Awareness

 🌿 Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

I woke in the middle of the night between sleep and awareness, my body teaching me something before my mind could explain it. For a moment, my brain mistook safety for habit, rest for permission. I caught it just in time and laughed quietly — not out of fear, but fascination. The mind is incredible. Even in sleep, it’s learning, adapting, trying to protect me.

Later, I sat alone and looked honestly at the roles I once tried so hard to fulfill. The titles. The expectations. The versions of success I chased with everything I had. And instead of breaking down, I laughed. Not because it didn’t matter — but because I finally saw it clearly. I gave my best. I wanted it badly. And still, life unfolded differently. That realization didn’t bring shame. It brought freedom.

For the first time, I saw how easily we confuse identity with performance. How we mistake roles for worth. How we believe life can be failed like a test. Sitting there, I realized something simple and shocking: the feeling people chase through status and possessions is the same feeling that can arise through awareness alone. Contentment doesn’t belong to outcomes. It belongs to presence.

I noticed how my body no longer tightens around words, memories, or judgments. What once disturbed my organs now passes through without damage. This didn’t happen overnight. It came from years of practice — returning to gratitude no matter what happened. Again and again. Until the mind learned a new default.

I see now how the mind survives through repetition. Complaining is not truth — it’s training. Fear is not wisdom — it’s habit. When gratitude becomes the first response, the mind slowly releases its grip on panic and comparison. Peace becomes possible even in inconvenience.

I also see how survival shapes behavior. How people protect themselves the only way they know how. How fear speaks louder than honesty when safety feels uncertain. Understanding this softened something in me. I no longer take things personally. I see context instead of offense.

Lately, I’m amazed by how little I need to explain myself. Silence feels natural. Observation feels enough. I stretch, breathe, sit, pray, move — not to become something, but to stay connected to what’s already here. The discipline itself has become the reward.

The greatest relief is this: I don’t need to know what comes next. Not knowing feels like space instead of fear. I can say “I don’t know” and still trust myself. Still trust life.

Nothing was missing.

Nothing was wasted.

Nothing needs to be proven.

The mind, when met with patience and gratitude, remembers how to rest.

Yoruba Yogi