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