Time

 I see my life more clearly now, without rushing to judge it.

There was a long time when I didn’t know who I was.

Not because I lacked opportunity, but because I lacked anchoring.

I felt danger before I had language for it, so I hesitated.

That hesitation protected me, even when it looked like delay.

What I was taught early stayed in my body.

I didn’t always understand it, but it shaped my choices.

I moved away from substances not out of wisdom at first,

but out of instinct, resistance, and fear of losing myself.

Later, understanding arrived.

Not all at once, and not gently —

but through endurance, extremity, and honest consequence.

Some realizations took decades,

then arrived in a single embodied moment.

I made choices from guilt when I didn’t yet trust intuition.

I tried to repair old wounds with my life.

That cost me alignment, and I accept that without punishment.

I didn’t begin late.

I began when I was ready to say no.

Before that, access without boundaries would have harmed me.

Now, I stand in a different place.

I don’t need to know everything anymore.

The unknowing feels alive, not empty.

Creative, grounded, open.

Being on the ground is teaching me something.

How to move with gravity.

How to listen without force.

How to let meaning form instead of chasing it.

Writing calls me back because it’s time to distill, not explain.

To speak without convincing.

To share without asking permission.

My life has not been linear.

It has been a spiral — returning with depth.

I trust the timing now.

I trust the body.

I trust the quiet work.

Nothing was wasted.

Nothing is wrong.

This is integration.

Yoruba Yogi