What If Everyone Is My Teacher?

Many years ago, an acquaintance asked me a surprising question: “Wasn’t Elvis Presley’s life a tragedy?”

Elvis and I had a long relationship—although he never knew anything about it. I began listening to his music as a teenager in 1956. I loved Elvis. His music brought me joy and optimism, and because it did, I willingly gave him a tremendous amount of my attention. Over the years, that attention taught me a great deal.

Elvis was enormously talented, charismatic, generous and loving. But as I observed his life, I also witnessed choices that appeared to bring him considerable suffering. Some seemed to serve the preya of immediate ego or sense gratification rather than the shreya of his highest and greatest good. Those choices were not always in harmony with the Guru—the Inner Wisdom—in the cave of my own heart.

And gradually I realized something important: Elvis was teaching me. Sometimes he demonstrated qualities I admired. At other times, his choices helped me recognize what I should not do.

So when my acquaintance asked whether Elvis’s life had been a tragedy, I could not answer simply yes, because for me, Elvis had also been a manifestation of Guru. Not because every choice he made was worthy of imitation. But because I had been paying attention.

The Whole World Is a Teacher

The Charaka Samhita, one of the foundational texts of Ayurveda, offers a remarkable teaching that has long been expressed at AMI this way: “The whole world is a teacher for the wise, and an enemy for the foolish.”

What an extraordinary proposition. The whole world? Even the person who irritates me? The colleague who refuses to listen? The relative who pushes every one of my buttons? The public figure whose words and attitude anger me? The commentator whose certainty leaves no room for another point of view? Everyone?

Yoga Science suggests that the answer may be yes. But only if we are willing to become students.

The important question then changes. Instead of asking only: “Why is that person behaving this way?” we can ask: “What is this relationship here to teach me?”

That small change returns agency to the student. If I witness cruelty, I can learn tenderness. If I witness arrogance, I can learn humility. If I witness distortion, I can recommit myself to truthfulness. If I witness someone incapable of listening, I can examine how well I listen.

And when I discover the same tendency within myself, the teaching becomes even more valuable. Neti. Neti. Not this. Not this. Not with condemnation. Not with shame. But with gratitude for having seen what previously may have remained unseen.

Neti Neti

The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad offers the ancient teaching of neti neti—“not this, not this”—as a practical method of discrimination. It invites us to recognize that not everything appearing in our consciousness is who we truly are.

Anger appears. Neti. Neti. Fear appears. Neti. Neti. A powerful desire appears. Neti. Neti. An old samskara sends yesterday’s traffic down yesterday’s familiar highway. Neti. Neti.

This does not mean that we deny what has appeared. Nor does it mean that we suppress it, fight with it, or pretend it does not exist.

We witness it. We learn from it. And we decline automatically to identify with it. “No thank you. I have no use for this.”

But neti neti cannot be the end of our Yoga Science practice. Having recognized “not this,” another question necessarily follows: If not this—then what?

Now we consult the Conscience: What’s to be done? What’s not to be done?

The Field and the Knower

Chapter 13 of the Bhagavad Gita gives us another way to understand this practice. It distinguishes between the Field and the Knower of the Field.

The Field includes the ever-changing realm of prakriti: body, senses, mind, thoughts, desires, habits, actions, reactions and the play of the three gunas.

Nothing within this material Field is unalloyed. Conditions change. Personalities change. Mental weather changes. Human beings can be loving in one moment and impatient in the next. Wise in one relationship and confused in another.

But Yoga Science asks us to remember that we are not merely what appears in the Field. There is also the Knower of the Field—Pure Consciousness, Purusha. And this distinction changes our relationship with an imperfect world.

The Field does not have to become perfect before it can become our classroom. A flawed human being can still become an instrument of Guru. This does not mean that harmful behavior somehow becomes wise because we call it a teaching. Nor does it require us to approve of that behavior, imitate it, remain unnecessarily exposed to it, or fail to act when the Conscience indicates that action is required.

It means something much simpler: Once a relationship has entered our Field, can we learn from it?

We Do Not Have to Approve of the Teacher

This distinction may be particularly useful today. Through television, phones, computers and social media, we can expose ourselves to a continuous parade of human behavior. Politicians, commentators, celebrities and influencers compete for our attention.

