“If we take something to be the truth, we may cling to it so much that when the truth comes and knocks on our door, we won't want to let it in." Thich Nhat Hanh
Most of us think of ourselves as being honest, but studies show that distorting the truth—from intentionally lying to others to creating our own internal self-deceptions—is incredibly common. If we sum up all the evidence on lying, it’s clear that humans lie on a regular basis. Of course, there are degrees of severity related to lying. We need only to watch current events to witness the destructive power of distorting the truth—citizens are displaced, people die, and countries are destroyed. Most of us find lying on this scale reprehensible. But many of our brain processes, those cognitive capacities that define us as humans, also make us vulnerable to lying. Life is full of harsh realities. The truth frequently hurts so we use distortion and deception to soften the sharp edges of life. And in many ways, the complex social connections we make as humans are, at times, greased by well-intended deceptions. From telling a child that her dry, inedible cookies are “delicious” to reassuring a friend that she will survive a tragedy, it is hard for us to be in relationships and be completely honest. Lying can smooth out the harsh edges of life.
Satya, the second of Patanjali’s Yamas, asks us to consider how our words impact others. To understand Satya, it is important to keep in mind that it comes directly after Ahimsa, or nonharming. The word “Sat” in Sanskrit means that which exists or has real existence, translated in English as “truth”. The positioning of Satya after Ahimsa emphasizes how these two practices strengthen and support each other. Truthfulness buttresses the compassion of Ahimsa, providing substance and support to the practice of nonharming, taking it beyond being a passive cop-out or simply feeling sorry for others. And Ahimsa acts as a powerful filter for our words, keeping them from being weapons, as truthfulness always abdicates to the principle of “do no harm”.
For guidance on how to speak the truth in a way that respects the principle of nonharming, we can turn to the Sufi poet Rumi, and apply an adaptation of his Gates of Speech. Rumi proposed that all words must pass through three gates before they are spoken. Is it true? If what we are about to say is an accurate reflection of reality, then our words can pass through the next gate. Is it necessary? Rumi reminds us that our words should contribute to another’s well-being and growth, otherwise it is prudent to remain silent. The final gate filters the tone in which we deliver our message. Words can be weapons that create just as much, if not more, harm than a physical blow. If the truth cannot be said in a kind way, we always bow to Ahmisa, choosing to stay silent. Let’s take a deeper dive into each of the Gates of Speech.
The first gate of speech, “Is it true?”, should be the most difficult passage through which speech passes, but without a vigilant sentry, a great deal of fiction slips through undetected. Truth is elusive; it is obscured in our beliefs, opinions and judgments, which makes it hard for us to see clearly. The human capacity to develop a rich and diverse language has helped us build complex social connections, but these very same abilities make us vulnerable to delusion. We identify with the contents of our minds so strongly that it is difficult to distinguish between our judgments and objective reality. Humans can think in symbols, so we frequently jumble reality with judgments, biases, and opinions. We wind up creating our own version of reality, one that confuses our perceptions with what is true. Memories also cloud our perception. Although some parts of our memories are true, overall, they are not real, but rather alterations of past experiences that we form into a narrative. They can provide perspective but are not representative of the present moment. Plans and expectations for the future also distort reality. We also create predictions about the future and then cling to them, seeing only those parts of reality that support our hopes, dreams, plans, and expectations. The cognitive capacities that make humans unique can also make us prisoners to our own distortions and self-deceptions. Satya can free us from this prison.
How can we be sure that we are on the side of truth? Satya comes from deep within us. It is an inner knowing that resonates and can be believed without a shadow of a doubt. In daily life, truth requires that we pay attention, clean off our lens to the world, and look to see the reality of our situation. Typically, we know the truth when we see it because it is rarely an easy choice. Satya demands vigilance to look for what we are not seeing and the courage to let go of firmly held beliefs when we are called to do so. Truth rarely sits in full view; it is found in that dark territory of uncertainty. How willing are you to challenge your most fundamental beliefs?
