In the holy verse of Ìròsùn Méjì, Olódùmarè reminds us that the spirit remembers what the mind forgets.
When a child is born, the child comes with closed lips for within those lips lies the secret of the world the soul just left. Ìròsùn Méjì says that even when we walk the earth and forget who we are, our spirit carries the memory of heaven, waiting for something sacred a sound, a chant, a praise to awaken it again.
That is why, when you hear Yoruba ewi praising Olódùmarè, your body trembles. It is not mere emotion; it is ancestral remembrance. The spirit of your fathers and mothers recognizes the vibration. It says, “Ah, I know this sound. This is home.”
Ìròsùn Méjì teaches that destiny speaks in silence and sound alike. Sometimes, what we call “goosebumps” is not emotion it is the spirit bowing before its Source.
The Odù warns us never to despise our roots or the languages of our origin. For those languages are the original cables that connect spirit to Creator. When the world turned away from the tongue of the ancestors, they unplugged from their own divine current.
Ìròsùn Méjì whispers:
“Return to the rhythm that birthed you. Praise Olódùmarè in the sound of your bloodline.”
It tells us that salvation is not only found in foreign songs, but also in the drums of our people. The same Olódùmarè that listens in Hebrew and Greek, listens in Yoruba and Igbo and Fon.
So when you chant, “Olódùmarè o, Ẹlẹ́dàá òrun àti ayé!”
Orún does not just hear you; Orún remembers you.
Ìròsùn Méjì ends with a quiet counsel:
“A person who remembers where rain first began to beat them, will find where to dry their body.”
Return to your divine beginnings, and you will find peace again.
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