppressed?
Which emotions have turned into toxicity?
Which emotions have accumulated layer by layer in your everyday life?

The two core “credits” of cancer are:

resentment
and
anger.

In every successful recovery case, we always find someone who is willing to listen deeply to themselves—and nearly all recoveries happen in the most relaxed state.
That is when the immune system is strongest.

Before the final message of life arrives, ask yourself:

What must I do immediately?
Whom must I distance myself from at once?

And be deeply honest with yourself:

“I know what I need to do—and I have already begun doing it.”

老，是年紀；老，也是人間時間的記錄。但我們執著的「老態」，其實都是身體堆積的結果。只要身體不堆積，人就不會顯得老。

當你對身體出清有信心，當你看到身體逐漸回春，你會發現：年紀在增加，身體卻在逆向發展。

老，是堆積；年輕，是出清。

面對「人人喊老」的同儕，我忽然升起一個強烈的念頭：我想告訴每一位說自己「老了」的人：你不老，你只是堆積太沉重。

真正老化的，是頑固的大腦、僵硬的主觀、不肯改變的陋習，是那份「我已經老了」的執念。

走進斷食的大門，你將重新遇見那個年輕的自己。有一天，你會不認識鏡子裡那位「很難老的老人」。

Aging is age; aging is a record of time lived.
But the “old look” we obsess over is simply the result of accumulation.
As long as the body does not accumulate waste, it does not appear old.

When you trust the process of clearing out the body, when you witness your body returning to youth, you will discover:
your age moves forward, but your body moves backward.

Aging is accumulation; youthfulness is release.

Faced with peers who constantly proclaim “I’m getting old,” a strong impulse arose within me:
I want to tell every person who says they are old—

You are not old. You are simply carrying too much.

What truly ages is a stubborn mind, a rigid worldview, an unwillingness to change habitual patterns, and the firm belief that “I am already old.”

Walk through the doorway of fasting and you will meet the younger version of yourself again.
One day, you will not recognize the “elderly person” in the mirror—because that person refuses to age.

斷食能連結健康，因為它觸發了身體最清晰的指令：先出去，才能進來；先移除囤積，才能順暢流動。

這是身體的智慧，也是自然法則的提醒。

我們是否佔有了太多不該屬於自己的東西？身體之所以囤積，是不是因為我們塞進了太多不該存在於身體的物質？

我們都有共同的經驗：明知道不能再吃，卻仍抵擋不了慾望。吃的背後是一種佔有慾，是物慾，也是貪婪。

身體內建自然法則，我們和身體早就建立了「遠離越多越好」的共識，或許我們都體會過：生病往往源自違背「越多越好」的事實。

自然法則中是否真的存在「越多越好」？看看生命走到盡頭、健康被徹底奪走的人，那些能坦然說出「什麼都不要了」的人，最能理解「越多越好」是多麼荒謬。

Fasting brings us back to health because it activates the body’s clearest command:
first release, then receive; first remove what is stagnant, then restore flow.

This is the body’s wisdom—and nature’s reminder.

Have we accumulated too much that should never have been ours?
Is the body’s “storage” merely the result of us forcing into it what never belonged there?

We all share a similar experience:
knowing we should not eat more, yet unable to resist the desire.
Behind eating lies the impulse to possess—material desire, or simply greed.

If the body is designed according to natural law, then we already share with it a silent understanding:
“more” is not always better.
Perhaps we have all learned the hard way that illness stems from violating this truth.

Does “the more, the better” truly exist in nature?
Look at those approaching the end of life, whose health has been entirely stripped away—
the ones who can calmly say, “I don’t need anything anymore.”
They understand better than anyone how absurd the idea of “more” truly is.

談市場就會談到人脈，在底層邏輯漸漸成為一種思考模式的今天，人脈也必須重新定義。

你認識的人，多半對斷食不感興趣。因此我們重新定義：人脈，是你能幫助的人。

人脈，是那些真正相信你、願意支持你的人。

在職場上，人脈常被理解為「我認識某某人」。但在人生格局與典範的層次，「人脈」真正的含義其實是：有多少人認識你，有多少人願意幫助你。

自律養生要做的，是務實的幫助那些願意與身體和解的人；而他們回饋的能量，將支持自律養生繼續往前走。

When we talk about the market, we inevitably talk about networks. In an era where first-principles thinking has become a common mode of thought, “network” too must be redefined.

Most of the people you know have little interest in fasting.
So we redefine “network”:
A network is the group of people you are able to help.
A network is the group of people who truly believe in you and genuinely support you.

In the workplace, “network” is often understood as “I know so-and-so.” But in the dimension of life worldview and paradigm, its true meaning is:
How many people know you? How many people are willing to help you?

What Selfasteam must do is help—practically and sincerely—those who are willing to reconcile with their own bodies. And the energy they return will carry Selfasteam forward.

在阿提亞的演講裡，我聽見他對自己傲慢的懺悔；但更想問的是：你身邊所熟悉的醫師：他們對病人的態度謙卑嗎？他們對藥物治療的風險，有給予真正的同理與說明嗎？

如果你的部屬「成事不足、敗事有餘」，你會放心把任務交給他嗎？這不就是我們日常生活中最基本的風險評估？

成功率多少？失敗率多少？代價是什麼？

阿提亞在書中談「快速死亡」與「慢速死亡」：醫療對前者很有效率，卻在後者徹底失能。

我能說的只有一句：施力點錯了。因為醫病雙方的動機，從來都不是解決問題，而是滿足慾望。

醫師的慾望、病人的慾望，交織成一段共同的風險故事。

In Attia’s talk, I heard his remorse for past arrogance.
But what I want to ask is this:

What about the physicians you personally know?
Are they humble toward their patients?
Do they truly explain the risks of medications with empathy and honesty?

