Years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, a friend of mine completed her yoga teacher training in India and was so excited to teach. But she had never taught a class and she lived in San Francisco where it seemed like everyone was a budding yoga teacher. Of course, part of the process of being a teacher was teaching classes. She was nervous to teach, but it was time. Of course, I volunteered to help. I was eager to help her to boost her confidence by getting her first class under her belt and the fact that it was free for me was a wonderful bonus.

To put things into perspective, I moved to San Francisco after a debilitating, chronic illness that lasted fifteen years. My muscles had atrophied as if I was eighty years old instead of my current age in my thirties. I had no muscle tone; my muscles flopped and jiggled. I was weak. I had lost confidence. I was unable to work for about ten years due to my illness; I was even bedridden for some of the time. However, I overcame my debilitating pain condition; I healed myself, and moved thousands of miles away from friends and family to try something new, to create my life. I practiced yoga in college, but it was a return to yoga after being devastatingly sick for so long. Needless to say, my body was not in shape, but my heart was eager to try something new. I was ready to get into shape again.

Three students attended her class. A friend of hers who was a yoga teacher, a stranger, (a man who lived at the ashram where the class was being held), and me, her friend from college days.

The class was enjoyable, even though, I couldn’t do all the poses.

Afterwards, I asked how it went for her. She wanted feedback and asked how it went for us. Her friend glowed, showering her with praises, “What a wonderful class you taught!”

“Really?” she asked. “Did you enjoy it? That guy was so annoying! You were the best in the class,” she said to her friend. “He was intermediate and Khristee… You’re… a beginner. What a mix for my first class!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! A yoga teacher who was judging her students! I had never heard of such a thing! First, pointing out that she didn’t like one of the students and then going down the list one by one to rate us. Not taking into account that the other person was a skilled yoga teacher and that I was rehabilitating from a terrible chronic illness. Of course, I couldn’t do all the positions and needed modifications and time for rest, but I was still on the practice; I was still trying to do my best which is all we can really do. I was not new to yoga. I was not a beginner. I was familiar with the poses, but my body was simply unable to adapt to the positions that day, like it had in the past.

I didn’t like feeling judged. I don’t like feeling judged by my friend or in a spiritual context. I pushed my feelings aside and didn’t tell her how I truly felt about the experience that night.

Instead, I made excuses for her behavior thinking that she had been nervous. I cut her some slack, even though, it bothered me. I thought that it was a one-time occurrence centered around yoga and perhaps my insecurities of my body not being in shape like it used to be years ago before my illness.

Living in San Francisco was a huge leap for me. I moved from the suburbs of Connecticut with savings, but without the security of a job. Time passed in San Francisco and I had extreme difficulty finding work. I struggled. I felt that it was because of my lack of resume, my big work gap for being sick for so many years, and the competition of everyone wanting to live in California. I just couldn’t sustain myself; I couldn’t get the work and money flowing.

My friend and I went out to dinner at an inexpensive Asian restaurant that I loved and over plum wine she asked me how I was. But when I shared with her about my struggles, she was not empathetic.

Instead she said to me, “You remind me of my father. I pity you!”

“Do you pity me?” I asked.

“Yes, I pity you,” she repeated.

I was so shocked. I was aghast.

I said, “I don’t want your pity. That doesn’t help anyone. I want your compassion. I want your support!”

“I’m sorry, you don’t have it. You did this to yourself. I am able to find money easily. Why can’t you?”

I realized then that she was judging me, that she had judged me in yoga class and now she was judging me in life with my inability to find sustainable income. She chose to judge me instead of supporting and loving me, and this was a yoga teacher a.k.a. a spiritual teacher.

I realized I had not said anything the first time out of fear out of hurting her, but I ended up hurting myself more. When it happened again, I finally decided to call her out on it and let her know that she judged me.

A few days later, I wrote her a thoughtful email and told her how disappointed I was that she had judged me.

She wrote back and said, “Thank you; yes, I realize now that I did judge you. You triggered me, like my father. So, thank you for letting me know. I see the pattern now.”

I realized many lessons from that exchange.

1) Sympathy is not the same as empathy. Pitying someone doesn’t help anyone. Feeling sorry for someone is not the same as putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. Sympathy feels cold while empathy is sharing in someone’s pain and showing your heart to show them the light.

2) Judgment is not the same as being discerning. We can discern if our friends are folding back into unhealthy behaviors or patterns. We can discern if they are self-sabotaging themselves or if they are simply going through a difficult time. In life, we will all go through difficult times. We will all go through challenges. The difference is how we respond to these obstacles and what we decide to do. We all need cheerleaders. No one succeeds in life without a supportive network. We must know that every moment we have the choice, the decision, to be kind and compassionate, or to judge.

To judge someone is to think that you’re better than someone else, superior. But no one is better than anyone else; we are all in the same boat. We are all human. We are trying to have a spiritual experience in a human body with limited knowledge. When you judge someone, you stop helping them. Instead of lending them a hand to get into a life boat, you are saying you’re on your own.

3) Sometimes honesty is not the best policy; it’s better to simply be silent. The saying that our parents taught us as children, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” holds true.

I would have preferred awkward silence with my friend to the words, “I pity you.” It was hurtful, not constructive.

Also, I learned that even though you’re a yoga teacher, it doesn’t mean you are a spiritual teacher. It means that you have learned how to teach yoga and how to do various yoga poses. It takes an extra step to become a spiritual teacher. You must be willing to go deeper and see the world as a whole, to see our collective pain, to see without judgment, to see with empathy and compassion, to look deeply at your life, and to find wisdom from the suffering to lift us all.

Lastly, I learned that anyone who teaches us anything is our teacher. It doesn’t matter our profession; it doesn’t matter our intent. We can always see a lesson if we are willing to look for it. We are all students and we are all teachers. No matter how painful it was at the time, I am truly grateful that I was able to see from a different perspective and for what I learned from this experience.

Khristee is a healer, spiritual teacher, and writer who works with empaths/highly sensitive women and creatives to overcome their greatest pain from chronic illness, chronic pain, abuse, and trauma so that they can live their greatest joy and live a life beyond their wildest dreams. Khristee has had her share of ups and downs, but has retained her joyful spirit; Khristee loves to travel, dance, lie in her hammock, eat watermelon, meditate, and write stories to encourage empathy and mindfulness. Follow her at The Dancing Curtain on Facebook www.facebook.com/thedancingcurtain and receive your free health gift at: https://www.thedancingcurtain.com/free-health-gift