The second gate asks us to examine our reasons for speaking. Even if something is true, is it necessary to say it? This gate asks us to consider the impact of our words. Will they offer support and growth, or do they have the potential to be a weapon? Whereas the first gate is straightforward in its search for truth, the second gate is more nuanced, asking us to consider what value our words will add to a situation or to a person’s life. The truth can hurt, especially when someone is not ready to hear what we need to say. Satya reminds us that if speaking the truth does not help someone to heal or to grow then it is best to remain silent.
There is another consideration related to necessity, which can be thought of as a third gate, and is related to timing. We may determine it is necessary to speak the truth, but is it the right time? Truth can be a weapon if it is hurled at us when least expected or if we are not in the right state of mind to hear it. A woman once shared with me a story about her divorce. She was backstage in an auditorium about to address a large audience at a prestigious university when she was served divorce papers. She had known for months that her marriage was ending, but her husband’s timing of serving the papers before an important career-defining event cut like a sword. She was shocked and disoriented, and struggled to find her footing throughout the lecture. Prior to serving those papers their relationship had been amicable, but from that point on it was bitter and nasty. Twenty years later she still feels the pain of that moment. Truth lands more softly when it is delivered at the right time. Satya reminds us to hold truth with great care and respect, presenting it with an appreciation of its power to transform or destroy.
The last gate is the final checkpoint our words must pass through before they can be spoken. At this gate we ask if the truth can be said in a kind way. Satya always pays homage to Ahimsa, so we must choose our words carefully; if we cannot speak the truth with kindness and compassion, we should remain silent. Words spoken harshly, no matter how truthful, are unconstructive. When we struggle to deliver the truth with kindness, Satya advises us to take a pause and search our language for ways to deliver our message with respect and compassion. How we talk to others reflects how we speak to ourselves. Difficulty finding kind words frequently reflects a tendency toward harshness in our self-talk. Listen to the words you use in your internal dialogues; they will uncover how you treat yourself and your capacity for self-compassion.
Carl Jung once said, “A lie would make no sense unless the truth was felt to be dangerous.” The truth does not always show us what we want to see; it is uncomfortable, sometimes harsh, and frequently a bitter pill to swallow. But truth has weight, a density that keeps us tethered to reality. Although hard to hold, the truth makes us stronger with time, offering a deep sense of connection and joy. Distorting reality, through lying or self-deception, offers a fleeting sense of satisfaction, but it is a type of happiness that has shallow roots. With deception we avoid the heaviness of truth, but it comes at the price of deep insecurity which is certain to make us miserable over time. Satya asks a great deal from us; it is a daily practice of questioning our version of reality. The effort for Satya is great, but the rewards are long lasting. Do we have the vigilance required of this practice? More importantly, do we have the courage to face the truth?
On a side note:
Our phones are one of the primary contributors to poor posture. Endless hours looking down at our phones have created a condition referred to as “text neck syndrome”, an injury to the neck that is caused by keeping the head in a forward position for extended periods of time. Overuse of our Smartphones keeps us hunched over for up to four hours a day as we check email, read the newspaper, send texts, or visit social media sites. Use of our devices keeps our heads poking forward with our upper back hunched and shoulders rolled in for extended periods of time. Text neck syndrome places tremendous strain on the ligaments in the neck, which increases with each minute we keep the head in this position. Studies show that every two to four hours spent looking at your Smartphone creates a force that is equivalent to carrying an 8-year-old around on your neck.
I point out text neck syndrome for two reasons. First, our Smartphones are a vital source of information in our virtual world. They are an important source of connection, offering resources that can provide responsible sources of information. But they are also a hot bed of misinformation, deception, and misrepresentation. They can bring us closer to the truth or lead us astray. Secondly, in yoga, the region from the center of the sternum up to the underside of our chin is an area corresponding to our capacity to communicate; specifically, it is an area related to our willingness to speak the truth. I find it interesting that overuse of our Smartphones creates neck strain and postural dysfunction while closing off a region related to expression of the truth. I will leave you with that information to ponder.
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