For a long time one of my favorite movies was Almost Famous, which debuted in 2000, directed by Cameron Crow. I was quite obsessed with Penny Lane in the classic gay way: did I want to be her? Did I want to sleep with her? Did I just crave her incredible wardrobe, the freedom of her life? These questions remain unanswered. However, there is a scene at the end of the film that has been playing in my head as I think about becoming more visible on social media, creating a “brand”, and harnessing the power of the internet to talk about the work that I do. Spoilers ahead! But like…it's been 26 years so, ya know, I don’t feel too bad.
Towards the end of the film, Ms. Penny Lane finds herself uninvited from the tour of the band (and lover) she’s become quite attached to. As her boyfriend’s wife comes back in the picture, she flees to a truly opulent hotel room to drink a bottle of champagne and swallows...too many quaaludes. Our protagonist, William, finds her and saves her life, but not before he plays out the same tired trope (“this whole time you thought I was your friend but I was actually in love with you”). Her response is truly inspired:
She says, “I am tired, and I am REtired.”
She slurs her discontent with investing so much in an idea, a practice of loving, a practice of connecting with vulnerability and care…and it is potent.
If I had a nickel for the number of yoga teachers, teachers with true wisdom who inspire folks daily on and off their mat (and almost always IN REAL LIFE), who feel crushed by the weight of performing for social media as some kind of evidence of their professional engagement, I certainly would not have to create an online platform for my work, because I would be rich. The Gen X and Millennial teachers who have put in 10+ years of holding space are feeling the squeeze of overexposure without the feedback of connecting directly with the energetic flow of a studio or classroom. It’s unnatural, “performative”, it feels like selling something that was never meant to be sold.
When I thought about Becoming a Brand, it reminded me of something I share often in teacher training, something that feels important to expand on. Living under capitalism, and with the propagation of yoga in the USA in particular, we have always and will always lose something essential to the practice. Whether it is the traditional guru to student structure, the commodification of yoga accessories from mats to clothing, the spiritual bypassing and good-vibes-only culture, we are already behind the proverbial eight ball of sharing this asana and yoga. To make a career of sharing yoga, even if it’s only in person, means creating a product. A product that a studio or Instagram markets. Even if it feels like a sacred offering, which I believe many people do create, it is also a product.
I actually believe that a capacity to hold many truths at once is one of the more powerful outcomes of a consistent yoga practice. Tolerance for ambiguity, intellectual flexibility, emotional resilience, and comfort with uncertainty are all skills we develop as we familiarize ourselves with our nervous systems and mental patterning.
So what does it mean to hold these two truths:
I know in my heart and spirit that the work I offer comes from the most purposeful, creative, and compassionate parts of me.
I also genuinely believe that the level of “enlightenment” or spiritual growth I can achieve while being a yoga teacher under capitalism is limited.
It doesn’t necessarily feel brave to me to name the fact that the “purity of teaching” people often look towards, the pedestalizing and hierarchy that makes folks feel like they can accept guidance, is predicated on denying the second truth. That every yoga teacher you know is a human, despite their Instagram or TikTok presence. I think we actually have an opportunity to do something really neat and cool when we begin to hold both of these things at once. This is also something I share with trainees.
When we teach in person we owe it to ourselves and our students to maintain certain energetic boundaries. If, every time I teach a class, I feel vulnerable…all feedback is going to land as painful, inflammatory, personal, and critical. How do we allow ourselves, as guides, to create a space where students come to practice? A container separate from our psyche where student and teacher both enter to engage with the practice? One that protects the experience of those practicing, who are then able to have whatever experience they might without judgement from the teacher, as well as the teacher…who can engage with feedback with curiosity and care instead of defensiveness.
So why doesn’t this strategy apply to social media and online platforms in the same way? I would say it’s because the conflation of self and product is what made these platforms so addictive to begin with. You are meant to be your actual self! With other people! We are socializing and it feels so good (even though it mostly feels terrible). I’ve begun to think about branding, brand images, marketing, and platforms as a way of creating that energetic container, creating that spiritual boundary. Something people can engage with that is from me, but not me. Working with a team to streamline scheduling, classes, website, payment, language, color, and image has been a privilege and investment in myself that has empowered me to create a product that I believe in without feeling like I have to be cruel, inauthentic, or trend forward to share my work. It is a way to practice the energetic boundary I use for in person teaching online.
When AI makes all human contributions immaterial, or in 2000 years when aliens are sifting through our hard drives, I decided I wanted to be delusional enough to contribute to that legacy. That I believe in the way I share and grow in this practice enough to create a record of it, a place we can be together. A place for messiness, grief, joy, rage, and everything in between. And I am thrilled to have you with me.
