Remembrance of abundance.
Find a position that feels comfortable for you.
You might be sitting,
Lying down,
Or simply allowing your body to be supported exactly where you are.
And before we do anything.
.
.
Notice that you are here.
You arrive.
There is nowhere else you need to get to for these next few minutes.
If it feels comfortable,
Allow your eyes to gently close.
Or simply soften your gaze.
Take a long,
Slow breath in.
And let it go.
Another breath in.
And a long unhurried breath out.
And again.
Nothing dramatic,
Nothing to achieve.
Just the simple experience of breathing.
Breathing in.
And breathing out.
Notice the places where your body is being supported.
The surface beneath you.
The weight of your body being held by something other than you.
You don't have to hold all of yourself up right now.
You can let yourself be held.
And begin to notice your breath.
Not controlling it.
Not improving it.
Simply noticing that another breath arrives.
And then another.
And another.
You don't have to chase the next breath.
You don't have to earn it.
You don't have to be good enough for it.
It just comes.
And goes.
And comes again.
Just take a moment to notice your breath.
Perhaps there is something quietly beautiful in that.
For a nervous system that has learned to anticipate loss,
Scarcity.
To reach,
To hold tightly.
To watch for signs that something or someone precious might disappear.
There can be something profoundly unfamiliar about simply noticing.
There is something here.
Right now.
Scarcity tells us to look for what is missing.
Who isn't here?
What hasn't happened?
What we haven't received.
Whether we have enough love,
Enough reassurance,
Enough attention,
Enough certainty.
Scarcity says,
Find it.
Secure it.
Hold on to it.
Don't let it leave.
And you don't have to fight that part of yourself.
You don't have to tell it that it's wrong.
Perhaps it learned,
Somewhere along the way,
That holding tightly was necessary.
So instead.
.
.
We're simply going to offer your body another experience.
The experience of enough.
Notice the air against your skin.
Notice the temperature.
Notice any sounds around you.
Perhaps distant sounds,
Far,
Far away.
Perhaps the quietest sounds.
Closest to you.
Take your time.
Notice your breath again.
Notice the beating of your heart,
If you can feel it.
Life happening.
Without you having to make it happen.
Just notice.
And begin to notice what is already here.
The air is here.
The ground.
Is here.
Your body.
Is here.
Your breath.
Is here.
This moment.
Is here.
And you.
You are here.
And perhaps just for this moment.
Nothing needs to be added.
Feel what happens in your body when I say.
There is enough for this moment.
That is enough.
For this moment.
Not forever.
We don't need to make promises about forever,
Just this moment.
There is enough for this moment.
Perhaps your body softens,
Perhaps it doesn't.
Both are welcome.
We are not forcing abundance,
We are remembering it.
Now bring your awareness towards the center of your chest.
You might place a hand there if that feels good.
And feel the warmth of your own hand.
Your own presence.
And imagine that somewhere inside you there is a small source of warmth.
Perhaps you see it as light?
Perhaps that source of warmth is a colour.
Perhaps you don't see anything at all.
And you simply sense that source of warmth.
Something steady.
Something that belongs entirely to you.
This is not something another person gave you.
And therefore it is not something another person can take away.
It is your capacity to love.
Your capacity to care.
Your capacity to connect.
Your capacity to comfort.
Your capacity to tune.
And your capacity to begin again.
Your life.
Your presence.
Yourself.
And if there is a younger part of you who knows the terror of not enough.
Perhaps you can sense them now.
The part who fears being forgotten.
The part who fears being left.
The part who believes that if someone turns away,
Love has disappeared entirely.
The part who learned,
I need you to choose me.
So that I can feel okay.
You don't need to push this part away.
You don't need to analyse them.
Just let them know that you are here.
Perhaps silently,
You might say.
I see you.
I know why you're frightened.
You don't have to disappear.
And you don't have to run this moment.
Imagine sitting beside this younger you.
Not above them.
Not fixing them.
Simply beside them.
Feel their little weight.
Next to you.
And the energy of their presence.
And together.
The two of you.
Notice what is here.
The breath.
The ground.
The warmth.
The body.
The present moment.
And your adult presence.
And you might tell them.
We have this breath.
We have this moment.
We have me.
And perhaps allow these words to settle somewhere deeper than thought.
I do not have to chase what is mine.
I do not have to abandon myself to keep another person close.
Someone else's distance does not make me disappear.
Someone else's attention does not create my worth.
I can want connection without making connection my oxygen.
Let that last one land.
I can want connection without making connection my oxygen.
Because connection is beautiful.
Love is beautiful.
Need is human.
Longing.
Is human.
This isn't about becoming someone who needs nobody.
It is about remembering that you are somebody too.
Someone whose company you can learn to trust.
Someone whose hand you can reach for.
Someone who can stay.
Now imagine abundance extending beyond the body.
Not abundance as possessions.
Not endless happiness.
Not getting everything you want.
Abundance as the recognition that life is larger than the thing your fear has focused upon.
There are people you haven't met yet.
Conversations you haven't had.
Places you haven't stood.
Laughter you haven't laughed.
Sunsets you haven't seen.
Music you haven't heard.
Parts of yourself.
You haven't discovered.
There is life beyond this moment of wanting.
There is life beyond this person.
There is life beyond this fear.
There is more.
Feel the breath entering again.
No chasing.
It arrives.
And it leaves.
And another one comes along.
Let your body practice this rhythm.
Receiving.
And releasing.
You Receiving.
And releasing.
Nothing held forever.
And still.
More.
Comes.
Perhaps this is abundance.
Not gripping everything tightly enough that we can never lose it.
But slowly learning that we can release.
And remain.
Take a full intentional breath now in through the nose and out through the mouth and notice your whole body.
Notice the space around your body.
The ground beneath you.
And perhaps quietly repeat.
In this moment.
That is enough.
In this moment.
I am here.
I can stay with myself.
I can let love come towards me without chasing it.
I can let others be who they are without abandoning who I am.
There is more life available to me than fear would have me believe.
And one final time.
Take a slow breath in.
Proceed.
And breathe out.
Release.
Begin to move your fingers and your toes.
Work the movement up through the joints of your wrists,
Your ankles,
Your knees,
Your shoulders,
Your elbows.
Maybe roll your shoulders,
Gently move your head.
Twist your spine.
If that's available.
And when you're ready,
Only when you're ready.
Allow your eyes to gently,
Gently open.
Take your time.
And take in the room around you.
Take in the colours.
All the shapes.
The light.
And notice.
The world is still here.
You.
Are still.
There is more here than scarcity told you there was.
And you can return to this remembrance.
One breath.
One moment.
One gentle return to yourself.
At a time.
