Take a deep breath in and let go.
Again,
Breathe in slow and steady and exhale everything you've been holding.
You have been carrying a lot.
Doing,
Fixing,
Praying,
Planning,
Manifesting,
Trying to keep the pieces from falling apart.
But right now,
Nothing more is required.
Not another email,
Not another idea,
Just this breath and presence.
Feel the ground holding you.
Feel your body remembering that it can rest.
Let yourself land right here,
Right now in the pause.
Maybe you've done everything you can think of and still life feels like it's frozen mid-step.
You've pressed all the right buttons and yet the universe seems to be saying,
Hold.
Not no,
Just not yet.
It can feel cruel sometimes,
This holy standstill,
But what if this pause is not punishment?
What if it's protection?
Imagine yourself suspended in soft golden light,
Like time has stopped and you're safe inside it.
Everything around you is still,
Not dead,
Just waiting to unfold.
The pause is divine timing's way of catching its breath.
Let your body soften into that truth.
You can say it out loud if it helps.
I am tired.
I have tried.
I do not know what else to do.
There is no shame in this,
That sacred honesty.
Let every exhale carry out the guilt,
The frustration,
The tiny voice that says you should be further ahead by now.
Feel how even your honesty is holy.
There's nothing wrong with you feeling stuck.
You are just being recalibrated.
I want you to inhale the word allow and exhale the word release.
Do that for a few moments.
Allow,
Release.
Letting go isn't giving up.
It's changing the energy behind your action.
Doing from fear says,
I must fix this so I can be safe.
Doing from trust says,
I am safe and from that safety,
I move.
Notice how your breath already knows this rhythm.
You don't force it.
It just flows.
You do your part and then you let go.
That is co-creation in its simplest form.
Now imagine yourself standing in a quiet garden at dawn.
You've planted seeds,
Your work,
Your prayers,
Your dreams.
The soil is dark and rich,
Full of potential.
You can't see the roots yet,
But that doesn't mean they aren't growing.
Kneel down and place your palm on the earth.
Feel the heartbeat of something ancient moving beneath the surface.
Whisper to yourself,
I will stop digging to check.
I will let it grow.
Overhead,
The sky begins to glow soft pinks and golds.
And then in the mist,
A double rainbow arcs across the horizon.
This is the promise,
The reminder,
You are not abandoned.
Even now,
Grace is threading through.
Stay here for a few breaths.
Let the scene imprint on your heart.
Inhale a soft light through the crown of your head.
Let it fill your chest and your stomach and your hands.
Exhale tension,
The grip,
The timeline,
The how.
With every breath,
Feel more of yourself soften,
Not collapsing,
Just releasing.
The universe is still working,
Even when you can't see.
The pause isn't the end,
It's the inhale before your next exhale of motion.
Place your hand over your heart and whisper softly,
I have done all I can for now.
The rest is moving in ways I cannot see.
I will act when I am called and rest when I am not.
You don't need to trust perfectly.
You just need to practice it one breath at a time.
Take one last slow breath and exhale.
And when you're ready,
Open your eyes.
You do not have to have it all figured out.
You just have to keep showing up for the practice.
That is trust.
