Is there a part of you?
That already knows things before you are told them.
A flicker of knowing that arrives before the thought does.
Tonight,
We are going to go looking for that part of you,
Gently.
Letting it soften and open.
In its own time.
I am Rasa.
And I welcome you to this journey.
And activating curious kind of meditation.
That will guide you towards sleep.
But will keep going long after that.
What begins tonight.
Is designed to keep unfolding in your dreams.
And in the days that follow.
So find your place to rest.
Somewhere you can let go completely when the time comes.
Close your beautiful eyes now,
If they aren't already closed.
Take a breath in,
Slow and full.
And let it go a little slower still.
Again,
Breathing in.
And releasing.
Allowing each exhale to carry you a little further from the day behind you.
And a little closer to this moment.
Right here,
Right now.
Bring your attention to the space between your eyebrows.
That soft point just above the branch of your nose.
This is where we will begin.
Imagine a single point of light there.
Small at first.
The color of the sky in the last minutes before night.
Deep indigo.
Touched with violence.
It remembers how to glow slowly.
The way your eyes adjust to a dark room.
Without any effort on your part.
Just let it happen.
As this point of light warms.
Feel it spreading outward.
First softening your forehead.
Your temples.
The small muscles around your eyes that have been working all day and can finally rest.
Let this warmth flow down through your jaw.
You're next.
Releasing words you didn't say.
And thoughts you don't need to finish tonight.
Down through your shoulders.
Heavy and settling.
Down through your arms.
Your hands.
Your fingers going quiet.
And down through your chest.
Your breath slowing on its own.
Your belly rising and falling.
Like something being gently rubbed.
Let the same warmth.
Continue down through your back.
Releasing each blaze it touches.
Down through your hips.
Your legs.
All the way to the soles of your feet.
Your whole body now resting.
Under this indigo glow.
And there is nowhere else you need to be.
And nothing else you need to do.
And now imagine this glow.
Doing one more thing,
Quietly,
Without any effort.
Feel it begin to soften,
The outline of your body.
The way a lamp softens the edges of a room at night.
Feel yourself becoming a little less sullen.
A little less certain.
Of where you end.
And the air around you begins.
This is a good sign.
It means you are closer than you think.
Now here.
Is where it becomes effortless.
You don't need to relax any further.
You only need to stop holding on.
Imagine there is a veil.
Thin as breath.
Hanging just in front of everything you normally look at.
Your room.
Your thoughts.
The inside of your own eyelids.
And with every exhale.
That veil grows a little thinner.
Simply because you have stopped holding it up.
10.
And it thins.
Nine.
And it thins further.
Seven.
6.
You are not counting down to sleep.
You are counting down to see.
5.
Four.
3 1.
And it is gone.
Here is the strange part,
And I want you to trust it rather than chase it.
Whatever appears now will not show itself if you stare directly at it.
This is the nature of the site you are opening.
So keep your gaze soft,
Unfocused.
Resting rather than searching.
The way you would notice a star only when you look slightly beside it.
And this soft place.
Notice.
Right there.
Just at the edge of your awareness.
A shape.
Perhaps a color that doesn't quite have a name.
Perhaps a sound that seems to arrive as color.
Or a color that seems to hum.
But don't turn it toward it directly.
Let it stay at the edge.
And let it get braver there.
Find yourself somewhere.
That isn't quite a place.
The way dreams aren't quiet places.
And yet it is solid enough to walk in.
The ground beneath you is dark and smooth.
Like still water that holds you awake.
Above you.
Instead of stars.
Are small points of that same indigo light.
Hundreds of them.
H1 a question someone once asked and never finished.
As you move forward.
You pass things that reveal themselves only as you stop trying to see them.
A doorway that becomes a doorway.
Once you have walked halfway through it.
A garden that finds its color.
Once you stop checking if it is there.
This is simply how this realm behaves.
And you find to your surprise.
That it isn't frightening at all.
It is a relief.
