The Apple Within: Healing Beneath the Surface

Today’s yoga practice: looking beyond the surface

During my yoga practice today, I invited my yogis to consider the simple wisdom held within an apple.

An apple has three parts: the skin on the outside, the flesh underneath, and the core in the middle.

In our society, we often focus most on what’s on the outside. We notice how people look, how strong or successful they seem, and how well they appear to handle life. It’s easy to make quick judgments based on what we see.

Yet the outside tells only a small part of the story.

Under the skin is the flesh. It might be healthy and firm, or it might have bruises you can’t see from the outside. In the same way, people can look fine while carrying pain, fear, grief, illness, or exhaustion inside.

I know this well because I live with metastatic cancer.

Most days, I look healthy. I teach yoga, walk, travel, spend time with family and friends, write, speak, and keep building a meaningful life. Someone meeting me might never guess I have stage IV breast cancer.

On the outside, I may seem strong and full of life, but my body has been through a lot.

I’ve had surgeries, treatments, side effects, fractures, and moments of fear and uncertainty. There are parts of my story you can’t see just by looking at me. This is true for many people with cancer or other chronic illnesses. We might look well, but that doesn’t mean our bodies haven’t been hurt.

It also does not mean we are broken.

I don’t see myself as fighting cancer. I understand that battle language helps some people, but it’s not how I choose to live.

For me, this is about healing.

I try to work with my body, not see it as a battlefield. I support it with treatment, movement, good food, rest, mindfulness, speaking up for myself, and compassion. I pay close attention to what my body needs. Some days it wants to move; other days, it needs to slow down.

Healing does not always mean curing. Healing can mean tending to the whole person while living with what cannot currently be removed.

It can mean caring for your body, calming your mind, making room for your feelings, nurturing your spirit, and still finding meaning and joy.

Then there is the core of the apple.

The core isn’t usually the part people admire. It’s not shiny or on display. But it holds the seeds and the possibility for growth, renewal, and new life.

My own core has grown stronger through the mindful work I do each day.

I build my core when I focus on my breath instead of letting fear take over. I make it stronger when I face tough emotions but don’t let them shape my whole day. I strengthen it when I choose hope, even while being honest about what’s uncertain.

Meditation, yoga, gratitude, journaling, prayer, time in nature, and connecting with others all help me come back to my center.

These things don’t erase cancer. They remind me that cancer isn’t all of who I am.

At my core, I am still Betty Jean.

I’m a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, educator, author, yoga teacher, and a woman who keeps growing. I’ve known fear and still choose life. My body has been bruised, but my center is still rooted in love, purpose, and possibility.

The theory of the apple is also a reminder to look at others with greater compassion.

We don’t know what someone else is carrying inside. The person who seems distant might be grieving. The one who looks strong could be exhausted. Someone who seems healthy might be living with illness. Even a smiling person could be struggling to hold it together.

A little more kindness can make a difference.

We also need to extend that compassion toward ourselves. We do not need to appear perfect or pretend that nothing hurts. Our tender places are not weaknesses. They are part of being human.

The world might notice our outer layer first, but that’s not where our deepest strength is.

Our strength lives in our core.

It shows up in the quiet choices we make every day. It’s in how we care for ourselves when no one is watching. It’s in our willingness to heal, to grow, and to keep planting seeds of hope.

Today, I invite you to look past the surface.

Honour your outer layer, care gently for the parts that feel bruised, and keep coming back to your core.

That’s where your truth lives.

That’s where your strength grows.

That’s where possibility begins.