The Teacher Is Always the Student

I am no different than you. I simply choose to be uncomfortable.

I hate it. Honestly, it drives me a little insane sometimes. But living outside of my comfort zone has challenged me in ways I never would have allowed myself to experience in the past.

Coming back into my body after giving it the space and time to heal has been a strange process. I had to remember what it felt like to be in pain. I had to move through it. Breathe through it. Sit with it.

There were moments when I found myself wanting to go down a darker path, to become frustrated with the experience or wish I could simply go back to the way things were.

But then something shifted.

Instead of fighting what I was feeling, I began to thank myself for feeling it.

It became a reminder of where I came from and everything that shaped me into who I am today. In a perfect world, I would come back from healing, and everything would feel perfect and normal again.

But I know that isn’t how this works.

Healing doesn’t necessarily mean returning to who we were before. Sometimes it means learning how to meet ourselves where we are now.

So I take a deep breath and remember how strong I am.

I remember every little breakdown.

But I also remember every comeback.

Those moments matter, too.

We sometimes place teachers, practitioners, and people we look up to on a pedestal, as though becoming certified or experienced somehow means we have figured everything out.

It doesn’t.

Teachers are still students.

We have stories. We have hard days. We have things we are still learning, feeling, practicing, and working through.

And I believe it is vital that we share those stories.

Not because we have all the answers, but because vulnerability reminds us that we are human. It allows someone else to see that they aren’t alone in their own process.

There is something comforting about realizing that you don’t have to have everything figured out before you begin.

Sometimes you just have to be willing to be uncomfortable.

And I promise you, there can be comfort in that discomfort.

It takes practice.

Just like everything else in life.

Being certified is only a small part of the equation. The rest comes from continuing to practice what we teach.

For me, meditation isn’t simply about knowing how to guide someone else. It is about continuing to sit with myself. Continuing to breathe. Continuing to notice. Continuing to come back.

Because becoming a teacher doesn’t mean we stop learning.

The teacher is always the student.