The Humiliating Joy of Uncertainty

It took philosopher-historian Will Durant (1885-1981) over five decades to complete his 11-volume series, "The Story of Civilization." He and his wife would pen more than 53 surveys on human existence that are still praised for their readability and accessible prose.

For all his diligent scholarship on the ways of the world — and conclusions from it about humanity and civilization — with age and experience came doubt about those convictions. In his later years, Durant revealed dramatic shifts in his views. He described exasperation reconciling life experience with his previous judgments about geopolitics, religion, and science.

Durant would declare: “certainty is fatal to inquiry.”

Personally, I take comfort in the twists and turns chronicled in Durant’s shifting perspectives over time.

In the yoga-verse, somewhere along the way, many of us found satisfaction in the certainties shared by the teachers, books, classes, and videos we consumed. It's human to be seduced by the lure of a dogmatic blueprint for fill-in-the-blank-desired-effect: This meditation technique is a protective armor against your life's stressors. That movement sequence will restore your spine to health. This breath practice is an inoculation against anxiety. That restorative posture will improve sleep quality. 

The pitfalls of hubris aren't confined to philosophers, historians, and scientists. It’s one of the (increasingly poorly kept) secrets about 'teaching' yoga.

So much certainty. Sometimes, the promises align with experience. But often enough, they don't. When we first dip our toes into yoga teaching waters, the impulse to telegraph confidence in the value and accuracy of what we’re sharing from the 'teaching mountaintop' can slide us downhill, at alarming speed, eventually landing us in the discouraging valley of cocky overconfidence. 

In an essay about cultivating "beginners mind," cognitive neuroscientist Christian Jarrett highlights the results of a 2015 Yale University research study. It asked graduates to estimate their knowledge of subjects pertinent to their degrees, then tested their ability to explain those topics. "The participants frequently overestimated their level of understanding," he noted, "apparently mistaking the ‘peak knowledge’ they had at the time they studied at university for their considerably more modest current knowledge.” 

A Teacher Isn't Always the Closest Access Point to Relevant Expertise 

One of the most liberating, if humiliating, revelations for anyone daring or foolish enough to try to teach a subject as complex and vast as yoga comes from surrendering to how little we know about what’s best for an individual practitioner. Once we swallow a bit of pride and admit that our certainty about opinions-disguised-as-expertise robs students of the twin jewels of curiosity and inquiry? It's a relief to drop the exhausting façade that our instructions and cues can outperform someone's curiosity-fueled, intuitive discoveries. 

The yoga and contemplative teachings with lasting impact for me came from those urging a spirit of curiosity. I'm talking about the teachers who leaven answers to questions with strong encouragement toward inquiry. (I'm looking at you, Erich Schiffmann, just for starters). My admiration and gratitude for the ones that didn't strain to enroll me in a fixed dogma grows exponentially over time.

What's your experience on that front?  

I’ve been chewing this week on a short Bryan Kest video echoing the theme as it applies to the concept of correct postural "alignment" in asana. He's been teaching yoga for 38 years and declares that “proper alignment doesn't exist. That's why five schools of yoga will emphasize five different ways to do the same pose.” Teachers can share informed opinions on how they feel a posture should be correctly executed, but they are just that. You might find some opinions helpful to your practice, others not so much. Kest says that every human body has its own unique, natural alignment and “what makes it yoga is the discovery of what that uniqueness requires at any given moment.” 

Boom! 

How About Sharing Some Inquiry Together in Montana?

This summer will mark the seventh time I'm woven into the team of guides as emcee for the weeklong Feathered Pipe homegrown Mindful Unplug retreat in Montana.

The primary teacher at The Mindful Unplug is the place where it happens, the land of the Ranch. Wild, raw nature is abundant at the storied Feathered Pipe Ranch. A mountain lake nudges you in the direction of solace and reflection. Trails wind through wildflower-saturated hills and the woods are dotted with aspen and aromatic pine. Mountains shape every horizon. Ravens, warblers, blackbirds, and pine siskins flit among trees and across meadows. 

There are human guides at The Mindful Unplug too. I share accessible yoga, mindful movement, and meditation. Our sensory awareness friend Zane leads forest immersions and an enchanting nightfall meditation. And the incomparable Matthew Marsolek and family add a profound and vibrant dimension to our time together, helping us find our own rhythms through group drumming, music and dance. 

An important piece of news about the Mindful Unplug: it is among the 2023 Feathered Pipe Foundation programs with scholarship availability. Applications are being accepted now through 26 February, so if you or someone you know is interested in attending but would benefit from some help making it happen, hop on over to this page to apply for a scholarship.