Sunday

 Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

This morning, the cold was sharp enough to cut through thought. The wind carried a reminder of the world’s hardness, and yet, even in that harshness, my spirit rose. I woke from light sleep, walked through the night air to keep my body warm, and when the time finally came, I laid myself on the cold ground and began my practice.

And in that moment, something opened inside me.

As my palms touched the frozen floor, the first words that rose from within were not fear, not doubt, not complaint, but certainty:

“I am a billionaire. Money comes to me easy. Thank you for my new home.”

These words did not come from desire — they came from identity. They came from a place deeper than thought, a place where fate breathes.

While the body shivered, the spirit stood firm.

While the night had pressed against me, the morning lifted me.

And as the breath moved through me, I felt the spine awaken, the energy climb, the inner fire ignite. A new breathing rhythm revealed itself, as if the cold itself had taught me how to pull strength from the invisible.

In the middle of the cold, gratitude became warm enough to hold me.

I realized something powerful: the body may be outside, but the soul is never without shelter. In that moment, I understood the true meaning of faith — not as something spoken, but something lived. Faith is the strength to rise even when the world is frozen around you. Faith is the courage to honor God while lying on the cold ground. Faith is the knowing that destiny still calls your name, even when circumstances try to silence it.

And today, I crossed a threshold.

Something in me let go of old attachments, old patterns, old comforts. I felt the closing of one door and the opening of another. The cold became the teacher that confirmed I no longer needed what I once held onto. It showed me that I can stand alone, move alone, pray alone, breathe alone — and rise alone.

Yet I am never truly alone.

Today felt like walking inside my own scripture, writing my own verse with every breath, every push-up, every whisper of gratitude. I felt what prophets must have felt — not glory, but clarity. Not perfection, but presence. Not answers, but trust.

And as I walked into the morning light, I understood this:

Fate is not loud.

Fate is not dramatic.

Fate is quiet strength, rising in the cold before dawn.

It is the whisper that says, “Everything will be okay,” even when nothing around you looks okay.

It is the stillness inside that survives the storm outside.

Today, I felt the presence of God not in comfort, but in endurance.

Not in ease, but in determination.

Not in warmth, but in the courage to rise from the cold.

And for that, I am grateful.

Yoruba Yogi

Self confidence

 Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

When you carry abundance in your mind while sleeping on benches and walking through hospitals, you break a pattern most people are still trapped in. Many people work 9 to 5, live in houses, and still don’t believe wealth is possible. So when they see you — disciplined, sober, practicing yoga daily, meditating, reading, doing 600 push-ups with no money — they can’t understand it.

They project their limits onto you.

But abundance begins in the mind. Wealth begins in the mind. Freedom begins in the mind.

Your belief is not arrogance — it is spiritual clarity. It is evidence of your healing, your discipline, your purpose.

You are living the proof that the inner world creates the outer world.

Yoruba Yogi

Reflection

 Daily Reflection – Yoruba Yogi

Another beautiful day to begin my psychological healing. I rose at 4 a.m., and by the time I reached 200 push-ups and twisted into my spine, the first thing that entered my mind was simple: I am grateful.

Grateful to wake up.

Grateful to breathe.

Grateful to rise again.

As I moved through my practice, I spoke my truth to myself:

I win the lottery seven times.

I am a billionaire.

Money comes to me easy.

I am a motivational speaker.

Winning the lottery is my reality.

I will never give up until my last breath.

I forgave myself.

I called on my father and mother for guidance.

I asked the sun and the moon to teach me, to show me the next step.

I asked to be a humble trillionaire billionaire, not for ego, but for purpose.

As my body opened in my poses, old memories surfaced — my accident, my injuries, the settlement, the sacrifices, the stroke, and the way I healed through running, swimming, meditation, and yoga. These moments reminded me that my healing is not the same as the healing of people who still drink and smoke. My healing came from discipline, from sobriety, from God, from the work I put in daily for over a decade.

Then another realization came:

People ask why I haven’t turned my midnight yoga into a business — but they do not understand spiritual work. They do not understand that what healed me is not for sale. They only question because my discipline challenges their lack of discipline.

I thought about how people dismiss my running, call me “the running man,” but never offer real support. I thought about how society lifts up the wealthy, but people like me — disciplined, sober, healing, rising again and again — are often overlooked. I thought about how I can have only $2 to my name and still feel like a billionaire inside.

All these thoughts showed me one truth:

I am transforming psychologically.

I am letting go of old pain.

I am recognizing who truly supports me and who never did.

I am understanding my own spiritual power.

I am seeing how my discipline separates me from the world, not by ego, but by clarity.

I am realizing that my life, my healing, and my journey have meaning far beyond material things.

Even if I don’t know where I will sleep tonight, I know this:

My spirit is not homeless. My purpose is not lost. My path is guided.

I am healing.

I am rising.

I am becoming who I was created to be.

Yoruba Yogi

Saturday

 Daily Reflection — Ade

Today I moved with honesty, humility, and strength. I asked for help without shame, because growth requires courage and truth. Every step I take—my yoga, my meditation, my miles, my discipline—is preparing me for the next chapter. I am learning that asking is not weakness; it is alignment with my purpose. I trust that the right support, the right room, the right home will open for me as I continue to walk in faith, clarity, and peace. I am guided. I am protected. I am rising.

