Friday

 Reflection

I woke up before the world again.

Not because I was trying to escape sleep,

but because my body was already speaking.

I didn’t rush it.

I laid there and listened.

Twisting had already begun —

a reminder that healing doesn’t wait for permission.

When I reached the mat, I moved slowly.

Child’s pose was inconvenient,

but inconvenience is where the body tells the truth.

Left side. Right side.

Each breath a meditation.

Each twist a prayer inside my own spine.

Memories tried to visit.

Old faces. Old moments.

I let them pass through without taking a seat.

Anything gone, even for two seconds, is finished.

There is nothing to fix there.

I returned to now.

The push-ups are fewer,

and that’s okay.

I’m not chasing numbers —

I’m rebuilding signal.

Gravity teaches me something every time I lower myself down.

Slow strength reveals what speed hides.

I walk. I jog.

Sixteen miles, not to impress,

but to remind my body that it is safe to move again.

Everything is slow.

Everything is deliberate.

In shared spaces, I listen without absorbing.

Words no longer pull my emotions around.

I don’t need to argue with noise.

I can simply let it pass.

I notice now:

those who are still healing need to speak loudly.

Those who have integrated choose their words carefully —

or not at all.

I don’t need rituals on display.

I don’t need borrowed motivation.

Discipline doesn’t announce itself.

It lives quietly in repetition.

Today, I let my body do its work.

I watched instead of directing.

I trusted what years of practice have already taught me.

I am not withdrawing.

I am integrating.

I am not slowing down.

I am rebuilding correctly.

I am here.

And that is enough.

Yoruba Yogi