Reuven Donin was a man who did things all the way.

Raised in the traditional Jewish environment of pre-independence Jerusalem, he left his studies as a teenager to go live on a kibbutz and work the land. A tough youngster, full of energy and uncompromising chutzpah (which earned him quite a reputation), he would compensate for his grueling days of labor with long nights of partying with fellow rebels and friends. “It was full-time life without pause,” he later recalled.

However, during the long hours on his tractor, alone with nature, “I would think a lot about the world; I would ask questions and search for answers.” Over time he was introduced to the teachings of Chasidut, and he began to study it seriously. Being the uncompromising character that he was, in 1958 he left his native country and went to the Rebbe’s yeshiva in New York. There he dedicated all of his energy to immersive study and self-refinement, and he developed a close personal bond with the Rebbe.

One night, Donin entered the Rebbe’s study for an audience in an emotionally charged state. He sat down and passionately exclaimed, “Rebbe, I can’t take the struggles of life! I just want to stay here in this room forever…. I just can’t anymore….”

The response was not what he was expecting.

“Did you eat properly today?” the Rebbe asked.

When Donin answered in the negative, the Rebbe instructed him to go eat immediately, and counseled him on the general importance of taking care of his body and the impact it would have on his emotions. He then gave him detailed guidance for what he should do daily to properly care for his bodily health.

Over the next few months, when the Rebbe would see Donin, he would often ask him whether and what he was eating, how long he was sleeping (reminding him of Maimonides’ ruling that a person should sleep between six and eight hours a night1), and whether he was taking walks and getting fresh air between his hours of study. Of course, Donin began making it a point to do all of these things.

Donin later married, built a family, and, alongside the Chasidic lifestyle he had adopted, went back to working the land on his tractor. However, people—especially young people—gravitated to his fiery personality and would consult with him about their existential or emotional dilemmas. It was to them he would tell this story to impart the message that sometimes, under a heap of emotional turmoil, there might simply be a neglected body…2

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Intuitively we might assume that toxic or depressive thoughts result from the emotional aspects of our lives. Family dynamics, childhood trauma, or social rejection are some of the factors we might consider, and for good reason. However, in our search for deeper insight, we may overlook the practical details of our daily lives.

A recurring theme in the Rebbe’s counseling is that every person has basic mundane needs on which their mental health depends, and deprived of these necessities, their psyche suffers. Disturbing thoughts and emotions, even when they take a seemingly profound turn, can actually be symptoms of neglecting those simple needs that are the framework for stable mental health.

In this chapter we will explore four such needs. We’ve already touched on the topic of physical self-care (in Reuven Donin’s story). The other three necessities are: an occupation, a schedule, and social engagement.

The Need for Bodily Self-Care

At first glance it might seem that the mind—the mental and emotional faculties—and the body run on two independent tracks. Biological ailments weaken the body, and emotional stressors disrupt the spirit. Nutrients and medicines heal the body, and social, emotional, or religious interventions soothe the spirit. They seem to be two distinct fields, with two different textbooks, in two different languages.

However, the mind and body are in fact deeply interconnected. Recent studies have shown that purely psychological trauma, say, from childhood verbal abuse, manifests in alterations in brain circuitry clearly observable in brain scans.3 Conversely, studies have illustrated how positive changes in nutrition and exercise directly improve a person’s emotional health in empirically measurable ways.4

This unity of body and spirit, which is discussed at length in early Chasidic teachings,5 was a central idea in the Rebbe’s counsel.

“To a remarkable degree,” reads a letter to a 1955 medical conference,

the wellness of body is dependent on the wellness of mind. If in ancient times the medical aphorism spoke of “a healthy spirit in a healthy body” [this may refer to the Latin phrase “mens sana in corpore sano”], in our time it has become clear to what extent a small disturbance in one’s spirit causes a large disturbance in their body. Similarly, the healthier one’s spirit, the greater its control on the body and the greater its ability to mend deficiencies in the body. Indeed, we observe that many physical treatments are significantly more effective in healing the body when accompanied by the patient’s resilience, willpower, and inner strengths.6

The same is true in the reverse: the condition of our body has a direct impact on our mental and emotional state.

“It appears,” reads a letter to a middle-aged man,

that you are not properly taking care of your bodily health. Naturally, it is impossible that this won’t also affect your emotional health, as explained in the well-known teaching of the Maggid [Rabbi DovBer of Mezeritch (1704–1772), an early Chasidic master] to his son, that “a small hole in the body causes a big hole in the soul.” Therefore, if you will take my advice, you should watch your health in the most literal sense—eating, drinking, sleeping, and so on—and this will be good for you spiritually as well.7

Moshe Levertov’s adolescence in Russia was spent on the run from the Nazis, contending with hunger and illness. After being orphaned from his father, who was arrested by the Soviets and died in a Siberian gulag, he ultimately made it to the United States and developed a connection with the Rebbe. A serious and reflective individual, he would often consult with him about his inner state.

In a 1951 private audience, the Rebbe addressed the thoughts that were plaguing Levertov. The following is an excerpt from his journal:

[The Rebbe said to me:] “If you would look better physically, you would do better spiritually, too…. You should make sure to take care of your health. Your body should be rested. You should eat well. Don’t indulge in food cravings, but you should eat enough. And you should make sure to get enough sleep.”

After giving me guidance in other areas, the Rebbe concluded: “Nu, Reb Moshe, be well; it’s going to be good.” He then looked at me with a smile and continued: “In truth, it’s already good, but it will be good in a way that you’ll see it, too…”8

When counseling people to better tend to their physical health, the Rebbe would often invoke the Jewish teaching9 that your body doesn’t belong to you—it is rather entrusted to you to take care of properly. Thus, you shouldn’t view it as something that is yours to destroy or abuse at will; rather, it is a divine artifact loaned to you to sensitively care for.

“You should increase your vigor,” reads a letter to a teenager,

in watching your bodily health according to your doctor’s guidance; for the body is G‑d’s possession given to you as a deposit, and therefore it is upon you—the one it has been entrusted to—to watch the deposit, that it should be whole and healthy in the literal and physical sense.10