Selfishness

 Another day unfolds, and I notice how much I see now without trying.

I sit among others and listen — not just to words, but to posture, breath, tension, and rhythm. I watch how pain is shared, how the past is revisited, how voices soften or sharpen depending on what they receive in return. I see how some people lean toward sadness, not because they want to suffer, but because it gives them connection.

I don’t judge it.

I just recognize that it no longer regulates me.

My body has learned another way.

Through stillness.

Through movement.

Through long hours alone with breath and sensation.

Pain doesn’t need rehearsal anymore. It moves through me when I stay present. I don’t have to narrate it. I don’t have to return to it. The body remembers how to release on its own.

I’m learning to share carefully — not because truth is dangerous, but because not everyone is ready to hear it. Some hear honesty as rejection. Some hear silence as distance. That’s not my work to fix.

My work is to remain grateful.

I feel the tension in others sometimes — the weight of worry, obligation, fear disguised as generosity. I don’t need to expose it. I don’t need to correct it. I can love without absorbing it. I can receive kindness without letting it cost someone more than they can give.

Space is not separation.

It’s respect.

I notice how often people ask for certainty — plans, titles, roles — as if movement only counts when it looks familiar. But I know what I’m doing. I wake early. I sit with myself. I move, stretch, breathe, listen. I regulate my nervous system. I sharpen perception. I practice honesty inwardly before offering it outwardly.

This is work.

I don’t need to announce it.

I don’t need approval.

I am becoming more precise with my words and more generous with my silence. Every place I find myself teaches me something — even discomfort, even repetition.

I am not lost.

I am not behind.

I am not avoiding life.

I am in a phase of integration — where what I’ve learned is settling into the body before it takes another form.

For now, I stay present.

I stay grateful.

I let clarity arrive in its own time.

Yoruba Yogi