Hi all! Thanks, as always, for reading. I’m happy to report that I have completed my three-year “hero’s journey” of earning my master’s degree, and will soon be offering therapy services in Florida as a Registered Mental Health Counselor Intern receiving Qualified Supervision in compliance with the requirements of the Florida Board of Clinical Social Work, Marriage & Family Therapy, and Mental Health Counseling (sorry, it’s legally required that I type all of that out). In the meantime, I’ve re-opened my books for coaching (read more and book a free discovery call here), and I’ll continue to post here. Please like, share, and re-stack if this resonates— and remember that all paid subscribers get free access to my online studio. Your support means more than you know.
A yoga class may seem an unlikely place to encounter what Jung called “the shadow,” but it’s actually a great place to observe these dynamics at work.
What is “the shadow?” According to Jung, a person’s shadow holds all of the split-off, repressed, disallowed parts that they were never able to integrate consciously into their personality. This can include what we think of as our negative qualities— anger, for example, if we are someone who long ago learned to be “nice;” stinginess, if we’re someone who feels we always have to be generous and giving.
You spot it, you got it
Jung believed (and I agree) that our psyches are “a self-regulating system that maintains itself in equilibrium;” that is, we’re always seeking wholeness. While our ego might think it’s running the show, our shadow is generally leaking out all over the place, trying to express itself. So, the person who thinks they’re generous could be stingy with tipping; or the person who’s always so sweet has a passive-aggressive streak when it comes to gossiping. Still, these are like secrets we keep from our conscious selves, so while others might see these behaviors, we manage not to “know.”
So then, the easiest way to recognize our shadow is by the classic AA aphorism, “You spot it, you’ve got it.” The very things we complain about most bitterly; the qualities we loathe in others; that detestable thing that person does— these are clear flags proclaiming, “That’s my sh*t!”
Try this:
One way to explore this is to think of a famous figure— an actor, a politician, a musician— that consistently pushes all of your buttons. What is it about them that you absolutely cannot stand? List those qualities, and then ask yourself: where in my life can I not tolerate those qualities in myself? Was I ever allowed to be _______? Why is it that ______ is unacceptable to me? This can often lead you in an interesting direction.
But it works in the other direction, too. Who are we envious of? Who do we put on a pedestal? About whom do we think, “Oh, I could never do what they’re doing.” 1This, too, is a red flag: what is it in this person that we are refusing to consciously own?
When we can't own these disowned parts of ourselves, they go looking for somewhere to land, and often that somewhere is another person. This is what we call “projection”: seeing our shadow material in everyone else while denying it in ourselves.
Projections aren’t bad. They can be demonizations, but they can also be hopes, expectations, or idealizations: all of the ways in which other people hold an image of someone else.
We are always engaging in some level of projection; seeing in others the parts of ourselves that we are unable or unwilling to claim.
The human experiment that is group fitness
This brings us tidily to today’s subject.
Can you recall a group exercise instructor, or yoga teacher, or team coach, from your past? Think back and recall what you thought or felt about that person, or, perhaps, how others seemed to conceptualize them. Were they treated as a real person, or as an idealized version of what others think or feel they should be? It’s likely that at least some of the class participants (if not you) were engaged in some level of projection.
In my experience, fitness instructors are uniquely positioned to hold a hefty burden of projection. Why is this? Because they can seem to have something that certain others want, but find difficult. Health, enthusiasm for exercise, mobility, strength, a positive attitude, determination— these are just a few of the projections I can think of. And yoga teachers in particular may be particularly subject to what can feel like an almost unbearable burden of others’ projections, because of the additional (pseudo?-) spiritual element that yoga entails.
In my 13 years owning a yoga studio, I consistently witnessed yoga teachers being treated as though they were an idealized someone else rather than an actual person. They held projections of what students think their yoga teacher should be. Healthy, spiritual, relentlessly positive, natural, vegan, a good listener, able to hold others’ pain, wise, compassionate, understanding, caring.
We could also see it as a specific role that is being projected onto the person: guru, messiah, therapist (despite a lack of qualifications), teacher, mysterious would-be lover, the mother they never had, or the child they wish they could relate to.
