Returning Is a Form of Love: How the Body Learns Through Repetition

Zoma Village, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

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Segment 3: Devotion and Discipline

Episode 1

Returning is a form of Love

Reflection

Love is not something the body waits to feel. It is something the body learns through devotion and discipline. - Dr. Kidi

Let me begin with a predicament you may recognize: starting and trying to maintain an exercise routine.

In the clinic, I often see older patients who come in frustrated because they can no longer open jars or because keys slip from their hands. The loss did not happen overnight. Grip strength fades gradually. There is no blame in that, and no value in looking back. So instead, I show them simple, practical exercises they can do at home: squeezing a soft ball while watching television, using clothespins to lift and release, holding the edge of a chair and slowly letting go. Small movements meant to preserve the strength they still have.

Research confirms what I see every day. Stronger grip strength is associated with better mobility, fewer limitations in daily life, and a lower risk of chronic conditions such as heart disease and early mortality.

Most of us know that maintaining quality of life over time requires both devotion and disciplined practice. But knowing is not the same as doing.

As physicians and as humans, we often detach ourselves from the truths we know. It is hard to imagine ourselves in a different place than where we are now. We tell ourselves that loss and limitation happen to others. In my own body, I could not picture a future where opening a jar felt hard or lifting my arms to reach a cabinet became a struggle.

That changed about two years ago after consoling a patient who was forced to stop playing tennis because the racket no longer stayed secure in his hands. The exercises I recommended did not take him back to the court. He was angry, not just with me, but with the loss of something that gave his life purpose and joy. He eventually chose to see another doctor, hoping someone else could restore what was gone. But something about my brief interaction with him switched on a light, making it clear how quietly strength can fade and how deeply that loss can touch what we take for granted. So I decided to work on my grip strength.

My son had installed a pull-up bar in one of our doorways, and I passed it mindlessly every time I walked to my office. That day, I looked up and thought, I can use this to work toward a pull-up as a way to strengthen my grip. It felt like a hard ask for someone with limited upper body strength, but I trusted that if I took it one small step at a time, I could get there. I came up with a simple plan: hang from the bar as long as I could and build strength gradually.

No gym.

No extra time.

No complicated routine.

I knew I had the discipline to follow through. And for a while, I did.

Slowly, I began to improve. I went from barely supporting my own weight to counting ten seconds, then twenty. The progress felt good.

But as the challenge grew, the voice of “just do it later” became louder than what my motivation and discipline could hold.

I walked past the bar once.

Then I passed it again.

Then I missed a day.

One missed day became two.

Returning began to feel heavy and awkward.

Weeks passed.

Then months.

Instead of beginning again, my thoughts whispered, “It’s too hard to start over.” Justifications followed, pulling me back toward comfort and denial, toward a familiar belief: weakness will never happen to me.

You see, I had plans. I had rules. I knew what I was supposed to do. And I had the discipline to start and keep going for a while. But eventually, I surrendered to the thoughts that made it feel too hard to keep pulling on that bar every time I passed it.

Why?

Because I was trying to rely on discipline without devotion by following rules without practicing how to return my attention to the present moment.

So how are devotion and discipline related?

Devotion is the practice of returning to the present moment with care. It is the willingness to listen to the body instead of arguing with it. It notices when the mind drifts into future fears or past judgments and gently brings attention back to what is being asked for now. It is not force. It is presence. It answers the question, why?

Discipline is the structure that supports that return. It provides a rhythm and a simple way back. Discipline answers the question, how?

Without devotion, discipline becomes rigid. It turns into rules that the mind eventually resists. But when discipline supports devotion, returning does not feel like starting over, it feels like continuing. It feels like love.

Returning is a form of Love

Think of a relationship you trust.

It was not built in a single moment. It grew through repeated, ordinary actions. Someone returning your call when they said they would. Sitting beside you when you felt unsure. Coming back to a conversation after tension instead of disappearing. Showing up when it mattered. Listening without judgment. That steady return, offered with care and consistency, builds trust. And from that trust, love grows. The body works the same way. Love in the body shows up as repeated care.

Each time I reach for the pull-up bar, I am not just training muscle.

I am reinforcing a relationship.

I am telling my body, I will show up for you.

I will listen.

I will return even if it is for a few seconds, reach up and let go or miss days.

I will not abandon the practice when it is interrupted.

And with each return, the body begins to trust.

And like any real relationship, trust gives love somewhere to live.

I was reminded of this recently after returning from a trip and coming face to face with the pull-up bar. I had not touched it in a week. A familiar thought surfaced. You lost momentum. You missed too many days. Keep walking.

I had to pause, breathe, and remind myself that the body does not ask for intensity or flawlessness.

It asks for reliability.

It asks for care that returns.

It asks for presence.

So I hung on the bar. I had lost some of what I had built, and that was okay. Repetition and practice do not mean you never stop. They mean you return after you stop. Each return teaches the body that care is not withdrawn when life interrupts and that progress is not erased by a pause.

