Monday

 I wake up before the world

not to prove anything,

but to meet my own breath.

I don’t rush the body anymore.

I listen to it.

Every push-up is a conversation.

Every posture is an answer.

I don’t bend because I’m flexible.

I bend because I am learning to yield.

Gravity is not my enemy —

it is my teacher.

Sometimes it hurts.

Sometimes it shakes.

But I stay.

Because staying is where healing happens.

I don’t need a room full of mirrors.

I don’t need music to tell me when to move.

I have my breath.

I have my mat.

I have the quiet voice inside me that says,

slow down, feel this, let it open.

I used to think yoga was something I did.

Now I know yoga is something I become.

When I push, I learn humility.

When I hold, I learn patience.

When I breathe, I learn peace.

There is nothing to achieve.

There is nothing to escape.

There is only this moment

and the body that carries me through it.

Today I am not chasing enlightenment.

I am meeting myself

one breath at a time.

And that is enough.

Yoruba Yogi