Tuesday

 Daily Reflection — Learning to Not Know

Today I sit with the understanding that I am still learning.

Not learning facts, not learning titles, not learning opinions —

but learning how to not know.

There is a quiet power in admitting that I don’t have answers, only awareness.

I am beginning to see that wisdom is not in reacting, correcting, or explaining,

but in listening — deeply, patiently — without letting emotion rush ahead of clarity.

I am learning how to sit still without fear.

I see now that stillness frightens many people, but for me, stillness has always been medicine.

Isolation, when chosen consciously, is not punishment — it is refinement.

Time alone has never broken me.

It has shaped me.

I remember how movement saved my mind.

Long hours on my feet, running through darkness into daylight and back again into night.

Watching the world wake up while my body stayed in motion.

Those miles taught me what no classroom ever could.

They taught me how thought dissolves when the body becomes prayer.

There were moments when anger surfaced — sharp, unfamiliar, uncomfortable.

And in those moments, I learned something crucial:

if I was capable of wanting to hurt, then I needed healing, not justification.

That realization changed the direction of my life.

I see now that much of the world fears being alone with itself.

That fear becomes noise, repetition, and suffering retold again and again.

But when I stay with myself — walking, breathing, stretching, reading —

the stories lose their grip.

Pain passes through instead of settling in.

I understand why peace can feel confusing to others.

When fear has been the compass for so long, calm looks suspicious.

But I don’t need to explain myself.

I am learning that silence is also a language.

Everything I have lived is beginning to arrange itself.

Not as answers, but as understanding.

Not as performance, but as presence.

I have lived a story before I learned how to tell it.

And now, slowly, patiently, without urgency,

I am learning how to listen to it myself.

I remain grateful.

I remain open.

I remain willing to not know.

Yoruba Yogi

Tuesday

 

Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

Lately, I’ve been laughing at my own life — not out of mockery, but out of clarity.

The weight I carried for years has loosened, and what once felt heavy now feels light enough to observe.

I see how expectations were placed on the mind before the mind was ever taught to know itself.

How limits were absorbed quietly, without question.

How intelligence was measured outwardly, while the inner world was left unexplored.

None of it was wrong.

It was simply incomplete.

Through stillness, movement, and attention, I began to study myself.

Not to fix anything — but to understand.

The body became a teacher.

The breath became a guide.

The mind slowly revealed its patterns when I stopped rushing it.

I see now that learning doesn’t only happen through instruction.

It happens through repetition, curiosity, and honest reflection.

It happens when I stay present long enough to notice what arises.

I don’t feel behind.

I don’t feel ahead.

I feel awake to where I am.

The desire to learn has returned — not for status or validation, but for understanding.

I’m drawn to first principles, to how things work, to the quiet intelligence beneath complexity.

I’m learning when to speak and when silence holds more wisdom.

I’m learning humility — not by shrinking, but by listening more deeply.

I’m learning that confidence doesn’t need to announce itself.

I don’t need to define the future right now.

Not knowing no longer feels like failure.

It feels like space.

I honor the discipline that kept me moving, even when progress was slow.

I honor the patience that allowed clarity to arrive in its own time.

I honor the laughter — because it tells me I’m no longer afraid of my own life.

Today, I’m not trying to be more than anyone.

I’m simply learning how the mind works — through me.

And that is enough.

Yoruba Yogi

Tuesday

 Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

I woke before the world and met my body where it was.

Cold, tight, honest.I didn’t rush it.I twisted.I breathed.I listened.

Discomfort didn’t mean danger it meant memory.And memory came without noise, without blame.Just signals, releasing themselves when I stayed present.Today I stood up.

Not because it was easy,

but because that’s where I am now.I felt how tightness teaches patience.How strength doesn’t shout.How getting back down is as important as standing tall.

I laughed at my limits — not to mock them,but to let them know I’m not afraid.I saw myself moving far into the future,

steady, fast, alive.No rush. No proving. Just rhythm.

This body has been through storms.And still, it rises.

Today wasn’t about pushing forward.It was about getting back up again, and again, and again.

Yoruba Yogi

Monday

 Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

I woke before the world today, in the cold and the wind, and I met it with breath instead of resistance. When the cold touched my body, I didn’t fight it. I said thank you. I asked my higher self to teach my body how to adapt, how to remain calm, how to stay present. And slowly, the cold loosened its grip—not because it disappeared, but because I did not panic.