If your subordinate is “more likely to spoil things than complete them,” would you entrust them with important tasks?
Isn’t this the most basic form of risk assessment in daily life?

What is the success rate?
What is the failure rate?
And what will it cost?

In Outlive, Attia speaks of “fast death” versus “slow death”: medicine is efficient with the former, and utterly powerless with the latter.

All I can say is this:
The point of force is misplaced.
Because neither the physician nor the patient is driven by the desire to solve problems—they are driven by desire itself.

The desires of the physician and the desires of the patient intertwine to form a single, shared story of risk.

哲學家彼得・辛格（Peter Singer）提出「有效的利他主義」，他曾問過：「當你有能力幫助一個人而你卻不做，這算不算一種錯誤？」

當你一次次在生活中看到有人「明明舉手之勞卻選擇拒絕」，你真的會懷疑：人性本善，是不是一場誤會？你甚至會嘗試解釋為「被害恐懼症候群」，一種來自反覆受傷後的自我保護。

這是一種環境效應、也是人群效應。當你身邊充斥著勢利與自利，你也會逐漸忘記如何關注他人，甚至不再習慣主動給予。

《人慈（Humankind）》一書中有一段引文：「這種想法被演化所證實，被日常生活所確認，以至於根深蒂固到我們不再察覺。」作者布雷格曼（Rutger Bregman）想說的是：大部分的人，內心深處其實是善良的。

而我想補充的是：許多讓人反感的行為，並非來自本質的「壞」，而是環境長期強化了他們的自我保護。他們不是喜歡刁難，而是活在「必須先保護自己」的恐懼裡。

Philosopher Peter Singer once posed a question through his idea of “effective altruism”: When you have the ability to help someone but choose not to, is that not a kind of wrongdoing?

When you witness, again and again, someone refusing to help even when it costs almost nothing, you start to question whether “human nature is good” might be a misunderstanding. Sometimes you may even try to explain it as a kind of “victim’s phobia”—a self-protective response born from repeated hurt.

This is an environmental effect, a social effect. When you are surrounded by self-interest and opportunism long enough, you gradually forget how to care for others—and eventually lose the habit of giving.

In Humankind, there is a line that reads: “This idea has been confirmed by evolution and reinforced by daily life, until it becomes so deeply rooted that we no longer notice it.”
Rutger Bregman’s point is that deep down, most people are inherently good.

What I want to add is this: many off-putting behaviors do not come from some “innate badness,” but from environments that have long strengthened people’s instinct to protect themselves. They do not enjoy being difficult; they simply live in the fear of “having to defend themselves first.”

我寫書，我講授斷食養生，我引導聽得懂的人繼續前行，陪伴願意改變自己的人持續努力。

我不斷問自己為何做這件事，也不斷提醒自己它的意義。

眼前能改變多少人，或許不是我能關注；真正值得放在心上的，是未來能影響多少人，那是這份工作的方向與使命。

我深信：能夠輕鬆自在的做自己，是每個靈魂最深的渴望。我雖然常公開承認自己反骨，但其實我有一種「迎合靈性意願」的慣性，只是早期還不懂行為與內在動機的關係。

環境很殘酷，現實也常讓人挫折。讓我堅持近二十年的動力，從來都不是那些轉身離開的人，而是那些被觸動的眼神。

到底是什麼力量讓我堅定了二十年？或許我也曾找不到答案，而真正的答案是：

這是一份「我與我自己」合而為一的工作。

I write books, I teach fasting and health, I guide those who can truly hear, and I walk with people willing to change themselves.
I constantly ask myself why I do what I do, and I constantly remind myself of its meaning.

How many people I can change right now is not what I focus on.
What matters is how many people I may influence in the future. That is the direction and mission of this work.

I deeply believe: being able to simply and freely be oneself is the deepest longing of every soul.
Although I openly admit I have a rebellious streak, the truth is that I’ve always had a natural tendency to follow the desires of my inner spirit—something I only learned to understand much later.

The world can be harsh, and reality often brings discouragement.
Yet what has sustained me for nearly twenty years has never been those who turned away—it has always been the eyes of those who were moved.

What gave me the strength to persist for two decades?
Perhaps I once struggled to find the answer. But the real answer is:

This is work in which I am wholly united with myself.

在我看來，這是一段被人性攪亂的科學史。不用換窗，就永遠不會懂這個世界的反常；缺乏勇氣，就永遠看不穿這門自以為睥睨一切，實則早已沉醉的科學。

而真正讓我站穩身體立場的，是一位又一位出現在我面前的迷路者。他們的困惑，反而讓我看得更清楚：原來大家都在等，等發病，等身體用最劇烈的方式控訴。

但我們真的願意在危急時刻才觸碰那個臨界點嗎？多少經歷過瀕死的人記錄過那一刻的恐懼、不甘與不捨，不捨自己在毫無準備下，結束一生。

不捨的是生命，而不解的是：為何從未準備？為何不肯停下來觀察身體？為何不肯給自己一個學會照顧身體的機會？

To me, this is a scientific history distorted by human impulses.
Without changing the window through which we observe, we will never understand the absurdity of this world;
without courage, we will never see through this science that believes itself omnipotent, yet is long intoxicated by its own illusion.

What steadied my footing on the side of the body were the many lost individuals who sat before me.
Their confusion helped me see the truth more clearly:
everyone is waiting—waiting to get sick, waiting for the body to issue its harshest protest.

But do we really want to touch that threshold only when crisis strikes?
Countless people who have had near-death experiences describe that moment as terror, regret, and deep sorrow—sorrow that they ended their life without preparation.

What we mourn is life.
What we don’t understand is this:
Why were we never prepared?
Why do we refuse to pause and observe the body?
Why do we deny ourselves the chance to learn how to care for it?