Many people have pulled me aside and whispered the same confession:
“I feel disconnected in prayer. I don’t know what to say.”

Some say this from within Christianity.
Some say it from within Òrìṣà tradition.
Some say it quietly because they are ashamed.

And I need you to hear me clearly —
you are not disconnected. You were never disconnected.
You were simply never taught your own voice.

Here in the diaspora, we are relearning everything that was taken from us —
from the language
to the pronunciation
to the rituals
to the Oriki
to the very way our ancestors greeted the morning.

We didn’t lose spirituality.
We lost vocabulary.

And vocabulary is not power.
Spirit is.

There are priests, especially those who know you are eager to reconnect,
who will tell you that your prayers have no àṣẹ
unless they sound exactly like theirs.
Unless you pay.
Unless they approve of the language you use.

And I will say this with my whole chest:
That is manipulation.
That is capitalism.
That is fear.
Not tradition.

Before there was Yoruba, there were older tongues.
Before there were older tongues, there were sounds.
Before sounds, there were vibrations — breath, hums, rhythm, intention.

We forget that language itself is a tool, not the source.
Ancestors responded to sincerity before they responded to syllables.

Your great-great-grandmother who prayed under a tree
with no formal Oriki
still got her prayers answered.
Your father who cried out in English or whispered in silence
still reached the divine.

Why?

Because spirit recognizes vibration,
not grammar.
Because your Ori responds to truth,
not accent.
Because Olódùmarè is not a linguist,
but the source of all sound.

This is why I have devoted my mission to practicing and preserving Ifá Isese —
not from a place of arrogance,
not to posture as someone who “knows better,”
but to continue the work our people were interrupted from.

I honor the customs.
I honor the language.
I honor the Oriki.
But I also honor the truth:
every soul has the right to speak.
Every mouth carries àṣẹ.
Every breath is prayer.

Your prayer is valid.
Your voice is enough.
Your connection is real.
And nothing in this universe is waiting on someone else to approve your relationship with the divine.

We are the continuation —
not the copy,
not the imitation,
not the lost children.

We are the ones who remembered.
And remembering is the highest form of devotion.

Àṣẹ.

No begging. No pleading. Only praise, alignment, authority, gratitude, and command.

Ori Prayer jazz, mystical, bounce, sensual, female vocals, breathy, smooth, jazzy, warm.

Glad you enjoy it.

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