Clture

 Another beautiful day.

I notice how much I am listening now.

To the sun.

To the moon.

To my breath.

To my body.

I carry a notebook everywhere because something in me wants to remember.

Not facts — meaning.

Writing has become a way of staying present.

Reading no longer feels like entertainment.

It feels like prayer.

Each page reminds me how much there is to learn,

and how little I truly know.

As I slow down, my body teaches me.

It shows me how thought travels through the spine.

How patience lives in the nervous system.

How humility calms the mind.

When I rest, anxiety softens.

When I bow, I rise differently.

I understand now that beginnings are quiet.

Nothing rushes into form.

Everything starts slowly —

like a child learning how to stand,

like legs remembering how to run again.

I study the body the way one studies scripture.

With respect.

With curiosity.

With gratitude.

Living close to nature has reminded me that I am seen.

That I am held.

That I do not need to force anything.

I feel a deep gratitude for where I come from.

For the wisdom that shaped me.

For the questions that were planted early

and are only now beginning to bloom.

I no longer compare my path to others.

Every life unfolds in its own rhythm.

What matters is alignment, not approval.

I have walked many miles.

Enough to understand that endurance is not speed.

It is presence repeated daily.

Running, reading, breathing, sitting in silence —

these have been my work.

And I no longer apologize for that.

The last layer of ego is loosening.

The need to explain is fading.

Surrender feels lighter than resistance ever did.

I trust this moment.

I trust the discipline that carried me here.

I trust the intelligence of my body

and the quiet guidance of the universe.

I am not escaping life.

I am meeting it fully.

This is not the end of anything.

It is the beginning of contribution.

Of service.

Of truth lived gently.

I stay here.

I listen.

I remain open.

I am returning to myself.

Yoruba Yogi.

Slow down

 I am learning that strength does not rush.

It waits.

It listens.

It breathes.

The body is not something I command anymore.

It is something I consult.

When I slow down, I feel everything.

When I breathe, space appears.

When I rest, intelligence speaks.

What I once tried to escape — the pause, the child’s pose, the stillness —

has become the doorway.

Endurance is no longer force.

It is patience stretched over time.

I see now that trust is a posture.

So is fear.

So is surrender.

The body remembers what the mind forgot.

I move slowly not because I am tired,

but because I am listening.

I no longer need speed to feel alive.

I need presence.

Others move through their pain the only way they know how.

I do not need to correct them.

I only need to remain aligned.

Truth does not argue.

It settles.

The moon teaches me to receive.

The sun teaches me to rise.

The body teaches me when to bow.

I am not becoming something new.

I am returning to what was always here.

Yoruba Yogi.

Saturday

 Tonight, I tell myself the truth.

I admit what my ego protected me from for years.I was in love.I didn’t want to say it, because love meant loss,and loss meant pain.

I loved deeply.I tried to be present.I tried to provide.When things didn’t work, I turned the pain inward and went quiet—not because I didn’t care,but because I cared too much.I see now that sometimes love isn’t enough to heal someone else’s wounds.And sometimes, no matter how much you give, people still leave.That doesn’t mean I failed as a man.It means I was human.

I grieved in silence.I ran.I read.I meditated.I practiced yoga.I stayed sober.I stayed alive.

For years, I didn’t move on because my heart wasn’t finished understanding.Tonight, it is.I forgive myself for not being able to save everything.I forgive myself for losing interest when my spirit was tired.

I forgive myself for surviving the only way I knew how.I miss my child.I always have.Love never left—only the circumstances changed.

Tonight, I release the need to chase the past.

I release the shame.I release the story that I should have been stronger than I was.I honor the love that was real.

I honor the discipline that saved me.

I honor the silence that taught me.

Tonight, I accept what happened without bitterness.

I accept myself without judgment.

And I allow my heart to open again—

not backward, but forward.

I am grateful.

I am still here.

And I am ready for what comes next.

Yoruba Yogi.

Talking to my higher self

 I’m learning to listen without needing to respond.

I notice how quiet feels different now.

Not empty.

Clear.

The more I return to my body, the less I need to explain myself.

Movement softens the mind.

Breath organizes the noise.

Stillness tells the truth.

I see how people connect through stories of the past,

and I understand it.

But I’m learning a different language—

presence.

I don’t reject what was.

I simply don’t live there anymore.

Silence doesn’t isolate me.

It aligns me.

The body teaches what words cannot.

When I stretch, when I breathe, when I sit,

something releases that was never meant to be carried forever.

Humility comes without shame.

I don’t need to be above or below.

I just need to be here.

I feel guided now by simple things:

the intelligence of the mind,

the warmth that gives life,

the rhythm that reflects it.

I don’t need permission to trust what I feel.

I don’t need agreement to remain peaceful.

I observe.

I learn.

I stay gentle.

And when the world feels loud,

I return inward—

where everything already makes sense.

— Yoruba Yogi