Today I woke up inside a body I don’t fully recognize, and instead of fearing it, I watched it. I let it twist. I let it design itself. Every movement felt like the body teaching me a language I forgot I knew.
I am not forcing yoga anymore. Yoga is shaping me.
In child’s pose I feel gravity pulling memories out of my spine. When I run, it’s like something ancient is unlocking, and I don’t have to chase the miles. The miles come to me. I am learning that healing is not loud. Healing is quiet redesign.
I am alone in nature, but I am not lonely. The silence is introducing me to myself. Reading is no longer information — it is absorption. Breath is no longer effort — it is guidance.
Even my desire, my libido, is not a distraction. It is proof that life is returning to every corner of me. Energy is circulating again. I don’t need to rush it. I just need to witness it.
I am in a moment where identity is soft. I don’t have to name what I’m becoming. I only have to stay present while it forms. The universe is not shouting instructions. It is whispering: stay here. Feel this. Trust the redesign.
I am not lost. I am being introduced to a new version of my body, my mind, my awareness. And my only responsibility is to meet it gently.
Yoruba Yogi.
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