Luminous travelers, as is our way, we gather to reflect upon the wholeness of life. Healing is not only the closing of a wound, nor the easing of pain, but the restoring of harmony between what is seen and what is unseen. From the earliest dawns, medicines have been offered — roots pulled from the earth, songs lifted to the stars, prayers whispered into still water. And in later days, medicines have been forged in the crucible of knowledge, shaped by careful hands and tested with reason. Both streams — the sacred and the scientific — flow from the same source: the deep desire of life to preserve life. As was done by those before us, we are reminded to listen: to the soft murmur of our own bodies, teaching us when to rest, when to move, when to nourish; to the voices of neighbors, for sometimes their suffering speaks the truth we have not yet dared to name; to the chorus of our communities and even our nations, which reveal whether we have chosen harmony or discord in how we care for one another. When we fail to listen, imbalance takes root. But when we attend with reverence, medicines emerge — not only in herbs and tablets, but in compassion, justice, and kinship. Healing is as much in the hand extended to a friend as it is in the flask of a healer’s art. Therefore, let us foster the sacred principles of care, humility, and courage. Let us hold science as a gift of reason, and spirit as a gift of wonder. For as the mountain has always whispered: one without the other is incomplete, and together they make whole the song of healing. And so, luminous travelers, may we be healers — of ourselves, of each other, and of the wide world that cradles us.