Mo ju ba

 I woke up before the sun again.

Somewhere between 3 and 4 a.m.

And instead of listening, I tried to rush.

Not because I didn’t care,

but because part of me forgot

that this body no longer responds to force.

Today reminded me:

focus is not speed.

Concentration is patience.

When I let go of rushing,

the body showed me something real.

It moved without asking my mind for permission.

Push-ups turned into postures.

Gravity became the teacher.

I didn’t choose the asana — it chose me.

I see now that the body has intelligence.

Not imagination.

Not belief.

Intelligence.

Child’s pose keeps returning, especially to the side,

and I understand why.

It humbles me.

It opens the spine.

It teaches strength through yielding.

Every time I soften, I become stronger.

Yoga is not performance.

It’s science.

And today, the science shocked me.

I lost count.

Not because I was careless,

but because my attention wandered outward.

Comparison crept in.

Expectation crept in.

I noticed it.

I didn’t follow it.

I asked myself questions and then let them go.

I came back to breath.

Back to gravity.

Back to the floor.

That return matters more than perfection.

While stretching, old phrases surfaced in my mind —

words I’ve heard a thousand times.

They rose up on their own,

and I laughed.

Not out of disrespect,

but because I saw clearly:

the body remembers everything.

At church, words felt quiet.

Stories felt distant.

Not empty — just unnecessary.

My nervous system already had what it needed.

I didn’t write much today.

I was half awake, half asleep,

processing instead of explaining.

That’s okay.

While running, I moved slower.

On purpose.

Letting gravity pull instead of fighting it.

The spine began to release.

Pain and healing arrived together.

I realized something important:

this kind of running can’t be done with anxiety.

It demands patience.

Presence.

Trust.

And I laughed —

at the control,

at the seriousness,

at myself.

Laughter isn’t avoidance.

It’s distance.

It means I’m no longer trapped inside the situation.

I noticed beauty today.

I noticed distraction.

I noticed awareness watching it all.

And I laughed again.

That’s balance.

My body is reopening.

Slowly.

Uncomfortably.

Honestly.

Nothing is breaking.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothing needs to be forced.

The body knows.

The breath knows.

Gravity knows.

My job is to listen.

Yoruba Yogi