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.