Egoless

 

Reflection

This morning, I noticed something shifting.

I woke up at four, thinking I was late, and then I realized my body had already arrived.

Strength was knocking. Flexibility was knocking.

Not loudly—just steady, patient.

I moved into my practice and let my eyes meet the moon.

Two stars sat beside it, quiet witnesses.

I didn’t ask for meaning. I just greeted them and kept moving.

Gravity didn’t pull me down today.

It pulled me forward—onto a road that felt familiar, like a wanderer stepping out of the bush and remembering where home is.

I practiced for hours.

Not chasing anything.

Just listening.

Sitting after movement, I learned something new about my spine—not from effort, but from attention.

And I realized again that I am still a student.

After all these years, I’m still learning how much there is to learn.

A moment of kindness passed through my path, simple and unfiltered, and it reminded me that presence doesn’t care about status.

Love shows up where it’s welcomed.

As I moved again, my mind stayed quiet.

Strong.

Clear.

Words about courage floated past me, and I smiled—not because I needed them, but because courage is already happening when I keep showing up.

Not talking about it.

Not proving it.

Just living it.

I noticed how different the world looks when I leave judgment behind.

When judgment rests, good becomes visible.

Effort becomes visible.

Compassion becomes visible.

Movement continues to teach me.

The body remembers things the mind once feared.

What was once labeled broken now feels like a story unfolding in real time.

I am learning that this path is not about explanation.

It’s about participation.

Walking.

Breathing.

Writing.

Listening.

This new writing feels like the same practice—slow, honest, precise.

If I write clearly, I can speak clearly.

If I listen closely, I don’t need to force meaning.

I don’t need to arrive anywhere today.

I’m already moving.

And that is enough.

— Yoruba Yogi