Hey there,
Thank you for being here.
Let's take a moment to land into your body,
This space,
This moment.
With three slow,
Steady breaths together.
Firstly,
Feel yourself arriving in your body.
Inhale as you let the breath fill your chest,
Your belly,
Your limbs.
Hold it as you root deeply.
Exhale and let any tension melt away.
Let your shoulders soften,
Your jaw unclench.
Now again,
Inhale and arrive in this space.
Hold,
Notice the ground beneath you,
The air all around you.
Exhale and feel your edges dissolve gently into the room.
And one more,
The slowest yet.
Inhale and arrive in this moment,
Just here.
Nowhere else to be.
Hold.
Exhale and release the rest.
The past.
The next thing.
The noise.
You don't need them,
Because you've arrived.
Not at a destination,
But at a pause.
A breath.
A space to feel,
To reflect,
To remember.
Today,
We're touching something tender.
Grief.
Memory.
The ache of what once was.
And the quiet invitation of what can still be.
You see,
Grief and love,
They're not opposites.
They're twins,
Born of the same devotion.
To mourn is to have loved deeply.
To hurt is to have lived fully.
And to remember is to keep something or someone alive within you.
So,
If you've lost something or someone,
And it still aches,
Let that ache breathe.
Let it be tender.
Let it be honored.
I invite you to place a hand on your heart.
Sense the quiet rhythm beneath your palm.
You see,
It's still going.
Which means you're still going.
And as long as you are,
You have the gift of choice.
To speak when silence is easier.
To dance when stillness feels safer.
To laugh even when your heart's been shattered.
If you're carrying grief,
Don't set it down.
Carry it softly.
Wrap it in kindness.
Allow it to remind you,
Not just of what you lost.
But of what you had.
And what you're still capable of having.
And giving.
And receiving.
Your story isn't over.
And the chapters ahead,
They are still unwritten.
Maybe they'll be messy.
Maybe miraculous.
Maybe sacred.
But one thing's for sure.
They will be yours.
You don't need to know how the whole journey will unfold.
You only need the courage to take the next step your heart has always been asking for.
So take another breath with me.
Slow,
Deep,
Present.
And as you exhale,
Imagine letting go.
Not of the memories,
But of the weight that keeps you from moving forward.
You can laugh.
You can grieve.
You can cry.
You can continue.
And you will.
This moment is a love letter.
To who you've been.
To who you've lost.
To who you are becoming.
It's not about showing up perfectly.
It's about being real.
Honest.
Raw.
And truthful.
I'd like to leave you with the lyrics of a song called You by Keaton Henson.
Let it land wherever you need it.
Whether that is in your breath.
Your body.
If you must wait.
Wait for them here.
As I shake.
If you must weep.
Do it right here.
In my bed.
As I sleep.
And if you must mourn.
My love.
Mourn with the moon and the stars.
Up above.
If you must mourn.
Don't do it alone.
If you must leave.
Leave as though fire burns under your feet.
If you must speak.
Speak every word.
As though it were unique.
And if you must die.
Sweetheart.
Die knowing that your life.
Was my life's best part.
If you must die.
Remember your life.
Because.
You are all.
If you must fight.
Fight with yourself and your thoughts.
In the night.
If you must work.
Work to leave some part of you.
On this earth.
And if you must live.
Darling one.
Just live.
Allow those words.
To settle in you.
Not as pressure.
But as invitation.
To love again.
To begin again.
To find beauty.
Even in brokenness.
We'll take three final breaths.
To close.
Repeat after me.
And so it is.
Thank you so much for joining me.
As always.
Let me know what you gained out of this inward journey.
I always delight.
In hearing from you.
Until next time.
Be tender.
Be strong.
Be you.
With love and light.
