Welcome to this meditation.
Imagine yourself standing beside a wide,
Slow-moving river at the close of the day.
The air is warm,
Carrying the scent of water and wood smoke,
Touched by a hint of honeysuckle from the far bank.
Before you rests a grand,
Three-storey paddle steamer,
An elegant,
Old vessel of polished mahogany and brass railings.
Lanterns flicker along the deck,
Their golden light dancing on the rippling surface below.
The great paddle wheel turns slowly at the stern,
Lifting and folding the river into rhythmic movement.
There's a deep,
Steady hum within the hull,
A pulse that feels like the heartbeat of the earth itself.
You step aboard,
The wooden deck creaks softly underfoot.
You feel safe,
Sheltered,
As though stepping into another time.
You follow a narrow corridor to your cabin,
A beautiful room with panelled wooden walls,
Lace curtains that dance in the soft evening breeze,
And the faint scent of lemon oil and old books.
A brass lamp glows on a writing desk.
Beside it,
A small journal rests unopened.
Its cover is smooth and worn,
Like something waiting for you to touch.
Beyond the open balcony doors,
The last light of sun spills gold and rose across the river.
You step outside and take a seat on your balcony chair.
Beneath you,
The low thrum of the engines vibrate gently through the timbers.
The sound is soothing,
Like a lullaby of the deep.
You pick up a cool glass beside you and take a slow sit and let your shoulders fall as you start to relax.
The air smells of river reeds,
Warm metal,
And the faint sweetness of magnolia drifting from the banks.
The captain sounds a soft whistle,
And the boat begins to move.
Ropes loosen,
And the dock slips away,
A forward flow that feels both grounding and free.
You watch the river unfold ahead,
A gleaming path of light stretching towards the horizon.
Behind you,
The town fades into haze.
You breathe in the warm glow of the sunset,
Feeling it soften your skin,
Fill your chest,
And start to open your heart.
The sunset itself feels symbolic,
A beautiful surrender.
It doesn't resist the coming night.
It lets go with grace,
Colouring the world one last time before falling into stillness.
A quiet reminder that endings can be beautiful,
And that release is a kind of art.
Now take a slow,
Deep breath in,
And a gentle,
Long breath out.
Allow that truth to settle within you.
You glance at the small notebook on the table beside you,
Its pages fresh,
Untouched.
You open it.
The first page glows faintly in the amber light of the setting sun.
This notebook is your invitation to release,
To write in your mind's eye the things that no longer serve you,
And to let the river carry them away.
You pick up your pen.
The boat glides steadily forward.
The paddle wheels turn slow,
Deep,
And rhythmically,
Like the breath of the world.
On this first page,
Write something from your past that still weighs heavy upon you.
Perhaps it's a moment you replay too often,
A regret,
Words left unsaid,
A version of yourself that no longer feels true.
See the words form on the paper.
Breathe into those words once more,
Acknowledging what they've taught you,
And then gently start to tear the page free from the book.
Hold it for a moment in your hands,
The breeze catching its edges.
You watch it flutter from your balcony,
Glowing gold into the dying light before it lands softly on the water below.
It drifts backward,
Caught by the current,
Until it disappears into the wide ripples of the night.
The river accepts it,
No judgement,
No resistance,
Only flow.
On the next page,
Write down any expectations,
Something you've carried that feels heavy or confining.
Maybe it's the need to always be strong,
Or to meet everyone's needs before your own.
Perhaps it's the silent standard that whispers you must always achieve,
Always strive.
Let the words pour onto the page.
Notice how your body softens as you write in your mind's eye,
As though laying down armour you didn't realise you were wearing.
Now tear this page out too.
Hold it up to the fading light,
And then release it.
Watch it spiral gently down,
Turning once,
Twice,
Before landing on the water and joining the first in the flow downstream.
The sun has now touched the horizon,
The sky alive with orange and violet.
Now write in your notebook a fear that has followed you,
The kind that lingers in quiet moments,
Fear of being seen,
Of failing,
Of not being enough,
Or perhaps the fear of change,
Of what lies beyond the familiar.
Let the pen move.
You don't have to fix anything,
Only name it.
Breathing slowly you tear the page free from the book.
You feel a lightness in your chest as you let it go.
The river folds it into the current,
Dissolving it into motion.
The paddle wheels turn on,
Steady and sure,
Transforming what was once weight into movement.
The sky deepens,
The first stars emerge.
I invite you now to write something or someone you've compared yourself to,
A picture,
A story,
A standard that has kept you from seeing your own beauty,
Your own worth.
See the words take shape,
Then pause.
Look out at the vastness of the river,
How it curves and shines without competing with the sky,
Each ripple perfect in its difference.
Now gently remove the page and let it drift into the darkness,
Catching one last glint of sunlight before it's gone.
There's only one page remaining now.
The river now glows beneath the moonlight,
The paddle wheel turning slower,
Calmer.
Here you write the belief that whispers you are less than enough,
The thought that keeps you small,
That hides your light.
See it there written on the page,
And as you read it once more,
Feel a quiet truth rise inside you,
That this belief was never yours to begin with.
You tear the page out.
It flutters away,
Joins the river,
And fades.
One by one they all have been released.
The notebook now lies open with fresh new empty pages,
Each waiting ready for new stories,
New beginnings to be written.
But for now you set down your pen,
You lean back into your chair,
And you take a deep inhale,
And a long slow cathartic exhale as you release the last remnants of what's been holding you back.
The riverboat hums softly beneath you,
Moving steadily through the night.
The air has cooled,
The stars shimmer in perfect stillness,
You feel weightless,
Calm,
Unhurried,
Free.
The river stretches ahead,
Silver under moonlight,
Vast,
Open,
Infinite,
And you understand that the river is life itself,
Ever flowing,
Ever changing,
Ever carrying you forward.
You whisper to yourself,
I am lighter now,
I am free,
I am ready to flow forward.
Let those words echo through you as the sound of water and paddle merge into the rhythm with your breath.
The river carries you onward,
Not away from yourself,
But into yourself,
Into peace,
Into truth,
Into the simple,
Spacious grace of being.
Rest here,
Letting the movement of the river rock you gently towards stillness.
The sunset spilled its final hue,
As soft steam rose the daylight flew.
Each page I wrote,
Then let it fall,
The river took and healed it all.
Beneath the wheel the waters turned,
Each ripple whispering lessons learned.
The past unbound,
The night drew near,
Yet in that dark my path grew clear.
I watched the pages drift and gleam,
Like fallen stars upon the stream,
And as they vanished,
Light and free,
The river flowed and set me free.
This river of life will always be here for you,
Patiently waiting for when you're ready to return,
To release,
To renew,
And to begin again.
Now join me in taking a final deep breath in,
Hold it,
And then with an open mouth and a cathartic sigh just set yourself free.
You are free,
You are whole,
And the river flows through you.
Namaste.
