Laughing in the space between Imposter Syndrome and the Dunning–Kruger Effect.

We’ve all met them. The person who doubts themselves even when they’re brilliant, and the one who’s certain they’re brilliant even when… well, the evidence hasn’t quite caught up.

Somewhere between those two extremes lies the rest of us: standing in that mysterious middle ground, where self-awareness and self-doubt do a graceful (and sometimes clumsy) dance.

Understanding the Two Extremes

1. Imposter Syndrome

This is the inner voice that whispers, “You have no idea what you’re doing, and soon everyone will find out.”

It tends to strike capable, thoughtful people who have genuinely earned their place however feel as though they’ve somehow they’ve snuck into the party without an invitation.

In truth, Imposter Syndrome isn’t about actual incompetence. Rather it’s the feeling of perceived fraudulence.

You might recognise it when you think:

“I only got that job because no one else applied.” or “If I just take one more course, maybe I’ll finally feel qualified.”

It’s the strange irony of growth: the more you know, the more you realise how much there is to learn.

2. The Dunning–Kruger Effect

Now, on the other end of the see-saw: this is what happens when people overestimate their competence.

In 1999, psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger discovered this curious cognitive bias after studying a rather memorable case. A man named McArthur Wheeler decided to rob two banks in Pittsburgh with his face covered in lemon juice. He believed it would make him invisible to security cameras because lemon juice can be used as invisible ink.

When he was inevitably caught, Wheeler was genuinely shocked. His confidence was sky-high, his awareness, not so much.

From that moment, the “Dunning–Kruger Effect” became shorthand for a common human quirk: The less we know about something, the more likely we are to overestimate how well we understand it.

It’s the person who’s read one book and is now an authority on the subject. Or, in yoga for example, the enthusiastic beginner who confidently insists the teacher is “doing Trikoṇāsana (त्रिकोणासन)” incorrectly.

Equilibrium. The evenness between forces.

And then… there’s the space between. The sweet (and sometimes squirmy) spot of Sāmatva (सामत्व) = balance and equanimity 

It’s the place where we’ve learned enough to know what we don’t know, however not so much that we’ve lost our curiosity or courage.

Here, we can accept that learning is endless, and growth isn’t linear. (Let me repeat “growth isn’t linear!”) Knowing this can help us make peace with being in progress.
It’s where wisdom meets humility – i.e. where you can share what you love, offer your art or knowledge to the world, and still remain open to learning more.

And beautiful things can happen in this middle ground:

• You can admit mistakes without spiralling into shame or self-doubt.
• You can share your work without grasping for approval.
• You can create boldly while staying humble.
• You can say “I don’t know” and still trust your worth.
• You can release your art, your yoga, your writing, your teaching into the world not because it’s perfect, but because it comes from a place of balance, a place of honesty.
• And best of all you can stand steady: neither inflated by pride nor deflated by doubt.

I encourage you to

• Stay curious. Curiosity keeps the Dunning–Kruger trap at bay.
• Stay humble. Humility dissolves the imposter voice.
• Create bravely. The world doesn’t need your perfection; it needs your authenticity.
• Laugh often. A little humour keeps self-awareness from turning into self-seriousness.
• Celebrate progress. Even the small steps matter. You’re not meant to have it all figured out. Remember, it’s a process.
• Find community. Learning and sharing with others keeps your balance steady and your heart open.