Yoga Nidra For Winter’s Rest

Welcome to this Yoga Nidra,

A journey of deep rest and renewal.

Together we'll honour the transition from autumn into winter,

The shift from movement to stillness,

From external energy to inner quiet.

Ok,

Let's begin with three lion's breaths to help balance us and calm us.

Join me in taking a deep inhale,

Fully inflating the lungs,

Sticking the tongue down to the chin and then forcing all the air out,

Three times.

When you're ready.

Even bigger breaths.

Last one.

Good,

Now just take a moment to relax the face and jaw,

Place a large artificial smile on your face and feel the whole face contract.

Now relax it,

Open the mouth and waggle the bottom jaw till you feel any tension that may be there unwittingly dissolve.

When you're ready,

Slowly bring your lips back together and just allow your bottom jaw to hang within your closed mouth.

Notice how everything is beginning to slow,

Just as nature slows with the turning of the seasons.

Feel as winter starts to arrive,

Noticing how nature slows,

Nothing to do but rest,

How the animals rest,

The plants rest and how winter invites you to do the same.

Picture yourself effortlessly following this rhythm of nature,

Slowing down,

Resting for a while,

Without guilt,

Without the need to do,

Knowing it's perfectly natural to pause now.

Embrace the joy of simply resting,

Effortless.

See your body being rejuvenated and healed as you rest,

And notice how,

In this space of stillness,

Reflection arises naturally.

Ok,

Before we begin,

Make sure you're fully comfortable.

Find a quiet space where your body can be completely supported.

Lie down and use any cushions,

Bolsters or blankets to create your own warm cozy nest,

Your winter shelter to rest in.

And as you do,

Remember that this is your time,

A time to let go,

A time to receive,

A time to restore.

To help prepare your mind and body,

I invite you to say to yourself the following three times using your inner voice.

Here begins the practice of yoga nidra.

I will allow myself to relax completely.

I will receive the rest I need to receive.

I will stay awake and I will welcome peace into my whole being.

Here begins the practice of yoga nidra.

I will allow myself to relax completely.

I will receive the rest I need to receive.

I will stay awake and I will welcome in peace into my whole being.

Here begins the practice of yoga nidra.

I will allow myself to relax completely.

I will receive the rest I need to receive.

I will stay awake and I will welcome in peace into my whole being.

Now let your awareness settle on your natural breath.

Using each gentle exhale to settle into your space a little bit further.

Each exhale like leaves falling,

Effortlessly carrying away what no longer is needed.

Let's begin by turning your awareness outward.

Without opening your eyes,

Sense the space around you.

Notice the sounds,

Perhaps distant,

Perhaps close,

Like the whispers of wind through bare branches.

Feel the coolness of the air against your skin,

The soft hush of winter arriving.

Sense the gentle weight of warmth from your blanket or your clothes,

Holding you like a cocoon.

Now expand your awareness to your left side.

Sense the spaciousness there.

Shift your awareness above you.

Feel the openness of the sky,

Wide,

Still and quiet.

Now move to your right side.

Notice the subtle presence there,

As if the world is waiting in stillness.

And now finally beneath you.

Feel the steady support of the earth,

Grounding you as securely as roots holding trees in winter's embrace.

Invite you now to plant a quiet,

Wintry intention,

One that honors the stillness,

Rest and renewal of winter.

Let it be simple,

Nurturing and calm.

Now silently repeat to yourself three times.

I open myself to the season of rest and reflection.

I surrender in deep relaxation.

I am safe to be still.

I open myself to the season of rest and reflection.

I surrender in deep relaxation.

I am safe to be still.

I open myself to the season of rest and reflection.

I surrender in deep relaxation.

I am safe to be still.

Let these words drift down into every inch of your being,

Like snowflakes settling on quiet ground.

Allow them to rest gently within you,

Creating ripples of peace through the body and mind.

Now start letting your breath slow and soften.

Imagine breathing gently enough that a feather beneath your nose would barely stir.

