Is Love Being Served?

Reflections on self-love, clarity, and navigating life’s spaces with intention and grace.

If I’m an advocate of self-love, how can I sit at a table where love is not being served? This question lingered in my mind as I navigated an unexpected dynamic during my yoga training in Rishikesh, India.

I’ve always taken pride in being a champion of self-love and finding ways to appreciate everything around me—including the awareness of my own feelings. Now, in the middle of completing my 300-HR Yoga Teacher Training, I’ve had the chance to reflect on this deeply.

I arrived at the yoga school five days after the rest of my class, which meant I missed the initial bonding stage. I was thrust straight into the intense yoga classes and lessons. With little expectation for relationships, I trusted that whatever was meant to be would unfold naturally.

Some greeted me warmly, while others gave me side glances. Yes, I noticed, but I stayed true to myself. I’ve been on the other side of that judgment before—thinking someone had an easier path yet still reaped the rewards. Now, I understand that this is the ego speaking, lacking the full picture.

But then I asked myself: Is it anyone else’s business? No. It’s not anyone’s responsibility to manage another person’s journey—especially when it has no effect on them. So, I stayed observant.

Laughter has always been part of my nature—a big, resonant belly laugh. I notice when others join in and smile, and I notice when I’m laughing alone. Still, I laugh when something brings me joy. If people knew how much pain, heartbreak, and tears have been converted into that laugh, they wouldn’t judge it—they’d celebrate it.

Through the years, I’ve learned that my laughter disturbs some people. I’ve also noticed that my presence can be offensive to others, even when all I’ve done is smile, be kind, and care for myself.

And yet, here I am.

I’ve been told I exaggerate, that I make things bigger than they are. But now, at this stage of my life, I know when something’s off. I no longer ignore the truth in favor of politeness.

So, I watched as plans were made. I received incorrect dates and times or wasn’t invited at all. I excused it—telling myself things were disorganized or that people hadn’t warmed up to me yet because I had just arrived.

I stood by while photos were taken and told myself I wasn’t included because I was late. I even found comfort in the people who went out of their way to ensure I was part of the group, using their kindness as evidence to convince myself I was overreacting. But deep down, I knew what I felt.

The turning point came when we gathered to say goodbye to the students who had completed their 100-HR training. I’d been given conflicting times—one person said noon, another 11:30 AM. I sat in my room, asking myself: Would it be rude not to show up? Was I really invited? Am I begging to be accepted?

Eventually, I decided to put on my shoes, walk over, and wait. It reminded me of family gatherings from my past—how I’d show up and feel pushed aside because of how my mom had dropped me off looking poor among wealthier relatives. That feeling resurfaced.

When I arrived, everyone was already seated, as if they all knew the correct time. I pulled up a chair for myself, noticing that I’d received one text from someone asking if I was coming because everyone else was already there.

It didn’t stop there.

As we said our goodbyes and took photos, I saw clearly that I wasn’t included in many of them. Eventually, I ended up in a few, but by that point, I could no longer gaslight myself. I realized what was happening.

I wasn’t being fully embraced—I was merely being tolerated. This had happened before, and in the past, I would have tried to negotiate my way in, but that always felt like begging. This time, I sat with what I knew: What’s understood doesn’t need to be explained.

I had one big question for myself: If I’m the advocate and ambassador of love, how could I sit and eat at a table where love wasn’t being served? Was I willing to show up, offer my value, and give my energy to those who didn’t value me? How could I ignore the fact that advocating for myself and prioritizing my well-being seemed to offend others?

In that moment, clarity found me. I made a decision.

I refuse to sit at a table where love is not present, so I canceled all future meals with this group.

There’s a lesson here—for both you and me.

When we find ourselves disliking others for being happy, taking care of themselves, and getting what they want out of life, it’s not them we’re angry at—it’s ourselves for not living up to the same standard. I realized that none of this had anything to do with me. Tolerating it would only drag my energy into a space where I didn’t want to exist.

As I made peace with the situation, more realizations surfaced.

The people in this village aren’t confined to the walls of this yoga school, and neither am I. There are countless people out there who are meant to meet me.

Everything I’ve asked for during this training has been provided to me—and more. I’ve been treated and supported like a queen.

The most important realization? Not every table is meant for us to sit at.

Sometimes, we try to fit in because we’ve been programmed to do so. We want to make others feel safe in our presence, but it becomes uncomfortable because, although we’re in a space, we’re not of that space.

Today, I watched my yoga philosophy teacher. He sits at the front of the class, not among us, even though he’s in the same room. His position is different.

The uncomfortable lesson for me was to know my place and take it. The moment I remembered that my place is always at a table where love is served, the weight lifted, and I felt free.

Is love being served where you are?

With love,  

Shane