All fortunes

Browse every yuru on the site. Pick whichever emoji catches your eye.

Take a sip of tea today, and let your shoulders drop.
A no-rush day. Take notes from a sloth.
Just look up at the sky. That's enough.
Fresh bread with butter. Some days, that's enough.
Put the phone down for five minutes. Your head clears.
Just one rice ball. Life keeps going.
Cats sleep when they want. So can you, today.
A glass of water. Your body isn't that complicated.
Rain is free therapy.
An otter-handholding kind of day.
Soak in hot water. Life becomes half-forgivable.
Just looking at a bookshelf settles your head a little.
Find the moon. The night gets a little special.
Play your favorite song. One more time.
Walk with no destination. That's the best kind.
Three slow breaths. The temperature of the world drops.
Waddle forward, like a penguin. That's enough.
Point yourself toward something green today.
Bed is half the world.
Off days exist. That's allowed.
One sip of something warm. That's the start.
Today, wait. You don't have to act yet.
Let birds start your morning.
Stretch both arms way up.
Turn off one light tonight.
Move at turtle pace. Still arrives.
Write the worry on paper. Then crumple it.
Open a window. Trade the air.
Forgetting is a skill.
Lean back. Do nothing for five minutes.
Put on your warmest socks and feel the day soften.
Chew slowly today. Your jaw has been rushing too.
Wrap both hands around something warm.
Watch something steam. That's your meditation for today.
Your back has been curled up all day. Uncurl it, gently.
Let yourself yawn. A big, shameless, full-body yawn.
Tidy one drawer. Just one. That's enough.
Smell the coffee before you drink it. Linger there.
Fold a blanket neatly. Feel the calm settle in.
Peel a citrus fruit. Let the scent wake up the room.
Watch the clouds for a while. They're not in a hurry either.
Listen to rain on the roof. Real or recorded, it works.
Make toast. Hold it in your hands before you eat it.
Blink slowly, like a cat showing trust.
Lean on a doorframe. Let it hold you up for a second.
Pick up a heavy book. Feel its weight in your hands.
Look at your hands. Really look. They've done a lot.
Finish one small thing. Just one. Let it be done.
Sit on the floor. Sometimes you need to be low.
Watch the kettle boil. Don't walk away this time.
Let the shower run a little longer today.
Some things just need sun and time.
Listen for the rustle of paper today.
Pick up a leaf today. Look at it closely.
Today is heavy. Let yourself sigh.
Watch something float today. Ducks are ideal.
Wrap yourself in something soft. Today asks for gentleness.
Peel an orange slowly. Let the scent fill the room.
Hold something made of wood today.
Find a sunbeam and sit in it like a cat.
Seek out the scent of pine or cedar today.
Fluff your pillow tonight. Make it a cloud.
A bowl of warm rice is enough.
Hold warm bread in your hands before you eat it.
Slip into something comfortable the moment you get home.
Look at the farthest point you can see today.
Brew something with your full attention today.
The kitchen is quietest at night. Visit it.
Use the nice cup today. The one you're saving.
Some mornings start foggy. That's not a bad sign.
Your feet carried you all day. Give them a quiet moment.
Your neck holds more than you think. Roll it slowly.
Slurp something warm today. It barely asks anything of you.
Made a small mistake? Erase it gently, like pencil.
Your hands have been clenched. Open them, slowly.
Soften your gaze. Look at nothing in particular.
Let something sweet melt slowly. Don't rush it.
Loosen something tight. Your collar, your belt, your grip.
Enjoy a treat without earning it first.
On a heavy morning, just sit up. That's enough to start.
Name one small good thing from today. Just one.
You don't have to be sharp today. A dull pencil still writes.
Let the first warm sip be enough to settle you.
When your battery runs low, it's okay to power down.
If you're a night person, stop apologizing for it.
A gap in your day isn't a failure. It's space.
Float today. Don't paddle. Let the current carry you.
If a small plan falls through, let it fall.
Let small rests pile up quietly, like snow.
Not every moment has to be good. Some are just filler.
Let the air move across your skin for a moment.
Stillness is doing something. Moss knows this.
Lost something? Breathe first, then look.
Wrap yourself up and stay there a while.
Carry one small comforting object in your pocket.
Hit snooze once, guilt-free. You're allowed a slow start.
Let a small lucky moment land on you. Don't grab.
Notice something beautiful, and let it be brief.
Sit down fully. Let the seat take all your weight.
Count something slow tonight, until your mind goes quiet.