Welcome.
Find a comfortable space.
However your body wants to be held right now,
Let it find that shape.
There is no perfect posture,
Just the one that feels like a small exhale.
The one where something in you softens,
Even slightly.
Take a breath in through your nose,
And release it slowly through your mouth.
Feel the air leave you.
Feel the letting go that lives in every exhale.
Another breath,
Slower this time.
Like you have all the time in the world,
Because right now,
You do.
Gently,
Let your eyes soften closed,
Or find a gentle downward gaze.
Whatever feels safe in this moment.
You don't need to do anything here.
You don't need to be anything.
Just arrive.
Land in this moment like a leaf finding the forest floor.
Now gently bring your attention to your body.
This quiet strength that holds you upright without you even noticing.
Take a breath,
And just appreciate it.
And without forcing anything,
Notice.
Where is it tired?
Where has it been gripping?
Where has it forgotten it's allowed to soften?
Allow your shoulders to melt.
Feel them drop just slightly away from your ears,
Like snow sliding off a branch.
Soften around your lower back.
Let your belly be soft.
Let your chest be open.
Now in your mind's eye,
Find yourself standing at the edge of a forest.
The air here is cool.
It smells of damp earth and green things growing.
Moths and rain,
And something ancient you can't quite name.
Soft,
Light filters through the canopy above.
Shifting patterns of gold and shadow that move like breath across the forest floor.
You step forward.
Feel the ground beneath your feet.
Soft,
Yielding.
Layers of fallen leaves.
The gentle give of earth that has been here longer than memory.
Leaves are whispering in a language older than words.
The creak of branches overhead.
A distant bird calling.
And then,
Silence.
You walk deeper in.
The light grows softer,
Greener.
The air feels held here,
Like the forest has created a sanctuary just for you.
And then,
You see it.
A tree.
An ancient one.
Its trunk is wider than your arms could ever wrap around.
The bark is deeply grooved,
Weathered by countless seasons,
Storms and sun and snow.
Year after year after year.
This tree has been standing here even before you took your very first breath.
It has witnessed so much and remained steady,
Rooted.
Feel yourself drawn to its quiet strength.
Reach out and place your hands on the bark.
Feel the texture beneath your palm.
Feel the humming beneath your hand.
This tree is breathing too.
Slowly,
Imperceptibly.
It is drinking from the earth.
It is reaching toward the sky.
It is alive and ancient and here with you.
Let your hand rest there.
Feel the stillness of something that doesn't need to rush.
Something that knows that simply being is enough.
Looking up,
The branches stretch overhead like arms opening to the sky.
Looking down,
The roots spread wide,
Gnarled and strung,
Disappearing into the earth.
They hold this tree,
Through wind and storm.
They anchor it to something vast and unseen,
Into the core of the earth.
Now gently,
Take a seat below the tree.
Let your back come to rest against the trunk.
Feel your spine meet the solidity of the tree.
Feel the bark press gently against your shoulders,
Your back,
The back of your head.
And here is your invitation.
Lean,
Not half way,
Not holding back.
Let your full weight rest against this tree.
Feel what happens in your heart.
When you stop holding yourself up.
When you let something else be strong for you.
Let your shoulders drop even more.
Let your spine release into the support behind you.
Let your whole body remember what it feels like to not do this alone.
Maybe you feel something softening around your heart.
Something unclenching.
A space opening where the holding used to be.
Here,
You can allow yourself a moment to soften,
To rest,
To let the tree hold you.
Feel your feet connected to the forest floor.
Feel the roots of this ancient tree spreading out beneath you,
Around you.
You are held and supported.
Here,
You don't have to be strong.
You don't have to hold anything up.
You can allow yourself to be strong.
Allow yourself a moment to soften,
To rest,
To let the tree hold you.
And now,
If there's anything you've been carrying,
Any burden,
Any worry,
Any weight that has grown too heavy,
Let it slide down.
Not with force,
Just release.
Like setting down a bag you forgot you were holding.
Let it come to rest at the roots of this tree,
Where the trunk meets the earth.
That sacred place where what is seen meets what is hidden.
The roots receive it.
The earth holds it with you.
You don't have to carry it alone anymore.
Feel the relief wash through you.
Feel the lightness in your shoulders.
The softness in your jaw.
Feel the space in your chest where tension used to live.
Feel the lightness in your heart.
Something in you is remembering.
Remembering that you were never meant to do this all by yourself.
That leaning isn't weakness,
It's wisdom.
That even the strongest trees grow in forests surrounded by others.
Stay here for a moment.
Back against the tree,
Earth beneath you.
The quiet sounds of the forest all around.
Breathe in the cool,
Clean air.
Let it fill your lungs.
Let it remind you that you are alive and held and allowed to rest.
The tree asks nothing of you.
It simply holds you the way it holds everything.
Without condition.
Without judgment.
And in this holding,
Something in you softens.
Something that may have been braced for long finally exhales.
You are allowed to be here.
Just like this.
Not earning your rest.
Not proving you deserve it.
Because you are human.
Because it is your birthright.
The light filters through the leaves above.
The branches creak softly in a breath of wind.
Somewhere,
A bird sings.
You are part of this.
Part of the forest.
Part of the earth.
Part of something ancient and patient and endlessly renewing.
Gently now,
Begin to bring awareness back to your breath.
Feel the rise and fall of your chest.
The rhythm that has been with you all along.
Steady and strong.
Feel the surface beneath you again.
The floor,
The chair,
Whatever is holding you in this moment.
Feel how it supports you,
Just as the tree did.
Know that this feeling,
This steadiness,
This permission to lean,
It doesn't leave you when you open your eyes.
The tree is still with you.
The roots still spread beneath your feet wherever you walk.
The support is always there,
Waiting for you to remember.
When you're ready,
Begin to deepen your breath,
Just slightly,
Inviting yourself back.
Find a soft movement in your fingers,
In your toes,
Small and gentle awakenings.
Take all the time you need,
There's no rush.
And when you feel ready,
In your own time,
Gently begin to open your eyes,
Slowly,
Softly,
Letting the world back in.
Take a moment to notice how you feel,
To notice what's different now.
What's softer.
May you carry this feeling with you into your day.
The knowing that you don't have to hold yourself up alone.
That you can lean.
That the earth will hold you.
And whenever you forget,
Return to your breath.
Return to your body.
The steadiness is always here.
