What If Being Kinder to Yourself Doesn't Make You Lazy?

This morning, my husband and I stayed in bed later than usual.

We played with the dogs. We talked. We lounged around.

And I didn't do my morning routine.

No meditation.

No morning sun.

No getting up and getting on with my day.

And I felt it.

That little sinking feeling in my stomach.

The one that says:

You shouldn't be doing this.

You're wasting your morning.

This isn't how you want to live.

You're behind!!!

And then another voice came in. A much kinder one.

It's okay to do exactly what you're doing and be exactly as you are.

And I felt myself soften.

So relieved.

This is such a small moment, but so amazing because that kind voice never used to be there.

I also think it points to something much bigger.

What happens inside of you when you don't do the thing you intended to do?

You wake up late.

Feel too tired.

Binge Netflix.

Decide to lounge around.

Eat the meat-heavy pizza.

Or the sweet, sweet pastry.

You miss your meditation, your workout, the morning sun—and your belly sinks.

Then the inner critic starts its mockery.

You failed.

You're lazy.

You have no discipline.

What is wrong with you?

We sometimes believe this voice is useful.

That without it, we'd never get anything done.

We'd eat pizza every day, never exercise, never meditate, never set a boundary and apparently spend the rest of our lives lying in bed watching Netflix.

But here's what I've noticed:

That mean voice often isn't getting us to do the things we want to do anyway.

We're still not exercising.

We're still scrolling.

We're still avoiding the difficult conversation.

We're still staying up too late.

We're still not resting when we're exhausted.

Except now we're doing all of it while also believing there is something wrong with us.

The criticism hasn't created change.

It's created self-loathing.

Sometimes, yes, that voice can light a fire under us.

It can create discipline.

It can create what we call tejas in Ayurveda and yoga—the fire that helps us act, transform, and follow through.

But I've become increasingly interested in the question:

What's underneath the fire?

Is it fear?

Or is it love?

Because I don't think true tejas has to come from I better get my shit together or else...

I think it can come from:

I care about myself enough to choose what strengthens me.

And that changes things.

Compassion doesn't mean we stop having intentions for our lives.

It means we stop using cruelty as the primary way of getting ourselves there.

It allows for the ebb and flow of life.

Days are different.

Weeks are different.

Seasons of our lives are different.

Some mornings I need my routine.

And some mornings, apparently, I need to lie in bed and play with my dogs.

The question isn't whether I followed the routine perfectly.

Ideally, there is some intention in how you meet the differences.

That equates to living a conscious life, not one swept up in the swirling chaos of life on this planet... and believe me, it is VERY easy to get caught up in that swirl.

The question is whether I'm paying attention.

Am I consciously choosing rest because rest is what I need?

Or am I avoiding my life?

Am I going to the gym because movement strengthens me?

Or because I'm afraid of what will happen if I don't?

Or because I'm afraid of disappointing someone?

This is where self-compassion and intention meet.

And it's also where one of my favorite yogic teachings comes in:

Svadhyaya: Self-study.

Because living intentionally requires knowing ourselves well enough to ask:

How do I want my life to feel?

If I looked at my life from a bird's-eye view, what would I see as truly important?

Am I living in alignment with my values?

What even are my values?

And then we have to practice answering those questions while we're actually living our lives.

Because most of us can't quit our jobs, leave our families, and go live on the beach.

We have bills to pay.

Bosses to appease.

Kids to parent.

Parents to care for.

This is the swirl of being alive.

The work isn't escaping the swirl.

It's learning to know yourself well enough that you aren't completely swept away by it.

And when you do get swept away—as we all do—you don't need to beat the shit out of yourself to find your way back.

You can notice.

Get curious.

Soften.

And choose again.

At the root of Living Ayurveda is svadhyaya—self-study steeped in self-compassion.

Because I don't want Ayurveda to become another set of rules we use to measure whether we're doing life correctly.

I want it to give us a way to understand ourselves more deeply.

To live with intention.

And to soften toward ourselves as we do.

The inaugural Living Ayurveda Mentorship begins September 11. It's a small, experiential fall mentorship for women who want to learn the wisdom of Ayurveda and use it to better understand and care for themselves.

If this sounds like the kind of experience you've been craving, you can learn more here: