Towards Balance— Lately, I haven’t been writing as much as I used to. Not in the way I used to, at least. My words have shifted. They’re less flowy, less poetic —they’ve started to sound more like technical documentation, because that’s what I write now most days as an IT consultant. I’m beginning to notice that my career life is quietly bleeding into my yoga life. Not long ago, it felt like yoga was the one creeping into the nine-to-five, coloring the lines with Sanskrit, breathwork, and awareness. But now, the tide has turned.
So here I am, returning to writing not by meticulously crafting a structured essay, but by typing at the speed of thought — letting the words pour out without too much judgment or backspacing. It’s something I used to do often. This process of externalizing thoughts, letting them tumble out raw and unedited, reminds me of how I used to write. It reconnects me to a version of myself that wasn’t constantly toggling between corporate speak and yoga cues, deadlines and dharma.
The intention for this is to Towards balance.
I wanted to share how stepping more fully into the role of a yoga teacher — even just a few days a week — has shifted how I relate to my personal practice. Teaching demands more from my practice than I had expected. It asks me to show up differently, not just on the mat, but in how I carry yoga with me throughout the day.
It wasn’t until I enrolled in a 200 Hour Yoga Teacher Training in Rishikesh that I truly began to understand what Towards balance really meant. Immersed in the teachings of yoga and surrounded by the serene energy of the Himalayas, I discovered that Towards balance isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence, awareness, and learning when to lean in and when to let go.
I thought I was doing it well. I thought I had found a system that worked for me. But then came the epiphany: yoga weighs more. Per unit of attention, per drop of energy, yoga carries a density that jobs and chores and to-do lists simply don’t. Even the desire to deepen my yoga practice began to bring a weightiness into my life — not in a negative way, but in a way that demanded reverence. Yoga began to call me inward more insistently.
Reading articles or picking up a favorite yoga manual used to be enough to give me that “fix” — that sense of re-connection. But the more I read, the more I wanted to practice what I learned. And the more I practiced, the more I wanted to teach. And the more I taught, the more I had to practice. It became a dynamic, a loop, a rhythm of inspiration and embodiment. But reading alone? That wasn’t enough anymore.
Japa, though — yes. Chanting in the car has become a secret doorway into my practice. Since many of my clients require a commute, I’ve accumulated hours of mantra repetition in the car. That’s been one way I stay connected. I’ll spare you the details of my Vipassana practice, or the subtle rewiring that happens through Sattvic eating — though they’ve each been profoundly transformational.
But let’s fast forward to the real turning point.
There was one day — one specific home practice — that changed everything for me. It wasn’t a dramatic or mystical moment. It was actually kind of mundane. I had my phone beside my mat for the first time during a home session. Not exactly something I was proud of, but it felt necessary that day. That practice — a simple 60-minute session from YogaGlo — stretched into two full hours.
Not because I was blissed out in meditative ecstasy. Nope. Because I got interrupted four times.
First, I had to pause to fix a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for my son. Then, I helped my neighbor unload a new bike. Interruption number three was a minor crisis involving broken eyeglasses. By the time I got to Savasana, I felt like I’d run a marathon. And just as I laid down, ready to sink into stillness, my dachshund trotted over and gave me a surprise ear-lick — apparently his version of a Savasana adjustment.
In moments like these, I find myself dreaming of an Ayurveda Retreat in Rishikesh—a peaceful escape where I can unplug, restore my Towards balance, and truly unwind. Between calming treatments, nourishing meals, and uninterrupted yoga sessions, it sounds like the kind of reset every busy parent secretly craves.
That was the day I realized: I didn’t really have Towards balance figured out at all. I had only adopted the word. I had been tossing it around like it was a skill I’d mastered — a life hack. But the truth was, my version of Towards balance looked like a semi-controlled juggling act. And maybe that’s not a failure. Maybe that’s the point.
Here’s the thing: balance isn’t static.
It’s not some perfect equation we solve once and then coast on forever. It’s dynamic. It’s a dance. And more importantly, it’s an attitude.
We can chase Towards balance as a goal, but doing so sometimes just creates more stress. If we become attached to the idea of Towards balance — rigid in our expectations of what it should look like — we suffer when reality doesn’t match the vision. Trying The Yoga teaches us to release our attachments, including the ones that look virtuous on the surface. The desire for Towards balance can itself be a trap if it pulls us out of presence.
I’ve come to believe it’s the attitude towards balance that really matters. When we approach life with equanimity — that sense of grounded neutrality amidst the chaos — we tap into a deeper kind of resilience. We respond rather than react. We adapt rather than force.
That shift in perspective has changed how I move through my days. Even though on paper my life looks pretty overloaded — a full-time job, family responsibilities, teaching yoga, pursuing a second teacher training, and even beginning to build a vacation home on my family’s ranch (yes, by hand, because apparently I have a thing for overcommitting) — I’ve stopped evaluating my life based on how “balanced” it appears to others.
Instead, I ask myself: Am I embodied in this moment? Am I practicing presence? Am I living with awareness?
If the answer is yes, then I’m okay. Even if I miss a practice. Even if dinner is frozen pizza. Even if the dogs bark during Zoom calls and the laundry pile has achieved sentience.
Yoga, for me, is not a checkbox on a to-do list. It’s a lens through which I view the world. It’s an invitation to respond to the moment with compassion, curiosity, and courage. Sometimes that looks like a beautiful home practice. Sometimes it’s japa in the car. Sometimes it’s simply pausing to breathe deeply between meetings or remembering not to yell when the internet drops in the middle of a client call.
So, if you’re also someone juggling too many roles, if your “balance” feels more like organized chaos, please know you’re not failing. You’re simply in motion. You’re human. And maybe the best thing we can do for ourselves is to practice an attitude towards balance rather than striving for its perfect form.
That’s the real yoga — showing up for our lives, messy as they may be, with intention and attention. Because Towards balance isn’t something we achieve. It’s something we practice, one breath at a time.
