Silence

 On Belief, Silence, and Integration

Today I noticed how much has softened in me.

I no longer reach outward to be seen.

I no longer scatter my words in search of mirrors.

Something has settled.

There was a time when visibility felt necessary—

as if existence needed confirmation.

Now alignment feels more important than attention.

I speak less because I listen more.

I share less because I live more.

Silence is no longer empty; it’s precise.

I’m learning that experience doesn’t shout.

It accumulates.

It settles into the body and moves without announcement.

Not everyone who talks understands.

Not everyone who understands needs to talk.

I’ve begun to see how belief operates under pressure—

how fear disguises itself as logic,

how uncertainty seeks authority outside itself.

Some people withdraw not because they lack ability,

but because they lack trust in what cannot be guaranteed.

I understand this now without judgment.

I also see how easily survival needs can delay truth.

How clarity can wait when safety feels fragile.

How love can stay even when alignment is gone.

These realizations don’t hurt the way they once did.

They inform.

They loosen old attachments.

Discipline has taught me humility.

Movement has taught me patience.

Stillness has taught me timing.

I no longer feel the need to correct what contradicts itself.

Growth doesn’t argue—it continues.

When a message is ready, it finds its listener.

When it isn’t, silence keeps it intact.

I trust that now.

I walk lighter.

I observe more.

I speak when invited.

Everything else is practice.

Yoruba Yogi