Welcome to this meditation inspired by Monet's paintings of the water lilies.
Wherever you've come from today,
Wherever this morning held or this afternoon or this evening,
You don't have to bring any of it with you right now.
Simply arrive just as you are.
I invite you to find a position that feels genuinely comfortable for your body.
You might be seated or lying down,
Leaning against a wall,
Whatever allows you to feel both supported and at ease.
Letting go,
Settling in.
Eyes may be closed or soften their gaze.
And if at any point during our time together something doesn't feel right for you,
You're always welcome to adjust.
Open your eyes,
Simply rest.
There's nothing to perform here.
This space belongs to you.
You are in control.
Let's begin by noticing breath.
You're not changing your breath,
Just noticing.
Noticing the way the air moves in and finds its way back out.
Observing.
I invite you to take one slow,
Intentional breath in through your nose.
In through your nose,
Filling your body,
Filling your lungs.
And then let it go through your mouth,
Softly,
Releasing anything that doesn't serve you.
And again,
Breathing in a little bit more fully if that feels comfortable.
Feeling it fill your body.
And then releasing,
Letting the exhale be a little longer than the inhale,
Like water flowing out to sea.
And let your breathing return to its natural rhythm.
No effort.
Gentle rise and fall of your chest and belly.
Quiet intelligence of your body.
Breathing.
After each exhale,
Allowing your weight to settle.
Settle a little more into whatever is holding you,
The supports beneath you.
You are held right now,
Fully.
Now,
Very gently,
Let's move your awareness through your body.
We're not looking for anything to fix,
Only to notice with curiosity and kindness.
Bringing your attention to the top of your head.
Your forehead.
Your eyes,
Allowing them to soften.
And then,
Releasing,
Softening.
Allowing your awareness to drift down into your shoulders.
Releasing any tension if there's any.
Dropping them away from your ears.
Moving to your arms.
Your hands.
Your fingertips.
And if there's any tension,
You don't need to fight it.
Allow your breath to pass through it,
Like light through water.
Bringing your attention to your chest.
Your heart space.
Your belly rising and falling.
Softening the soles of your feet.
Your whole body present.
Your whole self here.
Now,
We want to invite you into a place of extraordinary beauty.
And if the visualization doesn't come easily to you,
It's okay.
Just allow the words to wash over you a little bit.
Like a gentle current.
I invite you to imagine you are standing at the edge of a still,
Shimmering pond.
It's early morning.
The light is soft and diffused.
The particular quality of light that exists before the day has decided what it wants to be.
The water before you is covered in lily pads.
Vast,
Flat circles of the deepest green.
Resting on the surface,
As if they have always known exactly where they belong.
And among them,
The lilies themselves.
Rose and cream.
Pale gold.
Some open wide to the sky,
Unhurried.
Some still gently close,
Holding their own mystery.
Each one perfect.
Each one exactly as it is.
The reflections of clouds and willows tremble in the water below the pads.
And in between the pads,
This gentleness,
The reflections.
Blues and greens,
Soft violets,
Shifting,
Always shifting.
And yet the pond itself is utterly still beneath.
And then,
Perhaps you notice a dragonfly,
Tracing the surface.
Maybe a petal falls.
And there's only the sound of your own breath.
Meeting the silence of this place.
As you inhale,
Imagine you are breathing in the colors of the pond.
The soft greens,
Quiet blues,
Warm gold.
As you exhale,
Let anything you've been carrying release into the water,
Where it dissolves into beauty.
You are not separate from this place.
You belong here,
Just as fully as the lily belongs to the water.
Just as the light belongs to the surface.
Monet spent years and years painting this pond.
Returning to it again and again in every light,
In every season.
Not because it was perfect.
But because he was painting it.
Paying such deep loving attention.
He saw that beauty is not somewhere far away.
It lives in the ordinary.
In water,
In light,
And the patient unfolding of something alive.
What if you could offer that same quality of attention to yourself?
Still resting at this pond,
I invite you to bring one hand,
If it feels comfortable,
Gently to your heart.
And offer yourself these words.
You can say them silently,
As an inner whisper,
Or repeating softly.
May I be at ease.
May I be held just as I am.
May I know,
Even for a moment,
That I am enough.
May I be at ease.
May I be held just as I am.
May I know,
Even for a moment,
That I am enough.
And now,
Very slowly,
Begin to let the image of the pond soften and fade.
May I be at ease.
May I be held just as I am.
May I know,
Even for a moment,
That I am enough.
And now,
Very slowly,
Begin to let the image of the pond soften and fade.
Knowing it's always here.
Knowing the stillness lives inside you.
Not just in a painting.
Not just in a garden.
Right here in you.
And when ready,
I invite you to add gentle movement back into your body.
Wiggling your toes.
Fingers.
Perhaps gently stretching.
Beginning to notice the room around you.
The sounds.
The temperature.
The weight of your body.
And I invite you to take one gentle full breath.
And when you're ready,
If your eyes are closed,
Softly and gently obeying them.
Thank you for being here.
For taking this time for yourself.
And for all the people whose lives you touch when you return.
A little more whole.
A little more at peace.
