Close your eyes,
Beloved one.
Let yourself arrive.
Not the version of you that has to hold it all together.
Not the version of you that runs and runs.
But the version of you that is here,
Now.
Breathing,
Feeling,
And trembling,
Perhaps.
You are in this,
But you're here.
You don't need to be any different than you are in this current moment.
Notice the body.
The quickness of your breath.
The tightness across your chest.
The jitters in your hands.
Notice the thoughts circling,
Searching for escape.
Piling one on top of another.
Notice how the body responds.
Your heart racing,
Skin prickling,
And the feeling of not being safe inside yourself.
This is the way of the storm.
This is anxiety.
A storm of sensation that convinces you that you must do something.
That something is amiss.
That something is wrong.
That you are in danger.
But here,
Right now,
In this moment,
I want you to listen that there is no danger.
That you are safe here.
This racing inside of you,
This trembling,
It's only energy.
Only a wave passing through.
Let us learn how to sit with this wave.
Let us learn how to isolate this wave.
For it is not within us.
It is just for us to watch it crest and fall.
To let it roll through without drowning you.
Day one.
You can't stop the wave.
But you can learn to surf.
Take a deep,
Slow breath in.
Inhale through your nose.
Feel the lungs stretch wide.
Hold.
Keep holding.
Now exhale longer than the inhale.
We'll do this to the count.
Take a deep breath in.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Hold.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Exhale.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
And eight.
Inhale.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Hold.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Exhale.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
And eight.
Continue breathing.
Let your body soften.
Let the cool air touch the throat.
Fill in your belly.
Continue the sway once more.
Inhale.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Hold.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Exhale.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
And eight.
Each breath is a reminder that you are here.
In this present moment,
You're anchored.
You're alive.
Now imagine this anxiety is a sky filled with restless birds.
They flap and circle,
Fast and noisy and chaotic.
You stand beneath them,
Your feet firmly on the solid ground.
You cannot catch them.
You cannot fight them.
But you can stand.
You can breathe.
And as you breathe,
My dear one,
The birds begin to scatter.
To soften,
To drift into the distance.
Until the sky opens.
Until there is space again above you.
These birds initially convinced you that you are powerless.
But you're here now,
Firmly on the solid earth.
You're here.
You're watching.
Here you are,
Steady as the ground beneath your feet.
This truth cannot be taken away from you.
You are the one who breathes,
Who witnesses and yet remains.
Now place a hand over your heart.
Feel it beating.
Fast perhaps,
But always steady.
This heart has carried you through every storm.
Whisper to yourself.
Repeat after me.
I am safe.
I am here.
This moment is enough.
I am enough.
Say it again.
I am safe.
I am here.
This moment is enough.
I am enough.
Let me allow the words to sink deeper than thought.
Deeper than fear.
Until they become a rhythm in your blood.
A quiet song beneath the noise.
Stay with me.
Feel your body lighten.
Your breath deepen.
Your mind soften.
Notice how the storm begins to pass when you stop running from it.
Notice how your body learns slowly that being calm is possible.
That you're not the fear that you feel.
That you're not the racing thoughts that you think.
You're the vast nest beneath it all.
You're the open sky,
Not the passing clouds.
And if anxiety returns tomorrow or the next day,
Remember,
You have touched this place of stillness.
It is yours to return to.
No matter the storm,
The sky,
The clear sky is still waiting.
