Acceptance

 Today, I listen to myself more closely.

I move slowly into my body, even when it is tight, even when it hurts.

I no longer worry about what to call this movement—walking, running, or simply continuing.

I move because movement keeps me honest.

I notice how the world responds to discipline differently than it responds to chaos.

I see how people rush to save what looks broken,

but hesitate when they meet someone who has learned how to sit with himself.

I remind myself:

I do not need to prove my story.

My body already knows the truth.

I am learning that not every space can hold lived experience.

Some places are built to manage pain, not to witness transformation.

That is not an attack.

That is simply clarity.

I release the need to be understood by everyone.

I release the urge to explain my discipline, my solitude, my rhythm.

The right ears recognize themselves.

I am not isolated.

I am accompanied by breath, by movement, by the sunrise and the sunset.

I am in conversation with life itself.

I see now that solitude is not abandonment.

It is refinement.

It teaches me how to listen without fear

and how to speak without force.

When I share from the body, not the ego,

connection happens naturally.

No convincing.

No selling.

Just presence.

I accept this chapter fully.

I stop fighting the shape of my path.

I trust that the discipline I practice quietly

is preparing a space I cannot yet see.

Today, I choose patience over resentment.

Curiosity over frustration.

Integrity over noise.

I keep walking.

I keep stretching.

I keep writing.

And I let life meet me where I truly am.

Yoruba Yogi