Leslie said something to me as I was settling onto my mat that I haven't been able to shake.
"You know, it's hard to be around people who are constantly bragging about who they are or what they own."
It was our last private yoga and Yoga Nidra session before I moved to the South of France. Mats barely unrolled. And already we were somewhere real.
Her comment sparked a heartfelt conversation and a subsequent Yoga Nidra practice about being comfortably rooted in your own being. We talked about the difference between a human being and a human doing.
"When you are secure in your fundamental being you don't need to try to prove anything to anyone."
I said to Leslie: when you're The Shit, you don't have to go around town bragging about it. You just go be The Shit.
David Whyte once said, "Constantly explaining who you are is a gospel of despair."
If your identity hinges on something as fragile as an action or a title, you're always one step from annihilation.
A human being, by contrast, is valuable simply because they exist.
The Mighty Oak
When you are secure in your own being, other people don't ruffle your feathers nearly as much. The best antidote to the braggart is to be so solid in your own beingness that another person could say or do whatever they wished and it wouldn't bend you one way or the other.
There's a German line I love: "What does the mighty oak care if the warthog scratches its rump against its bark?"
This is what we are really practicing in yoga and meditation. We affirm and identify our value as our beingness.
Your beingness lives in your ability to pay attention, to listen and be. Not to do. The doing comes after. It's the act of responding from the place of being.
After our conversation, I led Leslie through a Yoga Nidra practice focusing on exactly this: anchoring to being. Becoming the mighty oak. Settling so deeply into herself that whatever anyone said or did, she didn't have to worry about it one way or the other.
Then I rushed home to pack.
I was halfway out the door when I heard her call after me.
"Hey Scott!"
I turned back. She was grinning.
"Go be The Shit."
May I extend that same invitation to you.
If this resonates and you want a place to practice exactly this, being held by something larger than your title, your to-do list, or anyone's opinion of you, I'd love to share what's coming up.
In late summer, I'll co-host the Caldera Retreat at Harriman State Park with Nan Seymour and Amy May. Five days of yoga, Yoga Nidra, writing, and mountains older than any title we've ever worn. August 27–31, 2026. A few spots remain.