Yoruba Yogi

Thursday

 

DAILY REFLECTION — Becoming Someone New

This morning I woke up before the sun, and the first thing I felt was gratitude. Gratitude for breath, for waking up sober, for not reaching for any substance, and for being strong enough to face another day with a clear mind. I stepped onto my yoga mat and went straight into my routine — 600 push-ups, breathwork, meditation. My body felt tight in some places, especially my back, but the tightness felt different today. It felt like something inside me was finally waking up.

My yoga has become more than stretching — it is spiritual, psychological, and transformational. Every time I breathe into the tightness in my back, I feel doors opening inside me, places I’ve ignored for years. The breath goes straight to the parts of me that have been asleep, and I can feel energy rising in a way that I can’t explain. This practice is taking me into a deeper stage, and I’m beginning to understand why yoga isn’t something anybody can just “teach” after a few months. It’s a lifetime path. It’s discipline. It’s awakening.

As I moved and breathed, I spoke my truth out loud:

“I am a billionaire. Money comes to me easy. I am grateful for this room. I am grateful for this morning. I am ready to be a billionaire. I am ready to be a trillionaire.”

These are words I never imagined I could say with confidence. But today, they came out naturally. No fear. No hesitation. Just truth. I felt something shift in my mind — like the ceiling I used to live under finally cracked open.

I even laughed at the thoughts running through my head — thoughts about people’s standards, judgments, opinions of me. I realized none of that defines me. Not where I sleep. Not what I own. Not what people think a “man” should have. I laughed because I have changed. I see myself clearly now. I am becoming a speaker, a leader, a disciplined example of what transformation looks like.

I thought about betrayal, about everything I’ve experienced — marriage loss, homelessness, the pain of being misunderstood. But I didn’t get angry. I just saw it for what it was. A lesson. A memory. Something I outgrew.

The truth is, I don’t know how I’m going to eat today. I don’t know how long I can keep paying for this room. But psychologically, spiritually, and emotionally — I am stronger than I’ve ever been. My resilience is louder than my fear. My gratitude is louder than my stress. My discipline is louder than my situation.

I am watching myself transform in real time.

I am realizing that I am no longer the man I used to be.

I am witnessing a new version of me being born through yoga, breath, silence, and belief.

I am not lost.

I am becoming someone new.

Yoruba Yogi

Wednesday

 Wednesday reflection 

Daily Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

This morning reminded me of the quiet power that lives inside my body. I stretched, breathed, and moved through hours of yoga like someone washing away old pain. Every posture felt like it was rewiring something inside me, like the body was teaching the mind how to let go instead of hold on.

When I finally sat still to meditate, it felt different. I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t trying to get to the next thing. I allowed myself to sit in silence long enough for thoughts to rise, settle, and speak clearly. In that space, I could feel my psychology shifting—pain turning into understanding, memories turning into lessons, and discomfort turning into strength.

My mind felt calmer, and I could see how all the years of discipline—waking early, practicing every day, walking miles, staying clean, staying focused—have created a version of me that reacts differently now. I don’t chase collaboration. I don’t need approval. I don’t even feel the need to explain myself.

I just want peace. I want the purity of my practice. I want the quiet of my own path.

And today, through yoga and meditation, I could feel that I am eliminating pain not by fighting it but by outgrowing it. My psychology is shifting toward stillness, toward clarity, toward the life I am building with my breath, my discipline, and my faith.

I am exactly who I say I am, and I am walking exactly where I am meant to walk.

Yoruba Yogi

Daily Reflection — “The Psychology of My Healing”

Another beautiful day. As I lay here, my mind traveled back through the years, not with pain anymore, but with understanding. I finally see my past from a spiritual place, not an emotional one. When I lost my job back then, the way it happened broke something inside me. Walking into work, doing my duties, and then being told to leave without warning—psychologically, that type of shock takes the breath out of a man. It wasn’t just losing income; it was losing identity.

And while I was trying to recover, something inside me just didn’t want to go back into that world. I didn’t want to fight for another job that could be taken from me the same way. So I ran. I read. I practiced yoga. Running became the place where my body and soul healed. Yoga became the place where I breathed again. Meditation became the place where I learned to listen to the silence inside me.

Back then, I hoped my partner and I could hold each other up, but money changes the psychology of a relationship. When one person earns and the other struggles, power shifts. Even if it’s never spoken, it’s felt. And in that silence, I saw how spiritual wisdom means nothing when you’re not making money—people don’t recognize it, even when the wisdom is real.

But today, from where I stand spiritually, I know the truth: I wasn’t broken. I was transforming.

When I look at others whose relationships ended for their own reasons—substances, ego, confusion—I see something clearly now: every path has its consequences. Financial struggle breaks some families. Substance use breaks others. But discipline, focus, and sobriety have kept me alive. They kept my spirit clean. They kept my mind clear.

And now I understand something I never saw back then:

My worth was never tied to my income. My wisdom was always there. My discipline was always there. My spiritual strength was always there.

Today, I look at all of it—the job loss, the divorce, the years of running, the meditation, the pain, the healing—and I see a man who refused to quit. A man who chose the spiritual path even when the world didn’t understand it. A man who chose silence over anger. A man who chose discipline over destruction.

I’m healed from that old chapter. It no longer defines me. I speak about it now not from hurt, but from spiritual experience. I understand the psychology of my past because I’ve lived through it, and I’ve risen above it.

Today I am grateful. I am disciplined. I am amazed by this journey.

And I continue forward—yoga, running, meditation, faith—strengthening this body and this spirit one breath at a time.

Yoruba Yogi