Learning

 Today, I pause and give thanks.

Another beautiful day continues, and I feel it in my body.

I’m grateful for this yoga, for this sequence, for the patience it’s teaching me.

I trust that running will return in its own time.

I ask for help with what I cannot control,

and I remain open to the beauty of not knowing.

I’m learning to take life lightly,

to bow into each posture,

to listen instead of perform,

to be humble enough to learn from slowness.

I sit in rooms where unity is spoken about often,

and I listen carefully.

I notice where words float without roots,

where acceptance is discussed but not embodied.

I don’t argue.

I don’t correct.

I observe.

I see how talking can become identity,

and how identity can become distance.

I see how fear hides behind certainty,

and how authority sometimes replaces compassion.

I understand now that healing cannot happen without breath,

without movement,

without the body being invited into the process.

I’ve learned something rare by standing still without numbing.

To be sober without shelter has taught me humility,

patience,

and a compassion that doesn’t need to explain itself.

It has softened me, not hardened me.

When I greet others with respect,

when I bow, when I say hello, when I move on,

I’m not fixing anyone.

I’m practicing dignity.

I’m practicing presence.

I notice when my own energy begins to tighten,

when ego tries to return in disguise.

So I step back gently.

Not in anger,

not in rejection,

but in care.

I choose peace over proving.

I choose learning over arguing.

I choose regulation over reaction.

I see clearly now:

some systems help people stop,

but not all help people heal.

I hold no resentment toward that.

I remain grateful for what was given

and honest about what is missing.

I continue walking.

I continue breathing.

I continue trusting this quiet unfolding.

I am not lost.

I am not late.

I am exactly where I need to be.

Yoruba Yogi.