On Teacher Authenticity

I don’t care how good a yoga teacher you are, when you stand at the front of an unfamiliar studio it’s a little like the first day at a new school. Where do I fit in here? What will happen when I open my mouth? Is what I have to offer…enough? Confidence and experience provide answers to those questions but make no mistake, the questions still come up.

Into the category of “who we are on the mat is who we are off the mat” falls the following advice: Be authentic, just be yourself. That’s the concept I find myself investigating as I hawk my wares to this new community of yogis, wondering if they’ll listen, wondering if they’ll like me.

Authenticity comes down to two questions in my head-where is my North Star, and am I ready to abide stillness? Put another way, where is the locus of my decision making process, and how battle tested is what I’m suggesting? Am I saying what I want to say, or am I saying what I think they want to hear? Am I the commander who asks where her people are going so that she may lead them there, or am I confident that the message I’m here to deliver is one that needs delivering even if that means I might have to stand alone for a little while?

If I wanted be a popular teacher I’d make decisions based on my assumptions about what other people want. Because I want to be a good teacher I make decisions based on what I feel serves the moment best, and time alone provides information. Time spent sharpening my clarity through meditation and breath work, time spent on my mat feeling postures in my body, time with my eyes and sometimes hands on others, and time observing the effects of my message. If I spend enough time with the practice of yoga I can trust the authenticity of my words. If I spend enough time with the practice of yoga I can enjoy the process of teaching and learning and not get uneasy in the silence. 

Truthfully, I can’t think of an ‘off the mat’ circumstance in which this process would not be helpful. Why am I saying what I’m saying, and do I believe in it enough that I don’t mind if it takes people a little while to get it? Wouldn’t a little softness, a little patience, and a little depth be a nice addition to the level of discourse in my life? Wouldn’t my marriage, my relationships with family and coworkers benefit from me saying things that come with conviction from an honest place inside me? What if we were all willing to admit we feel like the new kid at school every now and then, and that we all hope to be seen, heard, and useful?

We’re all in this together, loves, I look forward to practicing with you.

xoxo, 

m.