Always Being the Teacher (and Forgetting How to Be a Student)

The Hidden Cost of Holding Space

There’s a strange kind of fatigue that comes from always being the one others turn to.

You start out grounded in service, your heart full, your purpose clear, your presence steady. You lead. You teach. You hold space.

But over time, quietly, subtly, you can forget what it feels like to receive. You stop asking questions. You stop stumbling. You stop learning out loud.

And suddenly, you’re no longer in a relationship with the practice. You’re just delivering it.

The Role We Play (and the Role That Plays Us)

Whether you’re a yoga teacher, therapist, coach, parent, or leader of any kind, it’s easy to fuse your identity with the role, especially when others see you as the one with the answers.

But teaching isn’t meant to be a performance. It’s meant to be a relationship.

And every relationship requires reciprocity.

When we stay too long in the teacher's seat, we risk losing our connection to humility, curiosity, and growth.

Sometimes, what creeps in isn’t arrogance, it’s over-responsibility. That subtle belief that you must always know, always hold it together, always lead.

But that pressure? It can strip the practice of its soul. You start teaching from memory instead of from a place of presence. From expectation instead of embodiment.

The Gift of Beginner’s Mind

In yoga philosophy, it’s called shoshin, the beginner’s mind, that place of openness, wonder, and willingness to be new.

We can teach from wisdom and remain soft enough to stay students. Because the moment we stop learning, we stop evolving, and so does our teaching.

Coming back to the student seat might look like:

• Taking a class without comparing or trying to “already know.”

• Reading something far outside your usual interests.

• Asking for help, even when it feels uncomfortable.

• Letting yourself get quiet enough to feel lost and resisting the urge to fix it.

  
  

It’s not about collecting more knowledge. It’s about remembering humility. It’s about coming home to awe.

My Own Practice: Relearning the Art of Receiving

There have been moments when I realized I was teaching from a place of depletion, not devotion. Moments when I was focused on doing it right rather than staying true. Moments when I hadn’t let anyone hold space for me in weeks.

The irony? I teach embodiment. Presence. Humility. But I wasn’t living them fully.

So I went back to the basics. I stepped into other teachers’ classes. I let myself wobble. I didn’t lead; I followed. I took savasana like I meant it.

And I felt myself come home again, not to the role, but to the practice.

A Note for Other Leaders

If you’re feeling weary, detached, or numb in your work, it may not be that you need to teach less. It's possible that you need to learn more.

Not more information, more presence. More moments of not knowing. More spaces where you get to soften.

You are allowed to sit in the student seat. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed not to have all the answers.

You’re not failing if you need a pause. You’re not broken if you need guidance. You’re human. And humans grow best when we’re allowed to be whole.

Teach from the Breath, Not Just the Brain

When we return to being students, we return to wonder. And from that place, our teaching and our living become a living thing again: fresh, rooted, real.

So come back to your mat.

Come back to your breath.

Come back to not knowing.

That’s where the wisdom lives.

Reflection Prompts

Take a few moments to journal or pause with these questions:

1. Where in your life are you always “teaching,” leading, or holding space and forgetting to receive?

2. When was the last time you let yourself be the beginner, without needing to know?

3. What would it look like to return to your own soil to rest, to learn, or to be held for a change?

4. What’s one small way you can nurture your student self this week?