Now bring your awareness to your face.

Start with the space between your eyebrows.

Imagine it widening,

Softening as though the skin there were gently spreading apart.

Let your forehead smooth,

The skin opening and light.

Allow your eyelids to grow heavy,

The muscles around your eyes unravelling as though the corners of your eyes were drifting back towards your temples.

If there's any trace of tension here,

Just let it dissolve.

Now turn your awareness to your lips.

If they're closed,

Let them simply rest together,

Barely touching.

If they're apart,

That's fine too,

No effort is needed here.

Soften the skin around your mouth and let your cheeks follow.

Now move to your jaw.

Imagine the lower jaw gently falling away from the upper jaw.

Not a big movement,

Just enough space for ease to rest.

Let this sense of release spread deeper through the gums,

The roots of the teeth,

The tongue resting heavy and soft within the mouth.

Notice how even the back of the throat feels open,

As though the whole face were sighing into stillness.

Now let that softness ripple down through your neck,

Into your shoulders.

Feel your shoulders melting away from your ears,

Heavy and loose.

Moving down your arms,

To your elbows,

To your wrists.

Right down to your fingertips,

Resting in gravity's hands.

Imagine your palms softening,

The lines in your hands gently releasing.

The backs of your hands warm and still.

Bring your awareness to your chest.

With each inhale let it gently rise and float,

Like a boat on calm water.

With each exhale,

Feel it settle back,

Steady and quiet.

Notice how your upper back broadens,

The space between your shoulder blades opening,

As though the whole torso is breathing with you.

Now soften through your hips,

The back of your pelvis loosening into support.

Let this wave of ease travel down through your thighs,

Along the calves and shins,

All the way to your ankles.

Allow your feet to rest naturally,

Without control,

Simply falling into place.

Now take a moment to sense your whole body,

Face,

Arms,

Chest,

Hips and legs,

Connected,

Balanced,

Supported.

Each exhale releases you a little more,

Each pause in the breath a moment of calm.

Now become aware of your breath,

There's no need to change it,

Simply notice the gentle rhythm of how you're breathing.

As you exhale,

Feel yourself letting go of any fatigue,

Stress or lingering tension,

Like the last leaves falling from the tree.

As you inhale,

Feel yourself drawing in a quiet warmth,

A soft winter light.

Exhaling,

Releasing what has been.

Inhaling,

Welcoming in nourishment and renewal.

Exhaling from the crown of the head down to your toes.

Inhaling from the toes up to the crown of the head.

Exhaling from the crown down to your ankles.

Inhaling from the ankles up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down to your knees.

Inhaling from the knees up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to your tailbone.

Inhaling from the tailbone up the spine to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to your navel.

Inhaling from the navel up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to the heart center.

Inhaling from the heart center up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down to the throat center.

Inhaling from the throat up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down to the space between the nostrils.

Inhaling from the bridge between the nostrils up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to the throat center.

Inhaling from the throat up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to the heart center.

Inhaling from the heart up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to the navel.

Inhaling from the navel up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down the spine to the tailbone.

Inhaling from the tailbone up to the crown.

Exhaling from the crown down to the knees.

Inhale from the knees up to the crown.

Exhale from the crown down to the ankles.

Inhale from the ankles up to the crown.

Exhale from the crown down to the toes.

Inhale from the toes all the way up to the crown.

Just notice now how your whole body is breathing.

Inhaling the quiet light of winter.

Exhaling what no longer needs to be carried.

Inhaling calm and restoration.

Exhaling effort and fatigue.

Now just let yourself rest here for a few breaths.

Breathing in the stillness of the season.

Breathing out everything you're ready to release.

We're going to continue now by exploring sensations within the body,

The subtle language of the mind.

First invite in the sensation of heaviness.

Feel the whole body becoming heavy as though the earth is drawing you closer.

Like falling leaves resting on the forest floor,

You're sinking into stillness.

The right leg,

Heavy,

Solid,

Unmoving.

