Truth: Leads to Effortless Writing

The Light of the Soul, a book by Alice A. Bailey first published in 1927, is a paraphrase of the ancient Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. It’s meant to guide a meditation practitioner from intellect to illumination—each sutra building on the last. Yet, I’ve always read it nonlinearly.

The text offers a commentary that bridges Eastern and Western philosophies. Its unique legacy lies in uniting three of the world’s great religions—Christianity, Hinduism, and Judaism—rather than dividing them. I know this from the resonance it has brought into my own life.

Once, while reading Light of the Soul, I began to experience something metaphysical. The world around me took on a different hue as if seen through a softened movie camera lens that blurred imperfections. I lifted my gaze briefly and noticed a man behind my car in a parking lot, pushing a janitor’s cart—an image that felt strikingly out of place, especially so early in the day.

I returned to the book while the radio played a song, meditating on time—time as a construct, as a mortal wound, as life without you. The refrain of “Time. Time. Time.” mingled with the text’s talk of awakening to oneness and timelessness. Soon, the uncanny synchronicity faded, leaving me with that familiar letdown after each fleeting lesson.

Just yesterday, I had a similar experience. While helping a client, I shared my own history of feeling bullied—times when I desperately tried to hide or escape the pain. Something inside me has shifted now. I still notice those old patterns, but I see them differently, as if my inner lens has softened, making life feel a bit easier.

I find it endlessly fascinating how my writing flows only when I’m true to myself. When I hold back or try to force a certain way of speaking, the words dry up. Authenticity, I’ve discovered, is the key to writing in the flow. When I think of truth in its purest form, I’m reminded of the five commandments—Yama—as set forth in ancient teachings. These aren’t merely rules; they’re invitations to align with a deeper way of being. Harmlessness, truth to all beings, abstention from theft, incontinence, and avarice form the ethical foundation that, as part of the eight limbs of Yoga, guides us toward a life of authenticity and inner freedom.

It’s truth—Satya—that speaks most profoundly to me. Not just honesty in words but a truth that seeps from the very core of our being. When we let this truth shine, our inner light spills onto the page, and our words flow with effortless grace. I’ve noticed that when I’m true to myself, there’s no barrier or filter to dampen the message. It’s as if the words learn to dance on their own, guided by the steady, unyielding force of authenticity.

Embracing truth is like clearing away the debris of self-doubt and pretension. Much like the yogic practice of aligning body, mind, and spirit, allowing truth to guide our speech means that every word becomes a reflection of a life lived in harmony. This is the heart of the five commandments—a practice meant not only to perfect our relationships with others but also to elevate us to a state of oneness with the higher aspects of our soul.

In those moments when my writing feels genuine, unburdened by expectation, it’s as though I’ve transcended the physical and entered a realm where truth and beauty are inseparable. There is a quiet strength in letting go, in allowing truth to soften the edges of our thoughts and feelings until they resonate purely with the world.

So here’s to truth—the vibrant pulse that gives our words life. Through truth, our writing becomes a bridge, uniting the ancient wisdom of the eight limbs of Yoga with the ever-evolving tapestry of our modern lives. Embracing this truth allows not only our creativity but our very essence to shine through, inviting us all to live more fully, love more deeply, and write more authentically.