The Practice of Truth by Bill Wofford

I have a friend and his name is truth. For real, my friend Satya’s name literally means “truth” in Sanskrit — and fittingly, he’s one of the warmest, most open-hearted people I know. Maybe there’s something to that. In yoga, satya isn’t just a name — it’s the second of the five yamas, guidelines on life and how to live it in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. 

So if I want to live a yogic life, I must not lie, is that the gist of this yama? Sure, that’s a fine place to start. But my teacher Anand suggests that Patanjali meant something deeper. What we call truth and falsehood are often so temporary and slippery that it can be hard to know what’s real. History overflows with ideas once held as absolute truth: tossing children into volcanoes will make it rain; the earth is flat; one race is superior to another. All false, all believed. 

And discerning what’s true today isn’t much easier. We live in a culture of commoditized attention—fed a constant stream of information designed to trigger our biases, outrage, or simply to distract us. It makes me wonder: how much of what I believe right now will still be true in a year? Or ten?  A lot less than 100%.

Which leads me to ask: is it really so wise to “speak my truth”? Maybe that’s just another way of saying “share my current confusion with confidence.” That’s not how it feels, of course—but I’d be kidding myself to think everything I believe is rock solid. Maybe the better practice is to pause before speaking and ask, in Quaker fashion, “Does this improve upon the silence?” (And yes, I know—the irony isn’t lost on me that I’m writing all this out loud anyway.)

So what does it mean to live in alignment with satya?  From my current, always-evolving yogic perspective, it means seeking enduring truths. It means finding moments when I can actually feel the interconnectedness of all things. Using the tools of meditation, pranayama, asana, and kriya to free myself—even if just for a moment—from the nattering nabobs of negativism ricocheting around my mind. It means holding my ideas a bit more gently, listening a bit more deeply, and allowing different perspectives to arise from within and without.

And when Anand Mehrotra and William Shakespeare agree on something, I’m inclined to listen:

“The most important practice is being truthful to yourself.”
“To thine own self be true.”

Maybe it’s not so important that I speak my truth since it might not be true and people tend to hear what they choose to hear anyway. What matters is that I live it—with humility, curiosity, and heart.  Thanks for reading, and for being part of this community that helps me keep practicing truth. I'd love to hear your perspective on all of this.