The Thing About Getting Sick

You know that moment when you first feel it coming. The slight scratch in your throat. The barely-there heaviness behind your eyes. The faint suspicion that your body is about to betray you.

Most of us respond the same way: denial, followed by panic, followed by a frantic scramble for vitamin C, zinc lozenges, and whatever wellness trend promised immunity this month.

But here's what Ayurveda knows that the supplement aisle doesn't: immunity isn't something you can bolt on at the last minute. It's not a product you purchase or a protocol you follow when you feel the tickle starting. It's a state of being that you cultivate, day by day, season by season.

The ancient texts call it Ojas—the nutrient cream of the body. Picture it as a subtle, milky film that coats every tissue, every cell, creating a barrier between you and everything that wants to take you down. It's built slowly, over time, from food that's been properly digested, from sleep that's deep and restorative, from a life that doesn't constantly ask your body to choose between surviving and thriving.

When you have Ojas, you walk into a room full of coughing, sniffling people and walk out unscathed. Not because you're special. Not because you got lucky. But because your body is robust enough, refreshed enough, resilient enough to handle the exposure.

The problem is that most of us are running on empty.

We're dried out from indoor heat and outdoor cold. We're depleted from irregular sleep and constant stimulation. We're eating foods that might technically be healthy but don't actually nourish us—cold smoothies and raw salads in the dead of winter, astringent green juices when what our bodies are begging for is warmth and substance.

And then we wonder why we keep getting sick.

Here's the shift: stop thinking about immunity as a battle you need to win and start thinking about it as a garden you need to tend.

In winter, that garden needs moisture. Your nasal passages need oil. Your lungs need the gentle coating that licorice tea provides. Your skin—that magnificent barrier between you and the world—needs to be treated like the protective organ it is, fed with warm oil and kept supple.

Your digestive system needs foods that build rather than strip: warm broths and stews, nuts and seeds, dates and warming spices. Milk that's been gently warmed and spiced with cinnamon and ginger, not because it's trendy but because it creates the kind of deep nourishment that becomes Ojas.

The beauty of the Ayurvedic approach is that it doesn't ask you to be perfect. It asks you to be consistent. It asks you to notice. When you start to feel dried out, add moisture. When you feel depleted, add substance. When you feel vulnerable, create barriers—oil on the skin, oil in the nose, warmth around the throat.

It's not complicated. It's not expensive. It doesn't require special equipment or hard-to-find ingredients. It just requires you to remember that your body is not a machine that occasionally breaks down and needs fixing. It's a living system that needs tending.

So the next time you feel that first tickle, before you reach for the emergency supplements, ask yourself: Have I been tending the garden? Have I been building resilience, or have I been hoping I can get away with running on fumes just a little bit longer?

Because here's the truth: some pathogens are stronger than others. Some exposures are unavoidable. Some seasons are harder than others.

But when you have Ojas—when your body is robust and refreshed and resilient—you don't need to fight so hard. You don't need to panic. You just need to keep tending the garden.

The rest takes care of itself.