Letting it Land

In class today I mentioned I was moved by Krista Tippett’s recent OnBeing conversation with musician Justin Vernon, where she said, “when we trade facts, we’re ignoring the fact that truth has to land in a body.” That line landed. In my body. I was driving and without thinking my hand left the wheel and touched the part of my chest where I felt it. Simultaneously I felt my breath and my vocal cords collaborate to make sound.  Her words didn't make me think about how often we chase truth with our minds—debating, dissecting, seeking clarity through facts—while forgetting that real truth often shows up as a sensation. Instead the moment was just a knowing that settled somewhere deeper. Truth has to land in a body. Best we prepare our bodies for that.

Yoga, for me, can be a practice of preparing the ground for that landing. Eventually, it softens the edges, steadies my nervous system, and creates a kind of spaciousness where truth doesn’t just pass me by. But first it asks me to pay attention. To notice. And I do that using my body. The input and the output of my yoga practice is embodied awareness –to be aware of what I feel and where I feel it. For truth to land, I have to know how to be in my body and trust it’s resilience. This is important and sometimes difficult work. 

In yoga philosophy, Satya—truthfulness—is a foundational principle, and I believe it’s more than just the ethic of telling the truth. It’s about living it, knowing it, embodying it. Letting it land. I love yoga. The postures, the breath, my personal practice and the community practice. Yoga isn’t about performing poses the “right” way. For me, it’s about listening, watching, attending with as much loving curiosity as I would to beautiful music, poetry, a thunderstorm off shore,  —to what’s alive in my own body. Each breath and each movement becomes an invitation to uncover what is already there, what is already true. Yoga doesn’t hand me the answers, or debate the facts. It is a profound practice that prepares my being for truth.