I treat my body like a temple.

The temple image usually gets read as grandeur: marble, reverence, nothing unclean permitted through the door. Anyone who has spent real time near one knows the daily reality is a person with a broom, doing the same unremarkable round before anybody arrives.

That's the useful half. Maintenance, repeated, largely unwitnessed. Sleep. Water. The stretch you do while the kettle boils.

Reverence without upkeep is only an opinion about yourself. And upkeep, kept up long enough, tends to produce the reverence anyway. It's difficult to sweep a place every day without gradually starting to treat it as somewhere that matters.