As Adriene guided her viewers through a breath sequence, she asked us if we could discern why we're here. I interpreted this question first and foremost as "why am I here in this world?," as I've spent a great deal of time wishing I wasn't. But as she elaborated (while we still weren't moving, might I add), Adriene asked us to explore why we were on the yoga mat.
"Well I don't know, I feel like shit, and I'd like to feel less like shit," I thought to myself mid side-stretch. Not particularly yogic and profound, if you ask me.
Then we started moving. Not quickly, not in marathon ashtanga style like I had pushed myself through all of high school and college, but slowly, steadily, mindfully. And while Adriene thoroughly cued her audience through each pose, I found myself diverting from the instructed postures. Not dramatically, nor intentionally. I just turned my brain off and found myself swinging from left to right, or moving my arms with my breath in an otherwise static pose. It was then that Adriene said, "as cheesy as it sounds, this is a time to be yourself—your authentic self."
I have a bit of a complicated history with authenticity. Usually I'm confused by it, since I've spent my entire life mirroring what those around me have done. I'm perhaps attracted to studying the notion of authenticity because I have been unable to truly unveil it in myself. In researching authenticity online, I tend to conclude that authenticity has become commercialized, mass produced, a cleverly hidden cash grab for vulnerable teenagers who want none other than to find themselves, but only if their selves are sporting the newest Gucci bag.
While I tend to reprobate the notion of "real authenticity" and a "true" self, my small diversions from Adriene's postures gave me a twinge of hope that maybe I had the potential to find what feels good for me, as opposed to do solely what I've been instructed to do. It ignited in me the idea that perhaps I could "find my own path" because I wanted to, rather than because I felt shame that I was following those around me.
But, because I love a good paradox, I also focused on Adriene's reminder that we are not alone. A big part of what makes the 30 day yoga journey so powerful is knowing that thousands of other yogis across the globe are participating in the same practice at the same time—and this notion extends far past yoga. In the past week, I have heard an emphasis on connection in an interview with a co-founder of Facebook, an interview with Cory Booker, and Brené Brown's Ted Talk on vulnerability. Granted, we need to find our particular purposes as individuals, but we as humans cannot live without others. We need to connect, to let others into our complex, messy, and altogether confusing lives.
As Lord Tennyson once said, "I am a part of all that I have met." We don't need to be carbon copies of everyone we've ever met to recognize that our interactions and exchanges, our fleeting and lasting connections, and the people that we have learned from and taught have influenced us tremendously. And, more importantly, we can laugh at our foibles and mistakes, and delight and celebrate at our accomplishments with those same people.
My grandfather used to sing "we're here because we're here because we're here because we're here." The why doesn't always make sense. It doesn't have to. But we have thousands of other humans who are experiencing the same meaninglessness and deep meaning of life.
So returning to the broader "why am I here?" question, I have discerned that I am here because I have the power and agency to be myself. I am here because I can learn and experience life with others to build on my authenticity, rather than neglect it.
I'm here because I'm here. And I'm going to keep showing up.
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