Today

 

Thursday Reflection — Yoruba Yogi

This morning I rose around 3:45 AM, cold, uncomfortable, but still grateful. The moment my feet touched my yoga mat, everything heavy disappeared. I breathed, twisted, bowed, and dropped into a silence that felt like guidance. Lately, something in me has shifted — I don’t feel the need to chase anything anymore. Life will meet me where I am. As my body moved through its practice, gratitude kept rising in my chest.

Walking outside afterward, I looked up at the moon, and a message came to me:

I never knew how disciplined I truly was.

Growing up, I didn’t recognize discipline as a gift. I let my environment tell me who I was, instead of listening to the strength already inside me. But now, even in the freezing cold, I still rise. I still move. I still breathe. And it shows me that my mindset is different from what it used to be.

I walked to church with my bags, turning the walk into meditation. I even began giving my walks little names — each one a moving prayer. I sat quietly in church, not for the message, but for the warmth and the chance to observe. When nothing landed for me, I stepped back out into the sun and jogged away, letting silence speak instead.

And that’s when I noticed something deeper:

True spiritual understanding makes you stop trying to teach.

People who speak the loudest, who try the hardest to guide others, are often still searching within themselves. Many want to feel important, to feel like they know something. But real teachers don’t need attention. Real wisdom doesn’t need applause.

My own speaking is different. I’m not here to tell anyone how to live. I live my life, and if someone learns something from my presence, that’s on its own. I’m not here to force wisdom, or to pretend I have all the answers. I’m just breathing, walking, listening, and letting my life speak without trying to impress anyone.

When I sit in different rooms, I watch people give advice they haven’t mastered, replace one addiction with another, or preach things they themselves haven’t yet lived. I’m not judging — I’m observing. I’m learning how the ego hides behind “guidance,” how people cling to talking so they don’t have to sit with their own silence.

At the same time, I see people who are curious about me, who feel something in how I live, but their own ego won’t let them ask. And that’s okay. Everyone awakens in their own time. I don’t chase anyone.

The biggest shift, though, is my understanding of the mind. When I walk into churches or recovery rooms now, I don’t go to be taught — I go to observe. I see how deeply fear shapes this culture. Fear tells people when to wake up, what to believe, who to follow. Fear becomes a teacher, but not a wise one.

Most people aren’t thinking — they’re repeating. The same messages, the same stories, the same patterns. It’s programming. Say something long enough, people will believe it without questioning. And because of that, many think that stopping a habit means healing. But stopping something isn’t transformation.

I learned the real work:

You must rewire your mind.

You must retrain your thoughts.

You must unlearn the beliefs that shaped you.

I spent years reading everything I could — scriptures, philosophy, psychology, Buddhism, Hinduism. I ran long distances that cracked my mind open. I meditated until silence taught me more than any sermon. I wrote until my handwriting carried courage instead of fear. I rebuilt myself thought by thought, mile by mile, breath by breath.

I didn’t realize how much of my early life was shaped by other people’s expectations. I let society, culture, and old beliefs tell me who I was. But now I see it clearly. I’m taking my mind back, piece by piece, and I can feel the strength growing inside me.

What amazes me most is how far I’ve come — how words that once intimidated me now come naturally, how thoughts that used to scare me have become my normal. It took years of discipline, years of silence, years of devotion. But the shift is real.

Right now my focus is simple:

Keep listening. Keep observing. Keep mastering my mind.

Because the mind is the real battlefield, and I’ve worked too hard to go backwards.

Today’s yoga was powerful.

Today’s silence was powerful.

Today’s clarity was powerful.

I am on my feet.

I am moving forward.

I am listening to life as it speaks in its own quiet way.

Yoruba Yogi