Welcome to this moment,
This moment that is yours,
A pause from doing,
A return to be.
Find a comfortable position,
Whether you're seated or lying down,
And allow your body to soften into the support you feel.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose,
And an exhale gently through your mouth.
Again,
Inhale fully,
Opening that chest,
Expanding the abdomen,
And exhaling completely,
Letting everything else go.
One more time,
A deep inhale in,
And an audible exhale out.
And now go ahead and let your hands rest softly in your lap or at your sides.
If it feels comfortable for you,
You can allow your eyes to fully close.
And bring your attention to the very crown of your head.
Imagine a soft autumn sunlight warming this space,
And allow that golden warmth to melt across your forehead,
Smoothing out any lines of tension.
Invite the eyes to soften.
Let your jaw unclench.
Invite your tongue to rest inside your mouth.
And with each breath,
Picture yourself exhaling any leftover busyness of summer,
Of your day,
As if you're letting it drift away on the autumn breeze.
And now move your shoulders and bring all of your awareness to this part of you,
Feeling the shoulders shift and maybe stretch,
Releasing the tension that you're holding,
Allowing this awareness to go down into the neck,
The upper back,
And the shoulders.
These are the places that we often hold so much weight.
And just imagine the cool air of fall brushing across them,
Encouraging the muscles to release.
And with every out-breath,
Let your shoulders sink a little further away from your ears.
And moving your awareness down to your arms,
Your elbows,
Your forearms,
Your wrists,
And your hands,
Sense the energy that you carry here.
Imagine autumn rain falling softly,
Nourishing you and the earth around you.
And just let the water wash away any tension that you're holding in your arms.
Inviting the muscles to relax.
And starting to notice the way that your hands grow lighter,
As if you can finally put down what you've been holding.
And start to bring your focus to your chest,
Where your breath rises and falls.
And imagine the crisp air filling your lungs with clarity,
With peace.
And allow your back to soften into the support beneath you,
As if you're leaning against the trunk of a strong tree.
And with each breath,
Feel more supported,
More at ease.
And now travel down to your belly,
To your pelvic floor,
Into your hips,
Lower back.
These are the roots of your body.
And picture the earth beneath you as rich,
Fertile soil.
With each exhale,
Let go of what you do not need,
Just as the trees released what no longer serves.
And let your hips sink down,
Grounded and heavy.
And then continuing to move your awareness down through the thighs,
Your knees,
Your calves.
Finally arriving at your ankles,
Your feet,
And the tips of your toes.
And imagine here roots starting to extend from your soles of your feet,
Going deep down into the soil,
Anchoring you like the great oaks prepare for stillness of winter.
And with each breath,
Feel its energy rising up through those roots,
That Mother Earth energy steady and nourishing,
Starting to fill your body.
And now I want you to imagine yourself stepping forward into a golden forest.
The late summer sun is lowering.
The air is cool and crisp,
Filled with the scent of leaves just beginning to turn.
Each step crunches softly beneath your feet.
And as you walk,
You notice that the trees are beginning their sacred process of letting go.
Their leaves,
Once green and full of energy,
Now release with grace.
They don't cling.
They trust the cycle.
And if it feels right for you,
Go ahead and bring your hands to your heart.
Feel into the steady rhythm of your own beating heart.
And go ahead and whisper silently on your inhale,
I arrive.
And on your exhale,
I soften.
Like the trees,
You too are preparing to shed what no longer serves you.
And up ahead in the forest,
There's a clearing.
And you notice in this clearing stands a great oak tree.
Its branches are strong.
Its roots are deep.
You can tell that this tree is old and wise.
And hanging from this tree on all of the limbs are countless cloaks.
Each one shimmering with words,
With symbols,
With colors.
And these cloaks represent the roles and responsibilities,
The expectations that you've taken on in your life.
A heavy cloak labeled the strong one.
A shawl stitched with caregiver.
A sparkling dress of perfectionism.
A stiff blazer of leader or achiever.
A pale veil whispering,
I must earn love to be worthy.
A weighty satchel marked,
I have to hold it all together.
And just take a moment to notice which of these garments you've been wearing.
Notice how they each feel against your skin.
Maybe some feel warm and comforting and safe.
While others feel scratchy,
Suffocating,
And heavy and simply not yours to wear.
Allow yourself the time to witness them all without judgment.
And now take a slow breath and narrow your focus in to just one.
Choosing one role,
One expectation,
One obligation that doesn't feel like it's serving you.
The one that feels the heaviest in this moment.
And trust whatever comes up,
There's no need to overthink.
