The Greatest Thief Of Our Lives

The other day, I was having dinner with my family and some friends, and we were talking about school. At one point, we discussed the growing importance of a balanced life, focused more on being than on showing.

At that time, a friend shared: “When my life calms down, I really want to start doing yoga.” Soon after, another friend said: “I would also really like to start practicing, but your studio is far away… it would involve organizing myself and creating priorities.” In both instances, I smiled and nodded yes.

The conversation continued, and another friend called me over. I moved closer, and he whispered: “I’m going back to classes, but now I’m going to lose the extra 5 kilos I have with Mounjaro”—and winked at me. I did the same again: nodded yes and smiled.

I feel completely comfortable talking to each of these people and telling them what I’m about to tell you. But the timing didn’t seem appropriate; There were many of us at the table, there were children, noise, and this time I preferred simply to nod and smile. In truth, we are all adults, we have different ideas and distinct needs. However, these examples—and others I’ve heard for over 20 years—prove how the greatest thief in our lives continues to rob us in the most sophisticated way possible, despite all the information we’ve accumulated about health, well-being, and longevity.

This thief is very sophisticated. He’s a kind of Lupin: full of swagger, flair, knowledge, means, and resources.

The greatest thief in our lives is ourselves. Not because we lack time, organization, or knowledge. But because, despite everything, we continue to wait. We spend months, years, sometimes decades, telling ourselves: “I’ll take care of myself, but only when this project is finished,” “I’ll relax, but only when the children grow up,” “I’ll learn more about myself when I reach the next level in my career,” or “I’ll finally face my fear of being alone and meditate, but first I’ll lose weight.”

We create a perfect narrative that justifies the constant self-sabotage. The tomorrow we imagine never arrives with the ideal conditions we demand. And our brain prefers the predictable comfort of an old habit, even if it makes us sick, because change generates immediate discomfort. Constant waiting is not prudence; it’s an escape—we avoid the change that will require effort.

We can even do what our doctors, specialists, and scientists advise: exercise, walk, eat healthily, hydrate, be surrounded by nature, have meaningful relationships, learn to manage stress, etc. We can execute a 360º routine that involves organization, dedication, and work. But we end up neglecting the main point—that which the thief steals as the ultimate prize, because that’s where real change happens: the connection with ourselves. A daily moment that trains attention, awareness, self-knowledge, and inner connection, transforming all other tasks not into steps on a journey to perfection, but into a path with direction and progress.

For some, this moment is on the mat meditating or practicing Ashtanga; for others, it’s daily writing, weekly therapy, etc. The method must be chosen by each individual. A methodology that gently and progressively insists on what you tend to want to run away from and fight; techniques that support the connection with your body, your mind, your emotions, and your energy, awakening compassion, generosity, consistency, and focus.

In a daily life where algorithms increasingly dictate our choices, it is up to each of us to create priorities to stop waiting for life to calm down before taking care of ourselves. Taking care of ourselves is what helps us calm life down.

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