Pride has always fascinated me. It’s one of those emotions that walks a fine line—between power and fragility, confidence and ego, light and shadow. I’ve felt both ends of the spectrum, and probably you have too. One moment, pride lifts us up like a gentle breeze beneath our wings; the next, it can quietly cloud our vision and disconnect us from others.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how pride shows up on the mat, `and off of it. In our practice, in our work, in our relationships, in the ways we meet ourselves every day.

The Light of Pride

There’s something beautiful about feeling proud of yourself. That grounded recognition that you’ve worked hard, you’ve grown, you’ve stayed true. This kind of pride feels like a warm glow in the chest, a reminder that your efforts matter.

I often see this in my yoga students: the tiny, victorious moment when someone holds a pose they never thought they could. Or when they come back to class after a hard week, choosing themselves again and again. Pride, in its light form, is deeply nourishing. It gives us the confidence to keep showing up, to keep exploring, to keep evolving.

For me, this has meant learning to acknowledge my own progress without immediately brushing it aside. It’s the inner smile after a difficult conversation I handled with more grace than I used to, or the satisfaction of completing something that once felt impossible. Healthy pride reminds us that we are worthy, of our goals, our dreams, our joy.

The Shadow Side

But pride has a shadow too. And I’ve met that part a few times.

Sometimes, pride wears a different face, one that tells us we should be further along by now. That we’re somehow “less than” if someone else appears to be doing better. It’s sneaky. It can whisper things like “You should be more flexible,” or “You’re not trying hard enough,” especially in a space like a yoga class, where bodies are moving and comparisons can creep in quietly.

In its darker form, pride disconnects us, from others, and even from ourselves. It hardens us, makes it harder to receive support or feedback. I’ve been there, resisting help, pushing through pain, trying to prove something (sometimes to others, sometimes just to myself). And honestly, it never leads to the kind of growth that feels good or real.

Finding Balance

What I’ve learned, and continue to learn, is that pride is best held with awareness. When I can catch it and ask, “Where is this coming from?” I have the chance to respond more mindfully. Am I trying to prove something? Or am I honoring something I’ve earned?

Balancing pride means pairing it with humility. It means remembering that we’re all still learning, no matter how far we’ve come. It means being proud, but never so proud that we stop listening, stop evolving, stop connecting.

In yoga, this looks like staying present in our own practice, instead of drifting into competition or comparison. It’s celebrating our progress, while also being okay with where we are right now, even if it doesn’t look “perfect.” Especially if it doesn’t look perfect.

Pride, with Intention

I’ve come to believe that pride isn’t something to fear, it’s something to befriend, with intention. When we channel it from the heart, it can be one of our greatest sources of motivation and resilience. It reminds us of who we are and what we’re capable of, while still leaving space for softness, for curiosity, for growth.

So maybe the invitation is this: let pride lift you, not isolate you. Let it shine a light on your strength, without dimming the light of others. Let it be a reminder that your journey is worthy of celebration, just as much as your capacity to learn, to stumble, and to rise again.

We’re all walking that line, learning to hold our pride gently. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what makes the journey so rich.

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