Life Gets in the Way of Life Sometimes

A reflection on slowing down, returning to center, and remembering what matters.

There are seasons when life feels like one long exhale. We move from one thing to the next, appointments, responsibilities, goals, expectations, and somewhere in the rhythm of doing, we forget the rhythm of being.

We say, “I just need to get through this week.” Then that week turns into a month, and before we know it, we’re living in a loop of catching up, cleaning up, showing up, but rarely being present.

It’s in those moments I often remind myself:

“Life gets in the way of life sometimes.”

It sounds simple, maybe even circular, but it holds. Even the most mindful among us can get swept up in survival.

When the Doing Overtakes the Living

As a yoga teacher, I’ve learned that movement doesn’t always mean progress. You can flow through an entire sequence, hit every posture, and still be disconnected from the experience. The same is true off the mat; you can move through the day on autopilot and still feel like you’ve missed it.

When we fill every gap with noise, tasks, or distractions, we leave no room for breath, the very essence of life itself. Balance isn’t about doing everything right; it’s about remembering to return to what’s real.

Sometimes that means pausing mid-project. Sometimes it means crying in your car before class. Sometimes it means saying “no” to something good because you’re trying to protect something essential, your peace.

The Gentle Art of Returning

The beauty of yoga and, really, of any mindful practice, is that it constantly invites us back to the present. You can lose focus, wobble in a pose, even fall, and the practice says, begin again.

That’s what we forget when life gets in the way of life: we can always begin again. No one asks you to have it all figured out. No one expects your breath to be perfect or your balance to be unwavering.

Returning doesn’t require control; it requires compassion. It’s the quiet art of softening back into your body, noticing your breath, and whispering to yourself, I’m still here.

And remember, yoga doesn’t just live on the mat. We can take that same breath anywhere: in traffic, in a challenging conversation, in the grocery store line, in grief, in laughter, in the quiet moments when we finally stop running.

That breath is our practice, our bridge back to awareness, to connection, to self. Every inhale reminds us to receive what is. Every exhale invites us to release what we can’t hold anymore.

The mat is where we practice remembering so that out in the world, we can live that remembrance.

Relearning the Simple Things

When I teach or practice, I often remind students (and myself): We inhale to receive. We exhale to release.

We stretch to discover space. We compress to find strength.

It’s all a metaphor for life. We expand, we contract. We love, we lose. We try, we rest.

Through it all, our breath keeps us tethered to something constant, a reminder that even when life tangles itself into knots, presence can untie them, one inhale at a time.

If you find yourself overwhelmed, remember this: You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to rest before you restart. You are allowed to let the world spin without you for a moment while you remember who you are.

“Life gets in the way of life sometimes.”

But you can always find your way back through breath, through awareness, through grace.

The practice is never about perfection. It’s about coming home, again and again, to yourself.

Reflection Prompt:

Where can you take your yoga off the mat this week?

What moment, small or ordinary, could become a practice of awareness, breath, or gentle reconnection to yourself?