And see it glowing on the cloak in front of you.
With care,
You unfasten that part of the cloak as if you're gently removing it from your body.
And feel how instantly you feel much lighter.
How your shoulders and heart start to feel open,
Free.
And you notice at the base of the oak tree,
There's a fire that's starting to burn.
Notice its crackling sounds.
Notice the smell of campfire in the summer eve.
And as this fire starts to burn steady,
It welcomes you.
And as you walk towards the fire,
Go ahead and place this heavy garment,
This role that no longer serves,
Into the flame.
Watch as it catches light,
Softening,
Curling,
Dissolving into sparks that rise into the autumn sky.
Like leaves carried away by the wind.
And go ahead and take a deep breath in and on your exhale,
Whisper gently to yourself,
I release what is not mine.
Feel the space opening in your body and notice the relief.
Notice the feeling of freedom.
And let the earth and the fire transform what you've surrendered into nourishment for new life.
And as the fire fades,
Notice that the earth beneath the oak has grown rich and fertile.
In your hands now rests a small seed,
A gift from your soul.
The seed holds the new truth that wants to grow in you.
And ask yourself,
What is this truth?
Maybe it's,
I am enough exactly as I am.
Or it's safe to rest.
Or I am supported and I don't have to carry it all alone.
Or perhaps your soul whispers something only you are meant to hear in this moment.
And when you're ready,
Go ahead and kneel down.
And press the seed into the warm earth at the root of the oak tree.
Go ahead and cover it gently with soil.
And place your hands above it and see a beautiful golden warm high vibrational light flowing from your heart.
Down to the seed,
Watering this new truth.
And with every breath that you breathe,
See the seed begin to sprout.
Tiny green shoots unfurl,
Stretching towards the starlit sky.
And watch as it grows taller and stronger and even brighter.
This new way of being rooted deeply in love,
Rising towards the possibility.
Repeat silently with each breath.
On your inhale,
I receive.
On your exhale,
I allow.
Inhale,
I plant new truth.
And exhale,
I trust my becoming.
Now go ahead and take a moment to stand in the meadow.
Seeing your new seed rooted and growing at the base of this old wise oak tree.
Around you,
The autumn leaves drip down,
Each one a reminder that release is natural.
It's sacred.
And it's necessary for new life.
You nurture your new truth not only in meditation,
But in the small choices you make every day.
Each act of care is a drop of water for the seed that you planted.
You are watering your seed when you say no to something that drains you,
Even if you feel guilty.
When you take a nap or simply rest without apology.
When you step outside to feel the crisp autumn air on your skin.
You water your seed when you let someone help you and receive with gratitude.
When you allow yourself to cry without judgment,
Letting emotions flow through you.
When you laugh loudly without holding it back.
You water your seed when you ask for what you need instead of waiting until you're depleted.
When you put your phone down and savor a moment of presence.
When you walk barefoot on the earth feeling your roots sink in.
When you can release the need to have a spotless home and just simply rest instead.
You water your seed when you speak your truth,
Even if your voice trembles.
When you step away from conflict instead of fixing it for everyone.
You water your seed when you celebrate your own wins without minimizing them.
When you allow yourself joy without condition.
When you laugh,
When you play,
And when you dance just because.
When you trust your intuition,
Even when it doesn't make sense to others.
And imagine your seed growing and glowing brighter each time that you honor your own needs.
And picture the season starting to move around this beautiful little seed you've created.
The warmth of summer sun.
The crisp winds of autumn.
The stillness of winter.
And the blossoming of spring.
Your seed grows through all.
Rooted in your love and nurtured by your presence.
And just rest here knowing that you are creating a life that feels aligned.
That feels sustainable.
That is deeply yours.
Every act of care is water.
Every boundary is sunlight.
Every pause is fertile soil.
And you grow when you feed it daily.
Just as the earth feeds her trees in every season.
Feel your roots anchored in the earth.
Strong and steady.
Sense your new truth glowing within you like a steady flame in your heart.
And let's take three grounding and integration breaths together.
Inhale peace.
Exhale release.
Inhale love and exhale gratitude.
Inhale your wholeness and exhale presence.
And as we bring our awareness back to our breath,
Start to notice the rise and the fall of your chest.
You can slowly start to bring in some gentle movement.
Maybe with a wiggle of the fingers and toes.
A slight and slow stretch of the shoulders.
Allowing the body to start to intuitively move as it wakes up.
And when you are completely ready,
You can go ahead and open your eyes.
Remembering you have walked the path.
You have released what was not yours.
And you planted a seed of truth.
Carry this light within you into the season ahead.
