the truth in my truth

"the sounding foam of primal things"


in the yoga classes i take, and even in those i now teach (frighteningly enough!), students are reminded to live yoga is to live with integrity to one's truth. the subjectivity of truth is thereby acknowledged obviously, and yet subtly, without room or reason for contestation...the multiplicity of "truth" as it exists has fascinated me for as long as i can remember, when i realized that the way in which i experience something, even my family, is very different from the way in which someone else (other family members included in the case of my example) might...it's sort of this mind-bending, potentially heavy existential question and i don't mean to make this into a post that bores or goes too much into abstractions for people to follow a really very simple idea... but i've been wondering a lot about this notion of truth lately and, inspired by the ferocious swells of the foamy, frothing ocean today, decided to share this fantastic carl sandberg poem and a photo of the fierceness (above)...


Who Am I?

by Carl Sandburg


My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading "Keep Off."


My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.

~~~

truth is all around us, within us, and yet IT cannot be captured, only interpreted subjectively and guessed at...yet it's real. how is this so?