The sun

 This morning, I listened more closely.

Not to noise.

To rhythm.

I woke before the world asked anything of me.

I moved my body, and my body spoke back.

Not in pain.

In release.

What I once called tightness

now feels like memory leaving.

As I rise from the floor—slowly, honestly—

I realize something:

the body does not lie,

and the ego cannot survive effort.

When I push, when I breathe, when I stretch with sincerity,

there is nothing to prove.

Only something to feel.

And lately, my thoughts are simpler.

They are no longer fighting for meaning.

They are orbiting.

The brain.

The sun.

The moon.

The brain watches.

The sun gives energy without asking who deserves it.

The moon reflects without claiming to be the source.

And I ask myself—

What if understanding doesn’t come from choosing sides,

but from alignment?

The brain learns patterns.

The sun teaches consistency.

The moon teaches humility.

None of them argue.

None of them label.

None of them exclude.

They just are.

I notice that when I honor the body,

the mind softens.

When the mind softens,

questions don’t threaten me anymore.

I don’t need to judge what others say or believe.

They are free.

So am I.

My work is internal.

To listen.

To move.

To write.

To observe without hardening.

I am not here to be right.

I am here to be aligned.

With my breath.

With my spine.

With the quiet intelligence that rises

when I stop forcing answers.

Today, I let the brain think.

I let the sun warm me.

I let the moon remind me

that reflection is enough.

And that is peace.

— Yoruba Yogi

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