Find a comfortable seat,
Allowing yourself to be fully supported.
Arrange yourself so you can sit quietly for the next few moments of time and allow the body to be gently held,
Gently nested into your seat.
Begin to notice the breath,
Just noticing.
Feel the soft expansion and rise on the inhale.
And then the falling,
The letting go on the exhale.
Exhaling slowly,
Deeply,
Exhaling slowly,
Fully.
Rise and fall.
Rise and fall.
Expand on the inhale and let go on the exhale.
Expansion,
Letting go.
Expansion,
Letting go.
Notice as you breathe so gently,
Slowly,
And deeply,
The body begins to relax as if the crown of the head is softening and opening and letting go.
Feel the muscles of the brow softening,
Letting go.
The muscles of the jaw releasing,
Relaxing,
Letting go.
Rise on the inhale and fall on the exhale.
Rise and fall.
Feel the arms heavy,
Soft,
Relaxed.
Feel the hands heavy,
Letting go.
Rise and fall.
Feel the belly soft,
Expanding on the inhale,
Surrendering on the exhale.
Expand and let go.
Feel the back of the thighs,
Heavy,
Balanced,
Weighted in your seat.
The calves,
The feet,
The toes,
Letting go.
If you haven't already done so,
Then gently flutter the eyes closed and relax completely as we take this time together to return,
To come home,
To be in the sanctuary of our being.
Rise and fall.
Come home.
The air outside is cold,
But your breath is warm within.
Your heart is talking slowly,
Keeping perfect rhythm with the steady pulse of the entire universe,
A slow dance with all that is.
Sit a while and rest.
Release the gravity from the temple of your body and settle into the soft pad of the earth.
Begin to peel off the layers of the day,
The things and doings of life without wings.
Set them aside,
One by one.
Make a soft pile beside your chair.
Make a pile of all the chatter,
The circular thoughts,
The lists,
And the chores to do.
Peel off more layers,
Adding them to the pile.
The I should haves,
The what ifs,
All the that wasn't good enoughs,
And every last little,
There is not enough time.
Place your hand softly upon the layers and say in the voice of your mind,
Not now.
I am returning to myself.
I am coming home to the nature of my being.
At first it feels dark,
Too deep,
Too unfamiliar,
But don't turn away.
You have been on this journey since the beginning of time.
You have touched the innermost self and lived eternally in its folds.
You've taken this road so many times,
You can feel its curves in your body,
And every bump is like reading in Braille,
That this is the way.
The compass of your heart will never fail you.
You are returning to self,
Coming home to the nature of your being.
You do not have to move,
Or fuss,
Or direct,
Or plan.
You are already here.
Stand at that threshold and turn the handle born smooth through time and passage.
Come home.
Come in.
Be still.
Rest here.
Decline in this interval of deep abiding peace.
Just rest.
Press against any barrier resistant to completely letting go.
Allow it to be worn smooth by your touch,
Like water does to stone,
Until at last it gives in,
Becoming one with the flow,
Moving through every apparent tributary and filling deep and quiet lakes.
Rest here in the still body of the infinite,
One with its peaceful waters,
Where there are no shores,
No beginnings,
And no ends.
This is home,
The nature of your being.
Come home often.
Rest here deep and long.
For there is no better place for your heart to be than home.
And so it is.
