One of the indicators of a proficient physician is the capability to examine illness from two complementary perspectives. We apply scientific knowledge, training, and objectivity to grasp what is occurring within the body. However, that is just the beginning. What genuinely elevates a clinician is the readiness to acknowledge how the patient perceives their illness, the internal story that no laboratory test can quantify.
This dual perspective is not exclusive to medicine. It serves as a framework for how human relationships operate. Whether we consider marriages, families, workplaces, or entire communities, much of our discord arises from disregarding the subjective experiences of the individuals before us. We might inhabit the same space, yet reside in very distinct inner realms.
Nowadays, we discuss neurodiversity (conditions on the autism spectrum, ADHD, anxiety disorders, emotional hyperreactivity, and other cognitive variations) more candidly. Some claim we are “overdiagnosing,” but in reality, these differences are genuine, observable, and profoundly impactful. They influence how individuals communicate, manage emotions, and perceive others’ intentions.
Imagine a common situation: an emotionally expressive partner with anxiety or ADHD attempting to connect with a loved one on the autism spectrum, who interprets information more literally and less intuitively. Neither individual is incorrect. Neither lacks capability. They are simply constructed differently. Yet, without recognizing these internal distinctions, misunderstandings proliferate.
In medicine, we quickly learn that objectivity alone suffices. In life, harmony is unattainable without embracing neurological and emotional diversity. The Bahá’í writings illustrate this with a metaphor: “Ye are all the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch.” Unity does not abolish difference; it offers difference a place.
Genuine unity necessitates a framework that facilitates individuals to listen to one another without defensiveness. In my own practice and during Bahá’í consultation, I witness the strength of a process where ideas can safely conflict while individuals maintain respect. When that framework is absent, therapy, counseling, and at times biological interventions become vital supports, tools that enable individuals to reconnect with one another.
If we are committed to diminishing conflict, whether in households or communities, we must acknowledge both our shared humanity and our diverse minds. Medicine already teaches us this lesson. The body flourishes not through uniformity but through coordinated diversity. Relationships do as well. Once we regard one another as “leaves of one branch,” the endeavor of bridging neurological differences becomes not only feasible; it integrates into our shared healing.
*Farid Sabet-Sharghi is a psychiatrist.*