Thursday

 I am learning to let life breathe through me.

Not how I want it to come.

Not how I expect it to arrive.

But how it moves when I stop interfering.

I see now how much I once needed to be seen.

How much I confused acknowledgment with worth.

How pain made me tight.

How endurance became my identity.

I forgive myself for that.

I forgive the version of me that was still bleeding

while pretending to be strong.

I forgive the moments where I took silence personally

and turned it into judgment.

Not everyone who crosses my path

owes me recognition.

And I no longer need it to stand tall.

I choose preparation over expectation.

Presence over performance.

Flow over control.

My body teaches me now.

In the twisting.

In the breath.

In the patience of stillness.

I let life enter me the way it wants to.

I do not rush it.

I do not demand from it.

I receive.

Today, I walk lighter.

Not because the past disappeared —

but because I no longer carry it with clenched fists.

I am aligned.

I am maturing.

I am becoming quieter without becoming smaller.

And that is strength.

Yoruba Yogi.