Presence over Performance

I still remember one of the first yoga classes I ever taught.

I wanted to be a “real” teacher — the kind who sounded wise and insightful. I filled the room with philosophical ideas and inspirational quotes, convinced that offering something profound was what would make the class meaningful.

Instead, I lost the room.

I didn’t ground the class in clear sequencing or steady cues, and before long students were stepping forward on different feet. I felt the heat rise in my neck, my face flush with embarrassment, as I realized what was happening. I fumbled with my words, trying to regain my footing, especially after one student lost their balance and nearly fell.

The frustration in the room was palpable.
They had come to feel more peaceful.
I had created confusion instead.

That class stayed with me — not because it went badly, but because it clarified something I still return to.

People don’t come for performance.
They come for presence.

Since then, my teaching has changed. I begin classes by breathing with my students. I offer a simple theme. I stay attentive to what’s actually happening in the room — to bodies, pacing, and breath. The shift hasn’t been about doing more. It’s been about doing less, and being here more fully.

What surprised me is how often this shows up outside of yoga.

So many of our conversations are subtle performances. We’re thinking about what we want to say next, how we sound, whether we’re being interesting or smart enough. We listen just enough to respond, rather than to understand.

And yet, what most of us are quietly craving is simple:
to be seen,
to be heard,
to be met where we are.

Presence doesn’t draw attention to itself. You feel it when someone is truly listening — when there’s no rush, no polish, no agenda. You feel it when there’s room to arrive as you are.

That early teaching experience reminds me that presence isn’t something you master once. It’s a practice — one we return to in classrooms, in conversations, and in everyday interactions. Not perfectly. Just honestly.

Choosing presence over performance won’t make us flawless. But it does create more clarity, more trust, and more ease — for others, and for ourselves.

And in a world that moves fast and asks us to constantly perform, that choice feels quietly revolutionary.