Some may inspire us. Others may anger or disturb us. And because attention carries energy, it is very easy to spend enormous amounts of our precious energy criticizing people whose behavior we cannot control. But what if we experimented with another possibility?

What if, having observed a behavior that troubles us, we asked: “What is this relationship here to teach me?”

Someone speaks cruelly. Neti. Neti. Not this. Not this. How, then, shall I speak?

Someone distorts the truth for personal advantage. Neti. Neti. Not this. Not this. How faithfully am I committed to truthfulness?

Someone reacts from anger. Neti. Neti. Not this. Not this. Can I pause before giving my own energy to anger?

Someone is so convinced of being right that listening becomes impossible. Neti. Neti. Not this. Not this. Can I listen more carefully—even when I disagree?

And then comes the most humbling teacher of all. I recognize in another person precisely the quality that irritates me—and discover it within myself.

There it is. The classroom.

We do not have to approve of the teacher in order to receive the teaching.

From Enemy to Teacher

Perhaps this is part of the wisdom contained in the Charaka Samhita. The same world that appears to us as adversary can become teacher when we know how to learn from it.

This does not require passivity. Yoga Science never asks us to become indifferent to suffering, dishonesty, injustice or harm. Sometimes the Conscience may say: Speak. Sometimes: Act. Sometimes: Set a boundary. Sometimes: Walk away. And sometimes: Do nothing yet. Remain present. Witness. Listen.

The practice of Neti Neti does not determine the outer action. It creates the inner space in which we need not be governed automatically by anger, fear, habit or desire—and in which the Conscience can help us determine what is to be done and what is not to be done.

Then something remarkable becomes possible. The person whose behavior disturbed me may not have changed at all. But the energy of the relationship has changed within me.

What had been merely an irritant becomes curriculum. What had appeared only as an adversary becomes teacher. What had provoked reaction becomes an opportunity for discrimination.

Become a Better Student

We spend a great deal of our lives wishing circumstances and other people were different. If only my spouse understood. If only my colleague would listen. If only my children behaved differently. If only our leaders were wiser. If only people would stop saying such foolish things.

Perhaps. But Yoga Science offers another possibility. The Yoga Scientist does not have to wait for the world to provide better teachers. We learn to become better students.

This does not mean that we give everyone unlimited access to our attention. Once a lesson has been received, continuing to watch the same disturbing behavior over and over may simply squander energy that could be used more creatively.

Learn the lesson. Then use the energy. If another person’s anger has taught me something about anger, perhaps I can use that conserved energy to become more patient. If arrogance has taught me humility, I can practice humility. If dishonesty has reminded me of the value of truth, I can become more truthful. If someone’s refusal to listen has revealed the suffering created by not listening, I can listen.

Now neti neti has accomplished its purpose. “Not this” has made room for “that.”

Discrimination has become action. And what appeared to be an unwanted relationship has become an opportunity to allow Inner Wisdom to find expression—in thought, word and deed.

Even Elvis

When I look back now on that teenager in 1956, listening intently to Elvis Presley, I smile. I thought I was listening to music. I was. But I was also attending school.

Elvis taught me through his extraordinary gifts. He taught me through his generosity. And some of his choices taught me through consequences I did not wish to reproduce in my own life.

I did not have to condemn him. I did not have to imitate him. I only had to pay attention and be willing to learn.

Yes, even Elvis can be a vehicle for Guru. And if Elvis can— perhaps the difficult colleague can. Perhaps the troublesome relative can. Perhaps the politician can. Perhaps the stranger can. Perhaps the unwanted thought can. Perhaps even the part of myself I would rather not see can.

Not everything in the world is worthy of imitation. But everything in the world can become worthy of investigation.

Guru can employ every relationship as instruction when the student is sufficiently attentive and receptive to learn.

And suddenly, the entire world is Guru. The whole world becomes the classroom. Every relationship becomes curriculum. And the Yoga Scientist remains the student.

So the next time someone or something disturbs your peace, before automatically giving away your energy in judgment, anger or resentment, pause. Witness. Practice vairagya. Consult the Conscience. And ask: “What is this relationship here to teach me?”

Listen carefully. The teacher may be closer than you think.

And so, another Question Worth Asking: What If Everyone Is My Teacher?

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