Now the left leg,

Equally heavy,

Grounded,

Sinking deeper.

The hips,

Back,

Chest.

Each becoming heavier and heavier,

Held by the surface beneath you.

The shoulders soften,

Sinking down.

The arms and hands heavy like stones resting by a winter riverbank.

The neck,

The back of the head,

Sinking,

Deeply supported.

The entire body heavy now,

Weighted,

Anchored,

Rooted to the earth,

Completely at rest.

Now release the sensation of heaviness,

Let it dissolve,

Let go of the weight.

Now gently awaken the opposite sensation,

Lightness.

Feel the whole body filling with spaciousness,

As though filling with winter air as it lifts you up.

Like snowflakes drifting,

The body becomes lighter and lighter.

The right leg,

Light,

Almost lifting away.

The left leg,

Airy,

Floating upward.

The arms and hands,

Light as feathers in the breeze.

The torso and hips,

Rising as though buoyed by air.

The head,

Spacious,

Weightless,

Floating free.

The entire body light now,

Floating,

Airborne,

Effortless.

Now let go of the lightness,

Release the sensation and return to stillness.

Notice something important.

These sensations of heaviness and lightness were not created by external forces.

They were created by the mind.

You are aware now.

The mind can manifest sensations and the mind can release sensations.

And you are now aware of your mind.

Now gently repeat to yourself quietly,

I am not the mind.

I am not the mind.

I am not the mind.

Allow this awareness to settle.

There's no effort here.

Just resting.

Awake.

Aware.

While the deeper aspects of yourself reveal themselves,

One by one,

Effortlessly.

Like the quiet unfolding of the winter season.

There's nothing you need to do.

I invite you now to imagine that you're walking along a quiet path that winds its way into the forest.

The sun is warm on your skin,

Soaking into you like a gentle embrace.

The air carries the faint sweetness of wild flowers and freshly cut grass.

Somewhere in the distance,

A bee hums lazily from bloom to bloom.

Above the canopy is thick and green,

Each leaf alive with the vibrant pulse of summer.

Birdsong pours down in waves,

Robins,

Blackbirds,

Thrushes,

A choir of energy and life.

The ground beneath your feet is soft and forgiving,

A mixture of soil and summer growth.

You notice the colour of the wildflowers,

Yellows,

Purples,

Whites,

Swaying in the warm breeze.

A butterfly drifts past,

Its wings catching the sunlight like stained glass.

Everything around you feels rich,

Expansive,

Alive.

This is summer,

A season of passion,

Of growth,

Of youth.

You pause a moment in gratitude,

Breathing in the warmth and vibrance.

And then as you continue along the path,

Something begins to shift.

Time itself seems to flow differently here.

The warmth softens,

A breeze brushes your cheek with a cooler edge.

The sunlight changes,

Not as fierce but slanting golden,

Flowing between the trees in long liquid beams.

The forest air grows richer,

Damp with the scent of fallen leaves.

Above you,

The canopy begins to change.

Green gives way to flame,

Leaves glow amber,

Russet,

Crimson and bronze.

The edges curl and flicker in the light,

As though the trees themselves have caught fire.

One by one,

The leaves loosen,

They spiral down slowly,

Brushing your shoulders as they fall,

Settling into a deep colourful carpet at your feet.

Each step makes a gentle crunch,

The sound rhythmic,

Soothing,

Grounded.

Overhead,

A flock of geese gathers in a wide V,

Their cries echoing across the sky.

You watch as they turn south,

Their wings carving long arcs through the air.

Closer,

Squirrels start from branch to branch,

Their tails flicking as they gather and store.

At the base of trees,

Mushrooms push their way up through the damp earth,

Small reminders of life's endless cycle of growth and decay.

This is autumn,

A season of change and transition,

Of abundance,

Maturity and preparation.

The forest itself is teaching you to shed what is no longer needed,

To let go with grace,

To trust the wisdom of impermanence.

As you walk deeper still,

The forest changes once more.

