Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote: "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." Rachel Remen, M.D., has spent much of her 40-year medical career helping patients and doctors find their why. A colleague of mine at the University of California, San Francisco, and founder of the Institute for the Study of Health and Illness, she has been a pioneer of integrative medicine, exploring the powerful ways in which our emotional, mental and spiritual states may directly affect our health. Dr. Remen is also the author of the best sellers "Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories That Heal" and "My Grandfather's Blessings: Stories of Strength, Refuge, and Belonging" (both from Riverhead Books). I spoke to her recently about how understanding and pursuing what matters most to us can help to heal both body and soul. Excerpts:

Dean Ornish: There is a lot of suffering in the world right now, and it's experienced on so many different levels—a lot of edginess, anxiety and fear. You often describe how suffering can be a catalyst for transforming our lives. In what ways?
Rachel Remen: Very negative experiences, including anxiety and fear, have the potential to cause us to question the way we've been living. They're a wake-up call. They make people think more deeply about things and ask themselves questions like: What's important? What really matters? How do I want to spend my time, my money, my energy? How do I live more deliberately according to the things that are important to me? Just a very simple two-word question—"What matters?"—can change your life and the lives of people around you.

Why?
Because most of us live by habit. We often spend our time and energy on things that, if we were to ask ourselves, "Is this really important to me?" the answer would be, "Not very." But we don't usually ask ourselves this question. We're not living our lives closest to what has meaning and passion and value for us.

Why not?
We get distracted. There are lots of pressures in life. We're multitasking a lot of the time. Many of us have become disheartened or depressed. We tend to want to numb ourselves out rather than go deep inside and find the well of renewal that is in every person. We spend a lot of time in front of the television set, maybe we tie one on over the weekend. And we're often looking for comfort rather than renewal, and those are two different things.

What's the difference?
Comfort is a temporary Band-Aid. But whatever you are trying to numb yourself from usually comes back. Renewal is healing. If you go deep within and look to live your life with greater integrity, closer to your genuine and authentic values, according to what is really true for you, then you permanently diminish the pain. You don't just numb it temporarily. Food is one of the ways we numb ourselves. Or we drink too much, or we go from relationship to relationship, constantly seeking something new.

A patient once told me, "When I get depressed, I eat a lot of fat—it coats my nerves and numbs the pain. It fills the void." Another said, "I've got 20 friends in this package of cigarettes. They're always there for me; nobody else is."
In the effort to heal our pain, we often numb it so we don't look at our lives. The real healing comes from asking ourselves what really matters and having the courage to let go of what doesn't matter and take hold of what does.

When people are diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, they often realize this, as well.
Yes. There is a moment of clarity where you know what's important to you. And it often isn't the way you've been living your life but something different than that. I've worked for years with people who have cancer, listening to their stories—the view from the edge of life is a lot clearer than most of us have.

In all those years, nobody ever said to me, "If I die of this disease, I'm going to miss my Mercedes." What really matters is who you've touched on your way through life, who has touched you and cared deeply, and what you're leaving behind you in the hearts and lives of those around you. We're so busy that we may not be present in our own lives. We don't see. We don't connect. And it's all here in front of us. Many are starving in the midst of plenty.