Knowing truth is not enough, Embodying the truth is.

This morning I sat quietly, asking my body, “Why do I still feel unrest, though I know so much?”

It replied, not in words, but as a slow sinking into stillness:

“Because you do not trust.”

Knowledge, I realized, is the first remedy for ignorance — it lights the path. But once the light is on and I still hesitate to walk, something subtler is missing. That something is trust — the faith that life moves toward balance when I stop forcing it.

I asked again, “Is it distraction? Is it weakness of will?”

The body answered softly, “It’s a lack of trust, not a lack of knowing.”

Just as sleep comes not by command but by surrender, healing and peace arise not from control but from confidence — the trust that the body knows, the breath knows, the Being knows.

Because knowledge without surrender is a kind of tension. The body does not like it. The body does its quiet housekeeping — repairing, digesting, balancing — without our permission or praise. Yet the mind, always flickering like a candle in the wind, demands proof, results, and meaning. Even the mind, when it is in array, kills its own body. The body never revolts against the mind.

When the mind is distracted, meditation becomes the medicine. When the mind is ignorant, knowledge helps. But when the mind knows and still trembles, what’s left is patience, faith, embodiment — the slow work of living truth rather than understanding it.

“Knowing the path is not walking the path.” — Zen saying 

“Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.” — Tagore 

“You are not the doer; you are the awareness in which doing happens.” — Bhagavad Gita. 

Today I practiced simply being with the sense of trust in my breath — not trying to calm it, not trying to deepen it. Just watching, and letting it do its ancient work. I realized: my body has been meditating all along — the pulse, the breath, the quiet repair — even when my mind forgets how.

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“The Body Replies”

When ignorance clouds the dawn,
Knowledge lights the way.
But when the lamp is burning
And I still stumble?

I asked my body,
“Why am I restless though I know?”
It whispered,
“Because you don’t believe the knowing.”

Like an insomniac who knows sleep soothes
yet fights it through the night,
I trust healing
But fear its silence.

Knowing the truth will not save you.
Be it, breathe it.
Let it settle in your bones
until even silence
feels like a song.