The air sharpens,

Cold against your cheeks,

Crisp against your breath.

When you exhale,

A soft mist curls upward into the chill.

The path beneath your foot hardens,

Frost silvering the edges of fallen leaves.

Each step rings with a brittle crispness,

As if the forest itself is crystallizing.

The canopy has thinned,

Branches stretch bare against the pale sky.

Snow begins to drift down slow,

Weightless flakes touching your skin with cool whispers before vanishing.

The forest is quieter now,

Birdsong has stilled,

Replaced by the low sigh of wind through empty branches.

From far off,

An owl calls once,

Its sound echoing into the twilight.

This is winter,

A season of endings and stillness,

Yet also of renewal and preparation.

Beneath the frozen ground,

Roots are deepening.

In the hush of silence,

New dreams are forming.

And then you see it ahead,

A cabin nestled amongst the trees,

Its roof dusted with snow,

Windows glowing with golden light,

Smoke curling up into the cold evening sky,

Carrying the scent of pine and wood fire.

You step up to the door and open it.

Inside the air is warm,

Fragrant with burning logs.

The fire crackles in the hearth,

Its glow spilling across the wooden floor.

You take off the cloak of summer,

Its brightness,

Its striving,

And hang it gently by the door.

You release autumn's harvest with gratitude,

Trusting that it has given you all that you need for the winter.

Here in your winter cabin,

You prepare.

You stack wood by the fire,

Filling the rough texture of bark beneath your hands.

You fill shelves with bread,

Grains,

And root vegetables,

Their earthy aroma grounding you in comfort.

Lanterns flicker softly in the corners,

Casting pools of light that sway with each movement of air.

You wrap a blanket around your shoulders,

Its weight warm and reassuring.

A cup of something hot rests in your hands,

Steam rising,

Brushing your face.

You settle into a chair by the fire.

The flames dance,

Their shadows painting the walls.

Outside the forest lies silent,

The faint sigh of wind passing through bare trees,

The occasional crack of shifting ice.

The world has slowed,

And in this slowing,

You're invited to rest.

Winter may bring solitude,

Stillness,

And challenge,

Yet within it lies renewal,

Patience,

And deep growth.

It is here in the quiet that dreams take root.

It is here in the darkness that the promise of light is born.

And so as you rest by the fire,

Grateful for summer's passion and growth,

For autumn's wisdom and release,

For winter's stillness and renewal,

You are safe,

You are held,

And you are part of the eternal rhythm of change,

A rhythm that guides you gently,

Always toward life,

Always toward light.

As you sit in the glow,

You sense the quiet promise woven through the season,

That beneath the snow seeds are waiting,

That within the silence dreams are forming,

That after every winter there's always spring.

You carry this knowing within you now that change is not to be feared,

But embraced,

That endings hold beginnings,

That stillness prepares the way for growth.

And so you welcome the season ahead with openness,

With courage,

With trust.

Like the earth itself,

You're ready to rest,

To restore,

And to rise renewed when the time comes.

And now,

As if sensing your readiness,

The quiet rhythm of winter draws you back.

The same soft stillness that carried you deep now gently guides you home.

Feel your breath again,

Calm,

Steady,

Whole.

Feel your body resting here,

Deeply relaxed,

Fully supported.

There's no rush,

Just as the earth moves slowly into winter,

You too return slowly,

Gently,

With ease.

Bring awareness once more to your body,

The weight of your limbs,

The support beneath you,

The warmth surrounding you,

And the spaciousness within you.

Now repeat to yourself using your inner voice the following.

I open myself to the season of rest and reflection.

I am safe to be still.

I carry this peace within me.

Let these words ripple softly through you now,

Like winter light spreading across a quiet landscape.

Know that this deep rest remains with you,

In your breath,

In your body,

In your awareness.

The practice of yoga nidra is now complete.

Rest here a little longer if you wish,

Or return gently,

Carrying this stillness with you in whatever comes next.

Namaste.