Rooting the Invinsible

When a typo reveals the roots we can’t see—and can’t lose

Welcome to From Scratch—where each week I share a rhythm of contemplative reflection and Yin Yoga practice. If you’re new here, start with this free Yin Yoga class to get a feel for the ground we’re working with. If you’d like to keep practicing with me, consider subscribing below.

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Last week, I taught a class called Invisible Roots. At least, that’s what I meant to call it. Instead, a typo slipped in: Invinsible. An unintended “n,” or a missing “c.”

My left brain wanted to fix it. My right brain refused. Invisible, invincible—two sides of the same coin from the unconscious. What cannot be seen cannot be destroyed: Invinsible.

That slip returned to me when a friend asked a very pragmatic question:

“My biggest barrier to a thriving yoga practice is accountability. Is there a way—without getting hokey—to bake in rewards for consistency, maybe even some nudges from peers?”

It’s a fair question. Everyone struggles with consistency in their practice, and the answers are familiar enough: the right app, practice buddies, habit trackers, online resources like this one. These things help. They’re scaffolding. They hold us upright while the structure is still being built.

But scaffolding isn’t the house. And when the scaffolding comes down, what remains depends on something deeper: a foundation.

And that’s where Earth enters.

At first glance, Earth seems the opposite of invisible—or invincible. You can’t miss it: dirt under the nails, gravity pulling bones down into the floor. Yin Yoga is simply surrendering to this force. Fascia, tendon, muscle, bone—yielding back into the planet that lent them to us. No degree required. Just assume a shape and feel the soil reclaiming you, breath by breath.

This is Earth’s visible gift: its grounding, its weight, its steady and unflagging support.

But Earth also has a twin, hidden inside the first—the invisible, invincible Earth.

This other sphere of presence, this other Earth can’t be touched or seen. It is the presence that sees, but is never itself seen. And as the body releases into gravity, this other presence surfaces, untouched by weight or time.

Pema Chödrön once wrote:

Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found.

That’s the invinsible terrain—the ground beneath the ground.

Because grief will level us. Illness will strip us. Loss will rearrange the visible soil beneath our feet. But something else endures: the root that does not rot, the ground of being itself.

Practice is where we learn to trust that.

And this is why external accountability, useful as it is, can never be enough. Apps and reminders may get us onto the mat. But only an invinsible Why keeps us there. Only the recognition that each time we lean into gravity, we compost our losses into the indestructible soil of the soul.

So yes, lean on scaffolding. But sooner or later, practice asks the more dangerous question:

What are you willing to be accountable to? Your friends? Your streak counter?

Or the invinsible Earth beneath it all?

Because in the end, that’s what practice is about: not staying loyal to scaffolding, but rooting yourself in what is, and always was, invinsible.

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✨ If this resonated with you, share it with a friend who might need a reminder of their own invinsible ground.