conundrum of polarity

Two sides. That's me. Gemini. ALL THE WAY. I forgot about that a bit, during this journey in yoga. Yesterday in my advanced immersion kula, I was abruptly reminded of my own duality. Not in a terrible way...somewhat disturbing, yes...but ultimately bearable. Everyday life is systematic...I might even say routine (gasp!), but when I am holding space within my study circle I discover the polarity of my experiences. In yoga. As a teacher, I am confident in front of a class. Solid within the teachings I've assimilated. Steadfast in my determination to pass them on. Being in the Seat is a fabulous challenge for me...the preparation involved in developing my theme and sequence is completely engrossing. I chant. I journal. I chant. I study. I write. I chant. It is not without significant dedication that my class is "born". But, as I sit in Kula. Among my "peers"...many of whom are significantly more practiced and studied and wise...the soap that is doubt bubbles to the top, nearly washing away all of my confidence as a 'teacher'. It is with deep appreciation and reverence for the teachings that I sit amongst the circle, and my love and devotion only grows stronger...with every second. As for my ego, well, it disintegrates ever more minute by minute. Yoga is a work in progress...as are we. Finding joy...amidst the suffering of life. The inescapable pain is, ultimately, what leads us (like a horse to water) to the bliss. So, yeah. My study. My "self" observation hurts. A lot. But, in a way it's like the scab that you can't resist picking. Or itchy eyes that you can't escape rubbing. The pain is kinda good. I can't help it. I keep coming back for more. But, unlike scab-picking and eye-rubbing, I KNOW that it's good for me...in the long run. Immediately, it feels like torture. My mind is a garbage-heap of questioning doubt: "Who the HELL am I kidding? I don't know SHIT! How can I call myself a yoga teacher!??" But then. I leave kula. My life returns to it's cycle. I sit. I journal. I chant. I study. I chant. I pause. I breathe. I know. I am doing what I'm supposed to be doing. To the capacity that I can be doing it. There is a minor amount of ego...but not so much that I'm unaware of my frailties. Not so much that I will not admit my fallibilities. And NEVER so much ego that I can not feel compassion, love, and empowerment for the lovely beings who sit with me and share the space we call "kula". To them, I am most grateful.