If teachers hold personal projections, studio owners also hold the projection of being responsible for the space itself-- the holder of the sacred flame, so to speak. For me, this was a community projection so big it threatened to swallow me whole. Even six years later, when someone talks to me about the studio, I am aware of the weight of their memories, and how different theirs are from mine. It’s meaningful to me that the studio served so many people in so many ways; but the reality of cleaning up sweaty mats and dealing with the seasonal flux of clients (feast or famine in our snowbird FL town!) long ago collapsed the projections I personally held for the space.
The mechanics of projection
For the teacher or instructor, this can be pretty heady stuff. We may really want to identify with that projection. I can think of several teachers who became completely inflated with their idea of themselves in this role. And I’m not immune, either, of course. Who doesn’t want to be seen as wise, compassionate, etc? This is how we can get ourselves into pretty big trouble, not to mention scope-of-practice issues.
Still, some amount of projection is healthy, and even helpful. In a therapeutic relationship, projection is called transference. This is the means by which a client can work through old relationship or internal patterns in a safe environment— by projecting thoughts, ideas, and roles onto the practitioner. Similarly, it can be tremendously helpful for a student to see behavior modeled in their yoga teacher, coach, or fitness instructor that they’d like to take on themselves. To a certain extent, it doesn’t matter that it’s idealized, if it helps us to imagine that we might be able to do that, too.
How do we recognize projection? One clue is that it feels as though the person holding the projection isn’t actually talking to the real person-- it’s like they’re talking to someone else, or their idea of who they’d like them to be. As a yoga teacher, for example, when a student would talk to me, it would sometimes literally feel like they were talking to someone else. I didn’t feel seen for who I was.
Taking back (or, handing back!) the projection
In my experience, holding these projections can feel comfortable, at least for a while; an illusion of a relationship that may serve both parties. But it can also feel like a tremendous amount of pressure. As the holder of a projection, we may unconsciously feel like we have to live up to unrealistic expectations, or risk disappointing others. One of my early mentors taught me to question this by asking, “What is my conscious agreement with this person?” This reframe helps us recognize where shadow material is operating, so that we’re not absorbing what isn’t ours to carry.
Some projections can fade away harmlessly. Sometimes, however, projections don’t allow us to grow into our authentic selves, and they hold us back from true intimacy with others.
We may find we need to hand back a projection, or refuse to hold it. This can be tricky in certain situations. I can think of one yoga teacher I know who had to duck out of an unwelcome kiss multiple times. And I’ll never forget the client who called me “b*tch” in the lobby of my own studio when I let him know I didn’t want to date him.
Inevitably, most projections collapse. We recognize that the person we have on a pedestal can’t live up to what we’ve imagined. We see our spin instructor smoking a cigarette in her car, or our yoga teacher guru is caught sleeping with a student. At this point, the energy that we have invested in that projection returns to us, and we can decide what to do with it. Is there a more realistic, grounded way to appreciate that individual? What was it we so admired in that person— and can we cultivate that in ourselves, now that we recognize it consciously? This is a critical moment for growth. Perhaps we can develop a healthier working relationship with another while expanding our own view of ourselves.
We see in others what we cannot face in ourselves.
Withdrawing projections and reckoning with our own shadow is difficult and painful work. Jung said, “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls.” At the same time, I believe, this is necessary and moral work that we can do to decrease the level of suffering, not just in our lives, but in the world.
During the years that I held others’ projections of a yoga teacher and studio owner, I sometimes felt that not only did people not know me, they didn’t WANT to know who I really was. At the time, I didn’t know what to do with all the projections that I was holding for my clients and students. I wish I could go back in time and tell studio-owner Laura that she can relax. My conscious agreement with my clients was to teach yoga and maintain the studio. Other people’s projections are their business, not ours.
Yes, when our projections fall away, and we see the other as a human, it can be disappointing. But it’s also a tremendous opportunity. We’re forced to see what’s missing in our own lives-- or we find somewhere else to hang that projection.
Thanks to Satya Doyle Byock for identifying this particular phrase!
congratulations Laura! And, thank you for this beautiful, concise, and illuminating offering of the shadow and just how to dance with her.
If you’ve helped me with just these few words, and you have! you’re already a treasure.
Congratulations! You have worked very hard for this accomplishment. So very proud of you!