Lessons from the Mountains: Why Movement Heals More Than Medicine

For thousands of years, people have searched for secret cures, the perfect combination of herbs, tonics, or rituals to bring strength and longevity. In ancient China, monks were often seen as the living embodiment of health and spiritual power. People admired the elixirs and herbal medicines they gathered in the mountains, assuming their vitality came from those rare roots and plants.

But I have often wondered if it was something simpler.
Maybe their health came not only from the herbs they consumed, but from the act of searching for them; climbing steep paths, crossing rivers, breathing mountain air, and moving through nature every day. The herbs may have healed, but it was the movement that truly made them strong.

Herbs are not bad, far from it. Nature’s medicine has real value and wisdom. But no herb, no supplement, no tonic can compare to the power of consistent movement. Exercise changes the entire body from the inside out: your lungs, heart, muscles, brain, mood, and even your immune system.

The Foundations of Health (Excluding Nutrition)

For me, true wellness comes from three interconnected elements:

1. Cardio – Expanding your VO₂ max, or your body’s ability to perform intense activity using oxygen efficiently. This builds endurance and resilience.

2. Strength – Weight training or body resistance work to keep bones dense, joints supported, and muscles active.

3. Mind Body Connection – The quiet, restorative side of practice, smoothing neural pathways, regulating tension, and allowing your body to recover.

Tai Chi fits beautifully into that third element. But I think many practitioners miss the full picture. In the past, daily life was cardio and strength work, people farmed, hunted, hauled, and walked everywhere. “Exercise” was not something they scheduled; it was how they survived.

My Own Practice

That is why I combine everything:

• Tai Chi for balance, focus, and internal strength

• Hiking in high elevations to challenge my lungs and heart

• Weightlifting to maintain structure and power

• Weapons training to refine coordination, precision, and the understanding of force

After decades of practice, I no longer need hour-long Tai Chi sessions every day. Instead, I integrate movement throughout life, flowing between stillness and exertion, effort and rest.

You can see my approach on my YouTube channel, where I practice in all kinds of weather and terrain:
Mountain Goat Tai Chi

Living close to high elevation gives me the perfect environment to test and strengthen my VO₂ max naturally. The mountains themselves have become my training ground, and I am convinced that movement, more than anything else, is the most powerful medicine we have.

How a simple vacation turned in the emergency preparedness training

When I planned my October 2025 trip, I thought it would be about recovery and reflection, hiking, tai chi, camping, and seeing parts of the Southwest that I’d always wanted to explore. However, it has evolved into something more: a real-time exercise in adaptability and emergency preparedness.

Earlier this year, after my wife and I divorced following thirty years together, I knew I needed to rebuild parts of myself I’d let go of, responsibility, self-direction, and confidence in making my own decisions. For decades, she handled much of the organization and planning. So I decided this trip would be my own kind of training; not just physical, but logistical and mental.

From Planning to Adaptation

I mapped out everything: routes to Chaco Canyon, Canyon de Chelly, and Acoma Sky City. I planned meals, campsites, fuel stops, and hiking distances. It was as much a test of organization as it was of endurance.

Then the government shut down, closing Chaco and disrupting half the plan. That was my first test: adapt. I pivoted quickly, with a coworker’s help, and rebuilt my route Mount Taylor, Acoma, and the lava fields of El Malpais National Monument.

That’s where the second test arrived Hurricane Priscilla. Moisture fronts, flash flood warnings, and unstable roads covered nearly the entire state of New Mexico. Suddenly, my vacation became a field course in real-world preparedness.

Training in Real Time

Every morning I’d spread out maps and weather updates, marking routes, fuel stops, and potential evacuation options. I studied topography to understand which areas were at risk for flash floods and where I could find high ground or paved exits in case of need.

I started thinking like a responder:

• What’s the safest direction if the roads wash out?
  
  

• How much fuel do I need in reserve?
  
  

• Where’s the nearest shelter or high-ground camping spot?
  
  

• How do I balance safety with still living the experience I came here for?
  
  

It became clear that preparedness isn’t paranoia — it’s awareness. It’s the difference between reacting and responding.

Lessons from the Field

This trip, now four days in, has been a reminder that no training is better than experience. I’ve learned how weather can change plans in an instant and how flexibility is one of the most important survival tools. I’ve learned to slow down and plan carefully, but hold those plans loosely.

Preparedness isn’t just about stockpiling gear; it’s about knowing how to think when things don’t go as expected. It’s the calm that comes from awareness and the confidence that comes from problem-solving under pressure.

At 60, I didn’t expect to be field-testing my own resilience on a “relaxing” solo road trip. But here I am part traveler, part student of circumstance,  learning that true preparedness is both practical and spiritual. It’s knowing how to move when the wind changes and how to stay grounded when everything else is shifting.