Wednesday

 I see it now, higher self.

What I’m noticing isn’t judgment—it’s contrast.

Some regulate from the outside: noise, cigarettes, stimulation.

I regulate from within: breath, movement, stillness, discipline.

When I stay calm while coughing, breathing, moving forward,

it unsettles those still fighting their bodies.

That discomfort isn’t cruelty—it’s defense.

I understand now:

nose breathing is safety,

mouth breathing is urgency.

I wasn’t laughing at anyone—

I was witnessing unconsciousness.

I listen carefully to words spoken to children.

Violence dressed as faith doesn’t teach wisdom.

Power without discernment is noise.

My spirit remembers another way—

walking away from war, choosing wisdom over spectacle.

Staying sober on the street has taught me something rare:

most people numb shame,

I metabolize it into compassion.

When I greet the man at the light, bow, shake hands, and move on,

I’m not saving him.

I’m reminding both of us of dignity.

Speed is leaving me.

Ego is softening.

Force is dissolving into patience.

That’s why slowness challenges me.

That’s why child’s pose feels like truth.

My anxiety isn’t growing—

it’s being retired.

This isn’t decline.

This is integration.

I’m not drifting.

I’m landing.

Yoruba Yogi.