Please Do Not Fake It Till You Make It
When I first heard the phrase “Fake it til you make it,” I felt seen. Like, seriously seen. Pretty much my whole life has been stepping into things - jobs, roles, art projects - where I felt distinctly un- or under-qualified. As a life strategy, it has mostly worked out well for me.
Then one evening, several years ago, I was attending a mondo (public question and answer time) led by Shugen Roshi, my Zen teacher at Fire Lotus Temple in Brooklyn, NY. In a mondo, the teacher brings up a topic, says a few words about it, and then opens up the floor to questions from the students. It is informal and can be quite lively. I forget the topic at hand but I do remember one student saying something about “fake it til you make it” and everyone laughing in recognition (apparently it is a life strategy employed by many). Everyone laughed except Roshi. With an unusual sharpness, he said, “NO! ‘Fake it til you make it’ misses everything.” He is usually a very mild-mannered guy so when he gets riled up, it makes an impression.
That “NO!” in response to that phrase has stayed with me as a big question mark. What did he mean? Why did he say that? And why was he so fierce about it?
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In Chapter 1 of Patanjali’s Yoga Sūtra, he describes the path towards a state of yoga this way: Abhyasa vairagyābhām tan nirodah. This is sūtra I.12 and it is his first description of what we are actually supposed to do on this path of yoga.
One of the many interesting things about the structure of the YS is that first things matter - the first word in the chapter, the first sūtra in the chapter, the first word in a list, the first thing presented in a series of sūtra. It’s not an accident that one thing is chosen first. If the first (sūtra, word, concept) is practiced and realised, then the rest will follow. So, when he lays out the structure of how to move towards nirodah or a restrained, directed mind, in this particular way first, we should sit up and take notice.
Patanjali has given us two concepts that work together on this path towards a state of yoga: abhyasa and vairagyām. Abhyasa means our daily discipline. We could think of it as our daily practice(s) or perhaps we can think of it as how we practice each day. What are we doing, day by day, moment by moment, to cultivate this settled, directable mind? If moment by moment feels too overwhelming, then think about it day-by-day. If day-by-day is too much, maybe think about how you feel when you go to a yoga class once or twice a week or do some morning rituals that connect you with something larger than yourself. The key thing about abhyasa is that you have to do it. Abhyasa is a doing, it is making an effort in a particular direction.
Vairagyām is the result. We can’t “do” vairagyām. It naturally appears and strengthens over time. It is a little more challenging to describe than abhyasa. In fact, in Vedic literature, there are many, complex descriptions of it. The literature goes into great detail of what it is, the various levels of vairagyām and how each of them manifests in our life. But, for our purpose, let’s describe it as a loosening of expectations around this daily discipline. Easing up on the idea that our daily practice - our abhyasa - is going to give us something or show up in our life looking like our preconceived idea of enlightenment.
Together abhyasa and vairagyām form a process that keeps repeating over and over and over. One great aspect about this process is that everyone has an entry point, no matter your level of experience. If today is your very first introduction to yoga, then this process is happening (also: welcome). If you have been practicing for decades, then this process is happening. It isn’t something that we do and achieve once and then move on to the next thing on our list of accomplishments. Quite the opposite, in fact. Abhyasa and vairagyām feed each other - one informs the other which spurs us to keep going and so on, like a spiral, as our understanding becomes deeper, more nuanced and, at the same time, simpler and more vast.
For me, this sūtra points to what Roshi was saying and why he was so insistent about it. What are we assuming when we imagine that there is some future time when we will have “made it”? And, more importantly, what are we missing right now, in this very minute? Where is your practice happening? Is practice just a lead up to some big fireworks moment of liberation, somewhere off in the distant future when life is perfect, we never get angry or upset and everyone love us? Or is it a whole lot closer than that?
That inhale. This exhale. What more do you want?
We don’t need to fake anything because we are making it right now.