My invitation is this: if there is a practice you stepped away from because it did not meet the standard of perfection you placed on yourself, begin again with devotion.

When devotion clarifies your why, discipline becomes the art of choosing what to repeat and how to return to it with care. Discipline is not about rushing into repetition. It is about understanding what you are practicing before asking the body to do it again and again.

Healing follows the same pattern.

The body does not heal because of one good day. It heals through repetition and return. When devotion and discipline are practiced together with care, they offer the body something steady and reliable: A form of love it can trust.

When It All Feels Hard

There are days when I walk past the pull-up bar and feel no desire to touch it. Not because I am failing, but because something in me is tired. On those days, the question is not whether I use the bar.

It is whether I can pass it without guilt.

Whether I can return to it without shame.

Whether I can miss a day without deciding the practice is over.

This is when presence brings forgiveness and devotion reveals itself as love.

Love does not demand performance.

Love does not keep score.

Love allows for pauses while keeping the door open.

Some days, practice is hanging for a full minute.

Some days, it is one breath while standing beneath the bar.

Some days, it is choosing not to push.

The body learns from all of it. It learns that care does not disappear when energy fades. It learns that it is safe to begin again.

So the next time you do not feel like doing the thing you set out to do, pause. Take a breath.

Return to the present moment.

Let yourself move on without judgment.

Then begin again when you can.

Here is a simple guide to help you return to devotion and discipline.

Closing

I do not know when I will do my first pull-up. Right now, I can barely hang for sixty seconds.

But I do know this: when my thoughts get in the way, I will remain devoted by pausing, breathing, and returning to the present moment. I will stay committed to the process. And when I am interrupted, I will return without shame. And when that moment comes, I promise to return to share the story of my first pull-up.

Here is my invitation to you.

Pick something small, meaningful, or quietly important. Let devotion keep you connected to the why. Let discipline guide you back to the how. And when you arrive, in your own time and in your own way, share your story.

You are now welcome into the Tinfash healing space, where I will share the Devotion Jar practice and the Tinfash 5C. Simple tools to support your journey of devotion, discipline, and return.

Tinfash: Dr. Kidi’s Healing Space: 
This healing space is called Tinfash, the Amharic word for breath. Because breath is the most faithful practice we have. 
You do not have to remember it.
 You do not have to do it well. 
It keeps returning.

Let your practice be like breath. Steady. Forgiving. Alive.

A Moment for Meditation

The Devotion Jar

This practice builds devotion through attention.

What you need

A medium jar, sticky notes, and a pen.

Place them somewhere you will see each day.

How to practice

Choose one consistent time, morning or evening.

Each day, write two things:

• One short line about why you want to care for yourself today

• One small action that would support you right now (something under five minutes)

Do the action. Then fold the note and place it in the jar.

Over time, the jar becomes visible proof of devotion. Not promises. Not perfection. Evidence that you responded to yourself again and again.

Tinfash 5 C Reset

This practice builds discipline through structure.

How to use it

1. Pause: Stop and interrupt the rush.

2. Close your eyes: Turn attention inward.

3. Count your breath: Take three slow breaths.

4. Create distance: Notice the urge or tension without acting immediately.

5. Center: Ask, What would support my body right now? Then choose one small action.

The 5 C Reset gives the body a reliable rhythm. It helps you slow down, listen, and respond instead of react.

A Journal Invitation
Writing by hand helps you slow down and listen more closely. It connects your thoughts to your body and invites honesty without the need to edit. This kind of presence supports deep healing. Your words do not need to be perfect. They only need to be yours. Let your words arrive just as they are.

Begin with this line:

Today, the practice I can return to is ______.

Notice what feels realistic.

Notice what feels kind.

Let your body guide the answer.

A Healing Mantra
Mantras are healing because they steady the nervous system. They interrupt spiraling thoughts and help your body feel safe enough to soften.
Choose a quiet moment. 
Sit, stand, or lie down. 
Take one slow breath in and a gentle breath out.
Repeat the mantra softly, out loud or in your mind. 
Let it move with your breath. 

I return to myself with care, patience, and trust.

A Call to Action

As a doctor and a fellow human, so much of what I know about healing has come from meaningful exchanges with people like you. Our shared stories and quiet beginnings teach me again and again that there is wisdom in simply starting.

I would love to hear your thoughts about beginning again.

I am here for you.

I am also here to grow alongside you.

If you have suggestions, ideas, or requests, share them in the comments. You can also jot down your reflections and send me a screenshot.

If you feel moved, review, rate, and share this with a friend who may be ready to reconnect with their own healing.

Visit drkidi.com for more reflections from What Healing Knows.

Follow @drkidi.healing to join a community learning to return to themselves, one gentle moment at a time.

To read my short stories go to Substack @drkidi.

With that, we have begun our healing connection.

Until next time,

Embrace the journey. Keep listening. Healing knows the way.

Love and more love, 

Dr. Kidi

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