Why We Can’t “Fix” People (or Cars) Like We Used To
There was a time when a curious teenager with a wrench could bring an old car back to life. You didn’t need a computer science degree or a proprietary diagnostic tool—just some mechanical intuition and a few spare parts. Cars used to be accessible. Understandable. You could literally see how things worked.
Now? Pop the hood on a modern vehicle and you’re met with a maze of sensors, computers, emission systems, and sealed components. Most of us wouldn’t know where to begin. And even the best mechanics sometimes can’t fix what they can’t see—because complexity has outpaced clarity.
This isn’t just an automotive issue.
It’s a human issue.
From Simplicity to Complexity
The earliest automobiles were marvels of mechanical ingenuity—but they were also relatively straightforward. You could follow the flow of air, fuel, and spark. Replacing a carburetor or timing belt wasn’t easy, but it was possible. Over time, as we asked more of our vehicles—better performance, lower emissions, smoother rides—we layered in electronics, sensors, software, and automation.
The result? Greater capability—but far less transparency.
Humans followed a similar arc. We once believed in clear-cut causes of illness: bacteria, trauma, deficiencies. But as our understanding deepened, so did our awareness of complexity. Now, we know the body is an ecosystem—an intricate dance between genetics, environment, lifestyle, microbiomes, stress, movement, and emotion.
We’ve gone from mechanical to multidimensional.
And just like with cars, the “check engine” light in our bodies doesn’t always tell us what’s really wrong.
When Complexity Defies Logic
If your car’s warning light comes on, you plug in a scanner and hope the error code is accurate. But sometimes the code doesn’t match the problem—or only shows part of it. The issue might be upstream, downstream, or buried in software logic that even the engineers don’t fully understand.
Human health is no different.
You wake up exhausted. You can’t focus. Your joints ache. You’ve been to three specialists. Your labs look normal. You’re told you’re aging, depressed, or “just stressed.” Maybe you are—but maybe your nervous system is dysregulated. Or your gut lining is inflamed. Or your genes don’t detox efficiently. Or your mitochondria are under siege from chronic inflammation and environmental overload.
We are complex systems inside complex systems. And fixing a human isn’t like swapping out a spark plug anymore—if it ever really was.
So What Do We Do?
We start by recognizing a fundamental truth: complex systems require complex thinking. The old models of diagnosis and repair—whether in the garage or the clinic—are becoming less effective not because we’ve become worse at fixing things, but because we’re still trying to use tools and mental models built for a simpler time.
Here’s how we evolve:
1. Shift from Linear to Systems Thinking
In both machines and medicine, the question is no longer “What part is broken?” but “How are the systems interacting?”
A faulty oxygen sensor in a car might be a symptom, not the root. Likewise, high blood pressure might not just be “too much salt”—it could be tied to sleep apnea, emotional trauma, metabolic dysfunction, or chronic inflammation.
Systems thinking means we stop playing whack-a-mole with symptoms and start seeking patterns, context, and connections.
2. Embrace the Role of Context
Every car has a VIN, a history, a maintenance record. You wouldn’t fix a work truck the same way you would a race car or a vintage convertible.
Humans are no different. Two people can present the same symptom but require wildly different interventions based on their genetics, lifestyle, environment, or trauma history.
Context personalizes care. It reminds us there’s no universal fix—only individualized solutions.
3. Upgrade the Diagnostic Toolbox
Plugging into a car’s onboard computer only gives you what the computer can read. But what if the problem is deeper—beyond the sensors?
The same applies to medicine. Basic blood panels, outdated norms, and 10-minute appointments miss the nuance. We need:
Wearable tech for real-time biofeedback
Functional labs for hormone rhythm, detox capacity, nutrient absorption
Genetic and epigenetic insights
Tools that assess how the nervous system processes stress, pain, and input
Without better tools, we’re just guessing.
4. Prioritize Maintenance, Not Just Repair
Modern vehicles come with service schedules—oil changes, tire rotations, diagnostics—long before they break down. Why don’t we do the same for ourselves?
Resilience is built through routine, not rescue.
Movement, sleep, light exposure, nutrient-rich food, emotional processing, breathwork—these aren’t just wellness buzzwords. They’re system-stabilizers. The human equivalent of changing your oil and checking your alignment.
5. Stay Curious and Humble
The deeper we go, the more we realize: we don’t know everything. Even the most advanced AI can’t predict every car malfunction—and the most brilliant doctor can’t map every interaction inside a human body.
Complexity isn’t a flaw. It’s a feature. But it demands humility.
That means collaboration across fields. Open-mindedness. Willingness to say, “I don’t know, but I’ll keep looking.”
And most importantly: we must stop pretending simple answers work for complex beings.
6. Redefine What “Fixed” Means
You may never return a modern car to factory-new condition. But that doesn’t mean it can’t run beautifully. The same is true for people.
Sometimes, healing means full remission. Sometimes, it means less pain, more function, deeper energy, better sleep, more joy.
Success isn’t perfection—it’s adaptability.
It’s the body learning how to respond to stress again. It’s the nervous system finding safety. It’s you feeling more like you.
Final Thought: We’re Not Broken—We’re Complex
Maybe we haven’t made ourselves too complicated to fix. Maybe we’ve simply reached the point where true solutions require a new paradigm: one built on connection, not correction.
In the end, we don’t need more mechanics or more medicine.
We need more systems thinkers—people who can hold the whole, not just the parts.
Because healing, like a well-tuned engine, isn’t about force.
It’s about understanding, support, and allowing the system to recalibrate itself.
