I returned to  psychotherapy  as a client  in my early 40’s, after many years of spiritual studies and yoga training. Managing my growing career and integrating over a decade spent in two high-demand spiritual communities that were organized around charismatic guru figures was more than I could handle alone. My guru had recently died, our community was in disarray,  I had resigned my license to teach the style of yoga in which I was certified, that community was in upheaval, and I was struggling in my marriage. I felt  adrift on the sea of highly variable revenue streams,  loudly voiced public opinions, and my own undigested life experiences,  all of which spoke to a loss of personal agency and autonomy. (Yes, I was 40-something and in the midst of my mid-life passage.)

My therapist asked me, “Do you have any friends who do not do yoga?”

I stared at her, not understanding the question. All of my friends were yoga practitioners or in the spiritual community of which I was a part. In fact, I remember thinking, “Yep, she doesn’t understand me or my values.  This is exactly why Lee said we shouldn’t get therapy. He always said that  therapists will tend to pathologize community life, find problems with your commitment to spirituality, etc.” Of course, truth be told, those reasons are exactly why you should be in therapy while you are involved in a spiritual community. If you can’t explain your situation to someone outside the group in a meaningful way, it may mean you are involved in something that deserves deeper examination. (But that is a different entry for a different day.)

She continued, “Do you ever go on vacation and not do yoga? Do you have dinner with people who don’t practice yoga? Does anyone in your life not care at all about what you do for a living?” 

I tried to explain, “But I love yoga, why would I not practice it on vacation? I enjoy talking about yoga, what would I have in common with someone who didn’t practice? Who has time to spend time with people who aren’t involved in work somehow?”

And, like a good therapist, she listened attentively, allowing me to prattle on. At the end of the session, she suggested that I consider engaging in some activities, relationships,  and communities outside of spirituality and yoga. She said, “I think you need a personal life beyond the one you have right now. And, it will take some time to build.”

She was right. Over the next five years, I explored her advice. I road my bike, hiked mountains, grew a garden, learned to snowboard, went back to church, had dinner parties with people who were not my students, read more novels, and watched more television. I got a puppy and dabbled in agility training with her. And so on. Many of you have been with me throughout all of these explorations. I got happier and more relaxed about my life and my work. Don’t get me wrong, I am not really a relaxed person and have kind of given up hope that I will one day have a miraculous change on that front, but nonetheless, I could feel a distinct shift in the way I felt inside myself and in the ways I related to my work life. Of course, I made some mistakes and have a few regrets, but no lessons in life are free.

At some point along the way, I realized that my therapist did not misunderstand my situation in the way I initially thought. In fact, she saw my predicament quite clearly. I would always be getting tossed around by the endless challenges inherent in the world of modern postural yoga, if I had no bearings beyond my work.  I wasn’t new to the game, I am psychologically well-trained, and reasonably astute, so I knew  that I was not the teacher for everybody,  that some people will love what I do and others will not, that the value of my work is deeper than what I  may or may not be getting paid for it, and that I must hold to my center in the midst of the vicissitudes of  practice and teaching.  However, for all of my high-minded context, I was in therapy because my intellectual prowess wasn’t enough. And, while there was emotionally-oriented inner work I needed to do, there was also a fair amount of outer work to do that looked like “making friends with people who don’t do yoga” and “having a life that wasn’t organized solely around my work.”  I had to have reference points internally and externally for who I was, beyond how my work was received by others. 

So, my advice to new teachers— which, if you haven’t caught on by now is really advice to all teachers— is to have friends who don’t do yoga, pursue activities beyond the sticky mat that bring you joy, and surround your love of yoga with a love that includes and goes beyond it as well. No matter how good you get at teaching yoga,  people will walk out of your classes, write bad yelp reviews, and gossip about you occasionally. No matter how many mistakes you make, people will love you more than you feel you deserve, come to class when you are not at your best, and occasionally ask you to their weddings, birthday parties, and anniversary celebrations. You may have seasons where you struggle to pay your bills and you need to take an extra job to pay for your teaching habit. You may have seasons where the money you make  teaching feels worth the effort and all those hours of training.  And, whether it’s an up season or a down season,  friends who know you beyond those outer manifestations will help you know yourself and your deepest worth beyond them as well. 

Okay, that’s. It for today.  Keep the faith and make some friends.

More soon. 

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