Silent

 Daily Reflection

Something in me no longer wants noise.

Not answers.

Not explanations.

Not even prayers made of words.

I am learning that silence is not empty.

Silence is instruction.

For a long time, sound felt like safety.

Talking.

Asking.

Explaining.

Moving past discomfort instead of resting into it.

Now my body wants something different.

It wants gravity.

It wants to settle.

It wants to stop holding itself up and finally be held.

I am discovering that stress lived in resistance —

resistance to weight,

resistance to stillness,

resistance to trust.

When I relax into gravity, everything changes.

Walking becomes study.

Jogging becomes listening.

Breath becomes guidance, not effort.

I am learning how to move again.

Slowly.

Honestly.

Like a child discovering balance for the first time.

The anxiety I feel is not danger.

It is the old habit of noise asking to survive.

It is the mind wondering who it is without constant doing.

I don’t need to fight it.

I just need to sit with it.

Prayer is no longer asking.

Prayer is alignment.

Prayer is silence that allows the body to remember itself.

Even my words are softer now.

Gratitude no longer feels forced.

Love no longer feels foreign.

They arrive naturally when the body is at ease.

Something is teaching me.

Not through sound.

Not through thought.

But through sensation, posture, and breath.

I don’t have to rush this.

I don’t have to name it.

I don’t have to explain it.

Today, I choose quiet.

I choose patience.

I choose to let gravity finish what effort could not.

I am listening.

Yoruba Yogi.

Humble

 Daily Reflection

I woke up thinking I was late.

Then I realized the body was right on time.

What I’m practicing now is not effort — it’s listening.

Breath is no longer an exercise.

It’s information moving through me.

The ground teaches first.

The feet answer.

The spine unlocks when I stop forcing it.

Strength no longer comes from pushing past myself.

It comes from sequencing, patience, and respect.

Ten breaths.

Ten movements.

Then stillness.

That is how the body rebuilds itself honestly.

I see now why people have Gurus.

Not because they are weak —

but because truth arrives when it’s ready, not when the ego demands it.

Nature has been teaching me the whole time.

I just had to slow down enough to hear it.

Here is the flaw I am learning to release:

the need to be understood.

When I speak from my practice,

part of me still wants recognition.

Wants others to get it.

That desire is subtle —

and it is dangerous.

Not everyone is meant to hear me.

Not everyone is ready.

That is not rejection.

That is timing.

I am not better than anyone.

I am not ahead of anyone.

I have simply stayed long enough in the work

to watch patterns dissolve.

Jealousy once lived here.

Comparison once shaped my choices.

Letting that go healed more than any achievement ever could.

Freedom arrived quietly — without applause.

I don’t need to explain my recovery.

I don’t need to defend my spirituality.

I don’t need permission to belong.

Each morning on the mat is prayer.

Each breath is alignment.

Each step is study.

Today I choose humility without shrinking.

Silence without hiding.

Discipline without ego.

I walk forward lighter —

not because I know more,

but because I am finally listening.

Yoruba Yogi.

Another beautiful day

 Another beautiful day unfolds.

I rose before the world again, not out of effort, but alignment.

The body knew when it was time.

The breath knew where to go.

I followed.

Years of practice have taught me something simple and exact:

Yoga doesn’t add anything to life — it reveals what is already there.

When I move slowly, I see clearly.

When I breathe fully, thoughts organize themselves.

When I stay with the posture instead of rushing past it, understanding arrives without words.

This body has become a teacher.

Every repetition refines attention.

Every hold sharpens patience.

Every mile reminds me that discipline is not force — it is devotion.

I notice now how silence speaks louder than explanation.

How less noise creates more truth.

How slowing down reading, movement, and listening allows meaning to settle instead of scatter.

What once felt mysterious now feels familiar.

What once felt urgent now feels unnecessary.

I don’t chase insight — I let it surface.

Yoga has trained me to trust clarity over reaction,

experience over opinion,

presence over prediction.

I am learning to guard my inner space carefully,

not out of fear,

but out of respect for how sensitive and precise the mind becomes when it is well-tuned.

Every day, I refine.

Every day, I listen more closely.

Every day, I return to the body —

because the body does not lie.

There is no rush.

There is no pressure.

Only practice.

Only attention.

Only the quiet confidence that comes from consistency.

I move forward the same way I practice:

steady, awake, and aligned.

— Yoruba Yogi