Here knowing arrives on its own.
And you only have to let it.
A little further on.
You pass something that would startle you anywhere else.
But here it only makes sense.
A window.
Standing alone with no wall around it.
And through the glass is a view of right now.
From an angle you have never once looked.
Your own life.
Seen from slightly behind and above.
Like a memory that hasn't happened yet.
Don't need to look closely and you don't really need to understand it fully.
Simply notice.
That some part of you already recognizes it.
The way you would recognize your own handwriting.
Before you could say why.
Ahead of you.
The ground gives way to a single low table.
Dark stone.
And on it rests something you cannot quite make out.
Because it has not yet decided what it wants to be for you.
It may be a mirror.
It may be a shallow pool of water.
It may simply be a page.
Whatever it is,
You understand without being told.
That this is the threshold.
This is the place where the unseen agrees to be seen.
Always at exactly the pace you are ready for.
Let yourself arrive gently,
Yet fully.
You have stood at thresholds like this before.
In a dream you forgot by morning.
In a stranger's face.
That felt like memory.
In the second before the phone rang.
And you already knew who it was.
Tonight isn't different because something new is arriving.
It is different because right now.
.
.
You are not going to look away.
With each step.
Notice that you need less light to find your way.
Simply because you have grown more at ease in the dark.
That is the real shift happening tonight.
You are finally comfortable enough to see what was always there.
To feel it.
To sense its settling into place.
So invite it now.
Silently or in a whisper if you would like.
Offer these words to whatever rests before you.
Show me what I cannot see.
Feel the words settle.
Say it again.
And feel something in you,
Lean forward to listen.
Show me.
What I cannot see.
And now,
Let go of trying to see anything at all.
That is the last part of the instruction.
And perhaps the hardest one to follow.
And the only one that actually works.
You already know this pattern from ordinary life.
You don't notice silence until the sound stops.
You don't notice the scent of your own home.
Until you have been away from it.
What you are asking to see works the same way.
That will not be found by looking.
It will only be found.
By stopping the love.
I am going to step back now and let this unfold.
In its own time.
Without my voice guiding it.
Stay soft.
Stay open.
Whatever comes,
Will come.
Show me.
What I cannot see.
And whenever you are ready.
Or whenever it is ready to let you go.
Notice that the ground beneath you has softened again.
And the dark stone table.
And whatever rests on it.
Has folded itself gently.
Back into the mist it came from.
You don't need to remember every detail.
What needed to reach you already has.
Tucked somewhere just beneath your thinking mind.
Where it will keep working quietly.
Without needing your attention at all.
Feel the veil settling back into place.
Returning you softly to the shape of your own body.
Resting exactly where you left it.
Feel the indigo light at your brow.
Dimming now.
Resting too.
The way a candle settles into its last,
Quiet glow.
Before morning.
Feel the edges of your body.
Becoming solid again.
Familiar again.
Your hands,
Your feet.
The weight of the surface beneath you.
Everything you touch tonight is still yours to keep.
What was shown to you already knows the way in.
And needs nothing more from you now.
You can let go of these words now.
You can let go of listening altogether.
There is nothing left to do.
And nowhere left to go tonight.
Accept deeper.
And deeper into rest.
Whatever you are shown will go on unfolding while you sleep.
Arriving fully formed in a dream.
Or arriving quietly tomorrow as he thought.
That feels oddly certain.
Or arriving days from now as a moment of knowing,
You can't quite explain.
But you don't need to look for it.
It knows how to find you.
Sleep now.
Let your breath grow long and slow and sleepy.
Let your body sink the rest of the way into whatever is holding you.
You have asked the question the only way it can truly be answered.
By letting go of needing the answer right away.
Show me what I cannot see,
You said.
And it will.
In its own time.
In its own way,
It will.
Sleep well.
I am Rasa.
This has been a psychic sleep meditation.
You are seen.
Even in the dark.
You are the life.
Chosen to see it.
To be.
