Welcome.
Before we begin,
Please know that this is your time.
You are always welcome to keep your eyes open,
Soften your gaze.
Look around the room.
Shift your position.
Or pause the meditation at any time.
You do not have to follow every invitation I offer.
Take only what feels supportive.
Leave behind anything that does not serve you.
There is no right way to be here.
Begin where you are.
I invite you to find a position that feels comfortable enough for this moment.
You might sit in a chair with your feet touching the floor.
Or you might lie down.
You decide.
You might rest your hands in your lap or at your sides or anywhere else that feels comfortable.
Taking a moment,
Settling in.
Noticing the space you're in.
Perhaps noticing the light.
Any sounds.
Noticing and observing as you gently settle in.
We're here.
In this moment.
And you have choices.
When you are ready,
I invite you to bring your attention to the gentle rhythm of your breathing.
No need to change it No need to make it deeper.
Simply noticing that breathing is happening.
In and out.
The gentle rhythm of life.
You may want to notice the places where your body is supported.
Perhaps your feet are touching the floor.
Or your back supported by a chair.
Perhaps your body's resting on a bed or cushion.
On the floor.
Allowing yourself to feel the support beneath you.
A reminder that you do not have to hold yourself up alone right now.
Is feeling that support.
It's a reminder that eyes may be closed or softening the gaze,
Whatever is most comfortable.
I invite you to imagine that beneath you is a wide,
Steady earth.
And the Earth does not ask you to explain yourself.
It does not ask you to be productive.
It simply receives you.
If it feels helpful,
Imagine a soft,
Warm color beneath you.
Perhaps a gentle amber or a quiet gold.
Any color that allows you to feel grounded and safe.
Maybe the color rests around your feet.
Beneath your hands.
Maybe it simply stays below you like a warm and steady blanket of light.
Reminding you that you are supported.
You're allowed to settle.
At times,
The voice inside us can be hard.
It can rush us.
Correct us.
Tell us we should have done more.
Know more and more.
You do not need to push that voice away today.
You do not need to argue it.
For this moment.
Simply notice.
Perhaps you can recognize that there is a part of you that has learned to be critical.
Often that part is trying in its own imperfect way.
To protect you from disappointment.
Rejection or pain.
You do not have to believe every word it says.
And you do not have to make it the only voice you hear.
Today.
We are making room for another voice.
A voice that is patient.
A voice that understands.
A voice that speaks to you as someone worthy of care.
I invite you to imagine someone you care for deeply.
Could be a friend.
A loved one.
Child.
Or simply the feeling of someone who matters to you.
Imagine that this being has had a difficult day.
They feel tired.
They've made a mistake.
They are doubting themselves.
Notice the way you might want to speak to them.
Perhaps you would say.
I know this is hard.
You are doing the best you can.
You do not have to carry this alone.
You deserve a moment of kindness.
Now if it feels okay.
See if you can gently turn even a little of that same warmth towards yourself.
Not because you have earned it.
Not because you've done everything perfectly.
But because you are human.
Because you too need kindness.
I invite you to repeat each line that I say.
Silently or out loud,
Whichever feels right to you.
Today.
I am my own gentle friend.
In thought.
In word.
And feeling.
Allow the words to settle in whatever way they can.
Perhaps they feel true.
Or perhaps they feel new.
Or even difficult to receive.
There's no need to force anything.
Again,
Repeating silently,
Row bow.
Today,
I am my own gentle friend.
And thought.
And feeling.
Still allowing yourself to notice the breath.
The supports beneath you.
Perhaps noticing whether there is even the smallest softening.
As we repeat,
One more time,
Silently route out.
Today.
I am my own gentle friend.
In thought.
In Word.
And feeling.
Allowing yourself to take a moment.
Where you do not need to make yourself feel anything in particular.
Allowing the words to be near you,
Washing over you.
If it feels comfortable.
Imagine a small lantern glowing somewhere within you.
Near your heart,
Perhaps.
Your chest.
Allie.
Or simply in the space around you.
This is not a brave or demanding life.
It's small.
Steady It does not erase difficult feelings.
It does not insist that everything is fine.
It simply offers enough light to see yourself with a little more tenderness.
With each breath.
Imagine the lantern glow.
Not brighter in a way that overwhelms.
Just one word.
Kind enough to meet the tired places.
Kind enough to meet the uncertain places.
Kind enough to meet the parts of you that have been working very hard.
You might silently say.
I am here with myself.
I can be gentle with myself.
I can begin again.
Allowing these freezes to come slowly.
Not forcing them to feel completely true.
Just receive what you can.
And as you rest with the warmth of this inner light.
Allow the following words to arise softly.
May I speak to myself with patience.
May I meet my mistakes with understanding.
May I offer myself the kindness I need.
May I remember that I am worthy of compassion.
Allowing the words to rest.
Noticing anything that feels supportive.
Allowing the phrases to return as gently as a warm breeze.
May I speak to myself with patience.
May I meet my mistakes with understanding.
May I offer myself the kindness I need.
May I remember that I am worthy of compassion.
Feeling the steadiness beneath you.
Breath moving through you.
And as I repeat the words again,
I invite you to allow these words to settle a little deeper.
May I speak to myself with patience.
May I meet my mistakes with understanding.
May I offer myself the kindness I need.
May I remember that I am worthy of compassion.
Allowing these words to be enough.
I invite you to bring your awareness back to the lantern of warmth.
And that feeling of breath.
The gentle flow.
In and out.
More than guiding.
Perhaps placing a hand over your heart.
Somewhere that feels supportive.
Or you may leave your hands exactly where they are.
Is feeling the quiet presence of your own company.
Eating silently or out loud.
Today,
I am my own gentle friend.
In thought.
In a word.
And a feeling.
Saying again silently wrote that.
Today.
I am my own gentle friend.
In thought.
In a word.
Allowing the words to wash over you.
And one more time.
Today.
I am my own gentle friend.
And thought.
And word.
And feeling.
Settling.
Healing them.
You may not speak kindly to yourself every moment.
None of us do.
That each time you notice the harshness.
.
.
You can return.
You can begin again.
You can choose one gentler word.
One gentler thought.
One gentler breath.
You On your next inhale,
I invite you to welcome yourself back into the space.
Noticing any sounds.
Feeling the support beneath your body.
And inviting gentle movement back into your body.
Wiggling your toes and fingers.
Cap's gentle stretches.
And if your eyes are closed,
Slowly and gently fluttering them open.
Taking your time.
And a reminder that as you move into the rest of your day,
The voice inside matters.
And it can become a place of comfort.
A place of understanding.
A place you are willing to return to.
Thank you for spending this time with yourself.
