We All Fall Down

This week I had the wonderful fortune to escape to the woods with my yoga school classmates for a three-day intensive. Our gracious teachers led us through 10-hour days of study and practice, keeping our minds and bodies in constant motion. We covered a lot of ground in the arenas of asana, teaching methodology, and philosophy but where I saw the most progress was in the opening of our hearts to one another. We arrived at the retreat as nineteen yoga buddies and left as one family. 

This may sound dramatic, but I heartily profess that the change was dramatic both for individuals and the group. I was part of a twenty-four student cohort for four semesters in college and have worked in small offices throughout my career, yet I have never experienced anything like this. What occurred was deeper than social bonding over a mutual love of a topic or activity. It was an amazing discovery of the common threads of our human experience and a sharing of our true selves. 

It is very difficult for me to translate this experience into words. Yoga school is intense but not just because of the time commitment and the volume of knowledge there is to digest. The most challenging part is how studying the path of yoga has forced me to take a sincere look at who I am inside and the actions that I take. Why am I reacting this way? Is there a pattern in my behavior? Can I accept the things about me I don't like? Can I share the things I don't like about myself with others? Can I let go? What is my purpose? What calls to me? Can I be right here in this moment? Can I sit with this feeling? Every day I find new questions to ask myself, and when I listen honestly the answers aren't always pretty. 

On my own, I might have given up on this journey of self-discovery because I'm finding a lot of skeletons in my darkness. It has not been easy to accept that traits I have long criticized in other people are at home within me, too. It has been humbling to realize that I have just as much in common with my enemies as I do my friends. It has been extremely painful to be tender and open with those who are not yet able to offer me kindness. 

Luckily I am not on my own. Over the course of the intensive, my classmates and I were able to accelerate past the pleasantries and begin to speak wholeheartedly to each other. We listened, we cried, and we ate an embarrassing amount of chocolate. We engaged in honest conversations about ourselves, our struggles, and our fears–and we uncovered the similarities that run through our veins. We are all asking ourselves the hard questions, and while our answers might be different we are all arriving at them with authenticity and humility. 

We all face challenges. We all fall down. And as one of my classmates reminded me, we all have the ability to get back up. We have the ability to be true to ourselves. It's an effort that we make every day, and I'm finding it isn't quite as hard when I have the support of such a loving community.

Being Authentic

In psychology class this week we discussed how a yoga teacher should present herself to the class. Was it better to be transparent or a pillar of positive energy? When did sharing cross the line and become oversharing? Is it okay to paste on a happy face before class if you just aren't feeling it? 

A yoga teacher is in a position of leadership and trust. It would be easy to take advantage of a captive audience of students in order to vent about a personal issue or receive sympathy. Most people would agree that this is inappropriate but what if you consider the opposite end of the spectrum? What if the teacher constantly appears positive and looks like she has it together, even when she's in the middle of a personal crisis? Does that send the false message to students that if you dedicate yourself to yoga your life will be free of hardship? This might seem like the lesser of two evils, but it is not in line with the value yoga places on honesty.

The group discussion was incredibly interesting, and there was one thought that stuck with me for the next few days. There is a gray area between being authentic and wearing a mask. As teachers, we should strive to share our authentic selves with students, but this doesn't mean that we have to divulge everything. Generally commenting on approaches to a personal situation in a teacher's life might give students a way to connect with their own story. They may be able to find reassurance or inspiration in these moments. This is very different than putting on the expectations that students may have of us and presenting that as who we truly are, like being the perennial perky yoga teacher. 

I think the reason this resonated with me so strongly is because I realized it is something we deal with in our personal lives, too. After my husband left I was sad much of the time, but instead of letting myself be sad in front of people I tried to act like my normal happy self. I didn't want to unload my burden of sadness onto others, and I was terrified of feeling vulnerable in front of everyone I knew. I was wearing a mask, and it prevented me from connecting with others in a meaningful way.

I didn't realize that there was an option somewhere in between sobbing in front of strangers and pretending that my life was great. This middle ground is what I consider being authentic with care. I can be true to myself and what I am feeling, but this doesn't mean that I have to be completely vulnerable in every interaction that I have with others. I can be sad without going into the details of what specific events brought me pain that morning; I can be honest when people ask me how I'm doing without feeling like I then have to spill my guts in order to justify those feelings. I can show as much of my true self as I am comfortable with in the conversation without projecting fake emotions. When I am honest with others without worry of meeting their expectations, I discover powerful moments of connection and support.