Musings
10 April 2026
You’ve been taught to believe that presence means doing something interesting.
Standing on one leg and trying not to wobble feels ordinary. It doesn’t look like much on a screen. There’s no peak, no twist, no backbend that takes your breath away. Just you, one leg, and the quiet question of whether you can stay.
We live in a world that rewards performance. Even in yoga — you should be here, but you should also be getting better. Your tree should have more stability this week. Your heart should open more. Your chakras should be balancing. The body becomes something you’re working at, something you’re optimising, something you’re trying to be better at.
I’ve watched myself do this. Stand in Tree Pose and count how long I can go. Notice how I’m wobbling more than last time. Compare my line of sight to someone else who seems to have found their centre. Check my phone afterwards and wonder what happened to the thirty minutes I spent on my practice.
The body is speaking when you’re there. It’s just not what we’ve been taught to listen for.
Tree Pose asks you to stand. Not to achieve. Not to transcend. Just to stand.
One foot planted. The other resting gently at your ankle, knee, or hip. Hands at your heart or rising slowly above your head. Breath moving naturally.
And then: what happens?
Your nervous system makes a decision, many times in those moments, about whether it is safe to rest. If you’re still on your toes, still looking for the next thing, still trying to be more present than you are — your body knows. It knows you’re treating yourself like a project. It knows you’re waiting for the moment when you’ll finally arrive somewhere.
Some days the most radical thing you can do is stand still.
Feel your foot. Not to control it. Just to meet it. The little adjustments your body makes. The micro-movements of balance. The way your centre finds you when you stop looking for it. The ground holding you more than you hold yourself.
This is not about balance in the way the Instagram world uses the word. This is about presence in the way your body needs it. Standing in your own life without performing it. Being ordinary in the way that feels most like home.
The root chakra is often described as grounding, as stability, as survival. But here’s what I’ve come to understand after twenty years of practice and a lot of time on one leg: it’s about belonging. It’s about the feeling, many times a day, of being exactly where you are instead of where you think you should be.
Tree Pose is a conversation with that belonging. With the part of you that knows you don’t need to improve anything to be worthy of this moment. With the part that wants to stand and be held instead of standing and trying to be perfect.
Some people find their first chakra when they’re running, when they’re pushing through. That’s valid. That’s their path.
But for some of us, the way back is through the most ordinary thing possible. Standing still. Not moving. Not arriving. Just being exactly where your body already is.
That’s the practice. That’s the grounding. That’s the place where you belong.
The tree doesn’t worry about whether it’s growing fast enough. It doesn’t compare its branches to other trees. It just stands, day after day, root after root, holding what it can hold and releasing what needs to fall away.
Stand. Breathe. Let the ground hold you. That’s enough.