On the mat, I remembered who I am. The discipline is real. The strength is real. Six hundred push-ups were not about proving anything; they were a reminder that my body listens when my mind is quiet. Some days, the only word worth writing is thank you—and that is enough.

As I moved through the world today, I noticed how differently people respond to presence. Many live in stories of the past, repeating them for comfort, calling it healing. I do not judge them. I simply see that my path is different. My healing does not live in repetition—it lives in practice, in breath, in movement, in now.

I no longer need to explain why I don’t speak about yesterday. Most of it has already dissolved through years of running, stretching, breathing, and sitting in silence. What remains rises when it needs to, and I let it pass without attachment.

I see clearly now: gratitude is not dependent on comfort. Peace is not dependent on approval. Strength does not need recognition. I can be calm in the cold, quiet in noise, and steady when others are unsettled.

Today reminded me that my work is internal. I walk forward without resentment, without comparison, without needing to be understood. I stay rooted in practice, humility, and awareness. I trust that this path—however unconventional—is shaping me exactly as it should.

I am present. I am grounded. I am grateful.

Yoruba Yogi

Sunday

 Sunday Reflection

I woke before the world stirred and met my body before my thoughts. Tight, alive, intelligent — the sensations were intense, but they weren’t suffering. They were information. Breath moved deeper, emotion surfaced from the hips, and years of practice spoke without words. Pain wasn’t an enemy; it was a message asking me to stay present. When attention drifted, I lost count. When I stayed with the breath, everything aligned. Focus became survival, and survival became clarity.

There is a quiet balance here — happiness wrapped in solitude. Not loneliness, but an aloneness where nothing needs to be explained. I feel how much I’ve released. The past no longer asks to be repeated. Old identities don’t cling. What matters now is movement, awareness, and how truth is processed in real time through the body.

I’m learning how fear works, and how concern can exist without action. I see that attention does not always mean care, and structure does not always mean truth. The cold no longer frightens me. Fear has its place, but it doesn’t run my body or my decisions. Clarity keeps me steady.

I’m also seeing human behavior with understanding rather than judgment. Many patterns come from unfinished growth and inherited ways of thinking. Even good intentions can be guided by what was taught, not what was examined. I don’t resist this. I simply observe.

Right now, I call this learning. Not reacting. Not fighting. Not fixing. Just learning. This experience feels new because it is. There’s no script — only sensation, awareness, and trust in the intelligence that’s been here all along. I know this learning is not wasted. One day it will serve others honestly and clearly. For now, my work is simple: stay present, keep the body open, and let understanding deepen without bitterness.

I’m not lost.

I’m learning.

Yoruba Yogi

Morning

 🌕 Daily Reflection

I woke before the world stirred and found myself on the mat, listening instead of thinking. My body spoke first — tight, alive, intelligent. The sensations were intense, but they weren’t suffering. They felt like information. Like emotion stored in the hips, breath learning how to move from the belly instead of the chest, years of practice finally teaching me something words never could.

There was a strange balance in it all — happiness wrapped in solitude. Not loneliness, but a quiet aloneness where nothing needed to be explained. The pain wasn’t an enemy. It felt more like a message being delivered slowly, patiently, asking me to stay present. When my attention drifted, I lost count. When I stayed with the breath, everything aligned again. Focus became survival, and survival became clarity.

I’m noticing how much I’ve released. Memories don’t cling the way they used to. The past no longer asks to be repeated. My mind doesn’t circle old identities or accomplishments. What matters now is movement, awareness, and how the body processes truth in real time. The more I listen inwardly, the less noise there is outwardly.

I’m seeing human behavior differently — not with judgment, but with understanding. Patterns are easy to recognize when I’m not trapped inside my own. What many call confusion or illness often looks like unfinished growth, a nervous system still searching for stability. Discipline, breath, and presence have shown me that recovery doesn’t come from talking alone — it comes from doing the work and letting the body catch up to the mind.

This experience feels new because it is. There’s no script for it. Just sensation, awareness, and trust in the intelligence that’s been there all along. I don’t need to label it. I only need to stay with it, breathe through it, and let it continue teaching me who I am becoming.

Yoruba Yogi