Comparing Yourself to Other Yogis
Photography by Michael Patrick Photography
“Do not compare yourself to others” is a familiar principle to most of us. Although the truth in this statement is obvious, it can still be hard to accept. When I graduated college, I moved into an apartment off campus and looked for a new yoga studio to join in my community. I finally found a space that was warm, inviting, and locally owned. I was rededicating myself to my practice and felt overly confident signing up for a Hot Flow Level 2. The class was small, so I could really feel the teacher’s eyes on me. She was an excellent teacher, but very serious. No modifications were offered and I was the only one struggling to get through class. I was profusely sweating while attempting to keep up with her. My shirt kept getting in the way while I was in Downward Facing Dog and my pants needed to be hiked up every 3 minutes. I did not look or feel as poised as the other people in the room. Then the student next to me whispered over my way, “you’re doing great!” …Oh my god – I was humiliated. It took everything in me to make it until the end. Not only was I having a harder time than everyone else, but someone noticed enough to say something to me! I was glad I ultimately stayed, but I knew I was never returning to that specific teacher again. This could have been enough to make me never want to practice yoga in front of people again.
If you have ever done yoga in a studio, then you probably know what it’s like to look around when you are lost in the sequence. This can quickly turn into problematic comparison. There was a time when I was very concerned about how I looked doing yoga. I was never the best in the room and desperately wanted to be as thin, flexible, and strong as others around me. I thought the yoga studio was a place to feel accepted, or at the very least, neutral. My experience was not always supportive. Now that I teach yoga, I believe the instructor is responsible for cultivating a space of acceptance in part. Then it is essential for the practitioner to trust the instructor with that endeavor, so acceptance can happen on a deeper level.
Despite complete trust and acceptance in the room, comparison still happens. Comparison happens at all levels. It doesn’t take witnessing an extreme posture you can’t get yourself into, like Pincha Mayurasana or forearm balancing pose, to spark a feeling of inadequacy. Observing someone else in a common posture, like Trikonasana or triangle pose, can activate a string of thoughts similar to, “why do they look so at ease when I am working so hard to even keep my top arm lifted?!”
Comparison can also happen in the other direction. As postures came more easily and I started to nail harder poses, I got a bit of an ego boost. I remember my teacher calling on me to demonstrate Parsva Bhuja Dandasna or grasshopper pose to a full class. Everyone’s eyes got big as I successfully rocked the arm balance and I felt accomplished. This feeling fed into pushing myself to over perform in class, as if people were watching me, which led to damaging outcomes, like overstretching and stressing my joints.
It took years and a few injuries, but I finally recognize that I am doing yoga for life and not for a specific pose. Postures and shapes slip in and out of my practice all the time. I may be working towards a particular asana pose, but ultimately my goal is to honor my body as it is shows up in the moment. It does not serve me at any time to compare myself to another yogi in a different body than mine, and on a different part of the path than me. In my opinion, there is no ‘end’ to asana practice. There is only ‘now.’ Cliché – maybe, but it feels really good to take away any unnecessary self-criticism. The more I continue to practice this principle, the more I can apply it outside of class, too.
