When the Tools Start Holding Us: A Message from Ògún
Ògún, Modern Progress, and the Depth We’re Trading Away
Ẹ káàárọ̀ (Good morning)
Imagine this: you open an old box that has survived moves, decades, even whole eras of your family’s life. Inside are letters—real ones. Paper softened by time, ink that has outlived its writer, envelopes with stamps from places your grandparents once called “far.” You begin to read and it’s not just information; it’s a living presence. A long, unfolding conversation stretching across years, where people took their time with each other, wrestled with ideas, argued respectfully, confessed fears, described ordinary days in extraordinary detail, and returned again and again to the same themes with patience and depth.
You can almost hear them thinking on the page. And then a question arrives that doesn’t feel like nostalgia, but like a warning:
What will be left of us?
What inheritance will the next generation open, if so much of our communication is compressed into WhatsApp fragments, reaction emojis, disappearing videos, and half-sentences typed at speed? Where does reflection live when everything is optimized for immediacy? Where do devotion, self-examination, and the slow work of becoming a better human being go when the format of our lives trains us to skim, scroll, and move on?
Progress gave us speed, yes. But has it also stolen depth—and with it, a certain kind of tenderness?
Ògún’s medicine is not more technology; it’s right relationship with power
In the Orìṣà tradition, Ògún is the intelligence of iron—the force that turns vision into structure. He governs tools, roads, industry, and the disciplines that make a city function. In modern terms, Ògún lives in the steel of bridges and trains, in the blade that cooks a meal, in the systems that keep hospitals running, and in the circuitry and code that shape how we relate to one another.
That’s why it’s a mistake to frame Ògún as anti-technology. Ògún is not against tools. Ògún is against waste, against carelessness, against power without conscience. Iron is sacred because it’s useful, and usefulness—real usefulness—should improve life.
Which brings us to the heart of the matter: technology is only a blessing when it serves human well-being. If it makes you faster but less present, more connected but less intimate, more informed but less wise, then the tool has quietly crossed a line. It has stopped being a machete clearing a road and started becoming a chain.
In plain language: the question is not “Is it advanced?” The question is, “What good does it bring?” Does it strengthen your relationships, expand your capacity for patience, create more time for what matters, improve the way communities care for each other, support health, dignity, and peace of mind? Or does it simply keep you busy, stimulated, and vaguely dissatisfied?
A Yoruba reminder about what we choose to follow
There is a saying preserved in the Ifá corpus that lands sharply in this moment:
“Ẹni a bá wá dé làá báá re’lé.”
“The one we follow out is the one we should return home with.”
In other words, what you devote yourself to shapes what you become. If your days train you to communicate in fragments, you may slowly lose your ability to hold complexity. If your attention is continuously pulled outward, you may forget how to enter your own inner world. If every feeling is processed through a screen, you may become fluent in reaction and less fluent in reflection.
And that’s the quiet tragedy: we don’t only lose skills like letter-writing; we risk losing the inner posture that letter-writing required—patience, thoughtfulness, emotional accuracy, and the courage to sit with an idea long enough for it to mature.
Benefit-driven progress: the Ògún test
Here’s a simple Ògún standard you can use without guilt or drama. When you’re about to adopt a new tool, platform, habit, or “upgrade,” ask:
Will this bring ìrẹ—a real blessing—into my life?
Not hype. Not novelty. Not the feeling of being “ahead.” But benefit that you can actually name, such as:
more time with the people you love, with fewer interruptions
deeper focus and better work, instead of constant switching
healthier sleep and a calmer nervous system
more honesty in communication, not just more frequency
more lived experience, not just more content
If the answer is unclear, that’s already an answer. Ògún respects clarity. Ifá respects outcomes. A tool that does not serve your well-being will eventually demand your life-force as payment—your attention, your calm, your relationships, your depth.
A short, non-elaborate Ògún alignment practice (10 minutes)
This is not a big ritual. It’s a reset of intention—very Ògún, very practical.
What you need: a metal key (or any small piece of iron) and a glass of water.
Place the key beside the water and say softly:
“Ògún, jọ̀wọ́ fún mi ní ọgbọ́n láti lo irin fún ìrẹ.”
“Ògún, please grant me the wisdom to use iron for blessing.”
Then choose one action that restores depth—the kind of depth your ancestors’ letters carried:
Write a one-page note by hand to someone you respect or miss. Don’t rush it. Let it be a real record of your mind.
Read something slowly for ten minutes with your phone out of reach, not to “finish,” but to enter the author’s thought.
Have one conversation today without multitasking, where you listen long enough to hear what is underneath the words.
Finally, when you return to your phone, do it like a practitioner—not like someone being pulled. Before opening your most-used app, ask: “What good will this bring to my life or my relationships right now?” That one sentence turns technology back into a tool.
If you sit with those old letters long enough, you realize the inheritance isn’t only the content—it’s the pace. It’s the proof that a human mind can stay with a feeling, stay with a question, stay with another person, long enough for something true to form. That kind of attention is a spiritual technology too, and it deserves protection.
So this is the invitation, city to city and generation to generation: let the modern world keep its iron, but let Ògún keep it honest. Let speed serve care, let convenience serve community, and let “progress” be measured by what it restores—presence at the table, depth in conversation, and a life that still leaves a meaningful record behind.
May your tools stay in your hands, not in your head. May your roads open without costing you your softness. May you build a future that your descendants can recognize as human.
Ìború, Ìboyà, Ìbọ̀ṣẹ̀. (May it be received, may it bring courage, may it manifest.)
Babá Tilo de Àjàgùnnà
DAILY IFÁ
Questions to Deepen the Work
Ask the GPT Link “VOICE OF ORISHA”:
“How can I honor Ògún through disciplined technology use without losing tenderness and depth?”
“What boundary would Ògún want me to set so my tools serve my life?”
Ask the GPT Link “WISDOM OF IFÁ”:
“Which Odu speaks to speed replacing reflection, and what correction does it recommend?”
“How does Ifá define true benefit (ìrẹ) in communication and relationships?”
We were just discussing OGUN Day preparations in April in the ILE ...Another Beautifully Powerful Daily IFA..we have discussions after we read them..Mo Dupe Ase Baba Tilo