Begin by finding a place where you can be undisturbed,
Perhaps sitting comfortably or lying down,
Whatever allows your body to feel held.
Let the eyes close,
Softly,
Not tightly,
Just enough that the outer world begins to fade.
Feel the weight of your body,
Where it meets the earth,
The chair,
The bed,
Let that contact be the first anchor.
Nothing to do here,
Simply notice that you are already being supported.
Now bring one hand or both to rest gently over the center of your chest,
The sacred chamber the ancients called the cave of the inner temple,
The place where the unstruck sound the Anahata Nada eternally hums.
Let the palm rest there,
Lightly,
Like a bird that has come home to its nest,
No pressure,
Just presence.
With each breath,
Allow the warmth of your own hand to meet the warmth that is already alive inside.
This is the first meeting point,
The outer and the inner greeting one another.
Breathe in,
Breathe out even more slowly,
As though you are breathing with the entire torso,
Not forcing,
Simply inviting the breath to widen,
To soften,
To become a quiet river.
Now without effort,
Let your awareness drop a little deeper,
Below thought,
Below even the emotions that may be moving,
Into the subtle current that the Taoists call the small heavenly circuit,
The orbit of light that travels down the front of the body on the exhale and rises again along the spine on the inhale,
Like the eternal turning of water into cloud and cloud into rain.
You do not need to direct this,
It is already happening.
We are only remembering.
On the next exhale,
Imagine a soft golden white light descending from the crown,
Passing through the brow,
The heart,
Gathering any heaviness,
Any density,
Carrying it downward,
Through the belly,
The hips,
The legs,
Releasing it into the earth like fallen leaves returning to soil.
On the inhale,
Feel an answering current rising,
Cool silvery lunar,
Up the spine,
Nourishing every center it passes,
Until it spills over the crown like moonlight on still water.
Let this happen three more times,
At its own pace.
Now rest your awareness in the heart once more.
In the western mystery schools,
This place was known as the rose of the heart,
The five petal flower that opens only in the presence of authentic feeling.
See or sense a small rose of living light at the center of your chest.
Neither forced nor imagined too sharply,
Simply allowed.
With each breath,
The rose breathes with you.
Its fragrance is your own original energy,
The signature of your soul before words.
If any thought arises,
Let it touch the rose and dissolve,
Like mist burning off in the morning sun.
Nothing is refused here,
Everything is transformed.
Now,
Widen the awareness,
Feel the body sitting inside a larger body of light,
The subtle sheath the ancients called the auric egg,
The oval of living opal that extends just beyond your skin.
This field is not separate from the field of the room,
The field of the earth,
The field of the stars,
As above,
So below,
As within,
So without.
Let yourself rest in this truth for a few breaths.
There's no edge where you end and the world begins.
There's only one breathing.
And now,
Very gently,
Bring the palms together in front of the heart,
Or let them rest on the thighs,
Palms open.
Offer a silent acknowledgement to the unseen companions who always travel with us.
The guardians,
The ancestors,
The quiet intelligences of nature.
Those who work through the hands when we practice Reiki.
Those who answer when we simply become still.
Let gratitude arise,
Not as a concept,
But as a warmth in the chest,
A soft expansion.
When you feel ready,
Whenever that may be,
Begin to deepen the breath once more.
Feel the body in the room,
The air on the skin,
The sounds around you.
Carry this quiet river with you.
It does not leave when the eyes open.
It only waits beneath the surface of everything you do.
Patient.
Alive.
Already whole.
Gently wiggle fingers and toes.
Stretch if you like.
And when you are ready,
Let the eyes open.
Bringing the inner light out into the world.
Thank you for sharing this time.
