This is the first in a three-part series called Coming Home to Yourself,
Body,
Mind and Wholeness.
These meditations are designed to help you soften your relationship with yourself,
Beginning with the body,
Then the mind,
And then finally embracing your whole self.
This is your time.
A moment to step back from the rush of the day,
From the noise of the mind,
From all the ways you've been stretched thin and simply arrive here.
If you'd like,
Let your body settle into stillness.
You don't have to sit in any particular way.
You don't need to hold perfect posture or force a calm breath.
However you arrive is enough.
Now gently notice that you are here in your body,
This body that has been with you through everything.
This body that perhaps has carried judgment,
Criticism or shame but is still yours,
Still here,
Still alive.
Take a moment to feel the weight of your body wherever it rests.
The support of the chair,
The floor,
The bed beneath you.
Notice the simple fact that you are held.
So often we treat the body as something to battle with,
To fix,
To improve,
To shrink,
To push harder.
We forget that the body is not a project.
It is a home.
Think of all that is done for you.
It is grown with you since the moment you were born.
It has carried you through storms and through quiet mornings.
It has held your laughter,
Your grief,
Your exhaustion,
Your joy.
It has been scarred and it has healed,
Weakened and strengthened and it has never abandoned you.
So just pause with that truth.
Your body has never abandoned you.
Whatever you've thought or said about your body,
Harsh words,
Hidden comparisons,
Impossible expectations,
Your body has remained here,
Faithfully keeping you alive.
If it feels comfortable,
Fold one of your hands gently around the other.
Hold them softly in your lap,
As though you are holding the hands of a dear friend.
Your body has been that dear friend all along.
What would it mean to treat it that way?
To see it not as something to control but as something to care for?
To remember that you don't have to love it perfectly or all at once.
You can just begin with kindness.
Ask yourself softly,
Where have I been harsh with my body?
What parts of me need kindness right now?
Don't force the answers.
Just allow them to rise as whispers,
As images,
As feelings.
The body has its own way of speaking,
Sometimes through aches.
Sometimes through tension.
Sometimes through fatigue or restlessness or illness.
Instead of pushing those signals away,
Can you imagine listening to them now?
What is your body trying to tell you?
What would it say if it had a voice?
Maybe it would whisper,
Slow down.
Maybe it would ask,
Please notice me.
Please stop fighting me.
Maybe it would simply sigh in relief at being acknowledged.
Whatever comes,
Let it be valid.
Your body is not against you,
It is always,
Always speaking on your behalf.
But maybe sometimes you are not listening to it.
Now think for a moment,
Of all the times the world has told you that your body is not enough.
The advertisements,
The comparisons,
The quiet,
Painful voice inside that says if only I look different,
Then I'd be worthy.
But what if worthiness has never lived in appearance at all?
What if your body's value lies in its aliveness?
In its strength to carry you this far?
In its ability to hold your soul,
Your laughter,
Your tears,
Your breath?
What would it mean to treat your body like a home?
And if you like,
Close your eyes more deeply now,
And gently scan through your body.
Not to critique it,
But to acknowledge it.
Notice your feet,
They have carried you every place you've ever been.
Notice your hands,
They have written,
Held,
Created,
Comforted,
Wiped yours and others' tears away.
Notice your lungs,
They have breathed through fear,
Through singing,
Through laughter,
Through cries.
Notice your heart,
It has kept beating even when you felt it might break.
And even if your body feels weary,
Even if it is being a place of pain,
Even if it feels difficult to love,
It is still here,
And it is the only one you've got.
And that is extraordinary.
Take a slow breath in,
And gently let it out.
Thank your body for carrying you this far.
Notice how your body feels in this exact moment.
Not how it looks,
Not how it measures up.
Just notice simply how it feels.
Is there warmth in your chest?
Is there tightness in your shoulders?
Is there heaviness or lightness or stillness?
Meet whatever is there without judgment.
Your body does not need fixing right now.
It needs witnessing.
And you can say to yourself,
I am allowed to be here,
In this body,
Exactly as it is.
Picture for a moment that your body is not something outside of you,
But a home you live within.
See its walls,
Its rooms,
Its foundation.
Some parts may be messy.
Some may need repair.
Some may be filled with light or darkness.
All of it belongs.
All of it is welcome right now.
Can you imagine walking through this home with tenderness?
Opening windows.
Letting air in.
Placing flowers on the table.
Not because it needs to be perfect,
But because it deserves to be cared for.
As you rest your hands folded gently together,
Feel their warmth.
Feel their life.
Ask yourself one final reflection.
What part of my body do I want to welcome home today?
Maybe it's your belly,
Tired of being judged.
Maybe it's your thighs,
Weary of comparison.
Maybe it's your face,
That has smiled and wept and aged with you.
Or maybe it's another part.
But choose one and hold it in your heart.
Now hold your arms and rub them up and down with care.
As though you're embracing yourself and say to your body,
You belong.
You're mine.
You are already enough.
Notice your body resting here.
Notice how even in stillness,
It is alive.
It is breathing.
It is carrying you.
And as you return to the day,
Carry this truth with you.
Your body is not a project.
It is not an enemy.
It is your home.
And you are safe to come home to it.
