I heed and accept my body’s message to me.

The body rarely sends sentences. It sends dull, easily ignored signals — the headache that shows up at four on every day you skip lunch, the shoulder that tightens the week before a deadline.

Heeding is the hard half. Most people hear it perfectly well and then negotiate: later, after this project, once things calm down.

Accepting means letting the message count as information rather than an inconvenience. Nothing dramatic follows. You eat at one. You stand up. The signal quiets, which was all it ever wanted.