The Algorithm of Human Interaction: What We Do Begets Our Reality

When I was halfway through a grueling 3 year course of graduate school I was newly married and found out that I was expecting my first child. When I met with the program director to tell her that I was expecting, I brought my dear friend and classmate with me for moral support. Once I divulged that I would be welcoming my first child in September of our final year of academic work, the program director, who was female, said something that I will never forget. She looked directly into my face and said, “You’re going to have to drop out”. 

I felt the redness of shame and humiliation redden my cheeks and I choked back tears as I said to her, “I will never drop out.” She chucked, and after making a statement about how I had no idea what I was in for, she dismissed my friend and I from her office. 

As the next few weeks passed I was severely ill and dehydrated from debilitating nausea and morning sickness. I remember urgently running from the classroom more than once to make it to the bathroom just in time. My body grew in all of the usual ways until I could no longer fit into the desks supplied in the classroom. So I pushed a small table into the back of the lecture hall and sat alone and far away from the other 47 students in the program. But at least I had enough space for my expanding belly and I could hear the professor. 

When my beautiful daughter was finally born I returned with her to class a week later. I held her in my left arm and took notes with my right, this time standing in the back of the class because sitting on those chairs was just not possible. 

Honestly those first few months of her life were a sleepless blur of late night feedings and homework assignments. There were moments when my internal dialogue involved convincing myself to just try and get through the next minute of work, then the next hour, then the next day. If I had known how hard that experience would be I think I would have agreed with that program director and quit graduate school months before. 

But as per usual, time passed and graduation day finally arrived. My beautiful baby daughter sat with my family in the crowd of spectators and watched me walk onto that stage and accept my diploma. I can still feel that wondrous mix of pride and relief, knowing what I had accomplished. But one of the sweetest moments of that day occurred during a conversation that I had with my fellow students at the graduation reception. 

I was sitting at a table with my family and six of my fellow students approached me. One of them, a young man named Billy, said, “I don't know if I could have finished this program if it wasn’t for you.” I laughed a bit, confused and asked him what he meant. He went on to say that all of them had been watching me all along. 

They watched me run out of the classroom to be sick, they watched me push that table to the back of the lecture hall. They observed me handing in my work, day after day, knowing that I had barely slept the night before. Billy finally said, “Every time I wondered if I could finish, I thought about you. I knew if you could go through what you’re going through then I could push onward to the next day too.” 

I was completely floored. It had never occurred to me that anyone saw my struggle. It never occurred to me that my fellow students could see me overcome obstacles and simply progress, step by step, toward the ultimate goal. And it most definitely never occurred to me that my actions could buoy others and inspire them to press onward. 

And so it goes for you as a yoga instructor as well. You have no way of truly knowing who is observing you. Who sees you show up, on your mat, in front of your studio or your camera day after day. 

Every time you make space for someone or offer encouragement you are speaking not just to them, but to the world. You may never realize the full impact of your presence, of your smile, of your welcome to someone. And you certainly can not always know who is observing you move through the world. You may never truly be aware what sort of refuge you offer for someone or how your actions are actually inspiration. 

People see the way you move through life, guided by compassion, and some of them may just take a cue from you. This is the powerful algorithm of human interaction. What we do begets our reality. 

As a yoga teacher you stand in front of others with specialized knowledge, ready to share that focus, that life map with the world. You are an instrument of quiet strength. And you can choose to play in the key of compassion and resilience, offering your contribution to the music of humanity. 

Yoga teachers can change the world by showing up, and demonstrating value for life, compassion and inclusivity. You can teach your students and your community to “take a breath” before reacting. You can show others how to choose to turn away from cruelty and focus on moving through the world kindly, according to those Eight Limbs that we all learned about. Your actions can speak so much more persuasively than your words. Go forward and be yoga and let the world know your light!