Before we begin,
A few words about this practice.
Yoga Nidra is often translated as yogic sleep.
But it isn't sleep in the usual sense.
It's a state of deep rest,
Where the body can completely soften,
While the mind remains quietly aware.
In this space between waking and sleeping,
The nervous system begins to settle.
The layers of tension we carry can gently unwind,
And the body is given a chance to restore itself in a profound way.
There is nothing you need to do here.
No effort to concentrate.
No need to get it right.
You may drift at times.
You may feel deeply present.
You might even fall asleep.
All of that is welcome.
This practice works gently beneath the surface,
Like rain soaking into the soil.
In the spirit of Celtic wisdom,
There is also a returning.
A returning to the body,
To the breath,
To the quiet,
Steady presence beneath it all.
A remembering that just like the natural world,
You are not meant to be in constant doing.
There are seasons for rest,
And this,
My friend,
Is one of them.
So for now,
Allow yourself to be guided,
To be held,
And to simply rest.
Lie down and allow your body to be fully supported.
Let the ground receive you,
As if the earth itself is gently holding your weight.
A soft invitation now to close the eyes.
Feel the places where your body meets the surface beneath you.
The back of the head,
Shoulders,
Legs,
Hips,
Heels,
No effort,
Nothing to hold.
A quiet remembering.
You do not need to carry anything right now.
Take a slow breath in through the nose,
And a long,
Unhurried breath out through the mouth.
Again.
Slow inhale,
And a soft sigh out.
Letting the breath now return to its own rhythm.
In this restful place,
A simple intention can be planted.
Not from striving,
But from truth.
Perhaps something like,
I am safe to rest.
I belong to the rhythm of life.
I am held.
Let your words arise,
Gently,
Naturally.
Repeat your intention now,
Quietly to yourself,
As though placing a seed into fertile soil.
Now we begin a slow journey through the body.
Awareness moves like soft light.
Touching,
Sensing,
Then moving on.
Bring your awareness to the right hand,
Right thumb,
Right palm,
Second finger,
Third finger,
Fourth finger,
Little finger,
Palm of the hand,
Back of the hand,
Wrist,
Shoulder,
Right side of the body,
Right foot,
Sole of the foot,
Big toe,
Second toe,
Little toe.
Now left side,
Left thumb,
Second finger,
Third,
Little finger,
Back of hand,
Wrist,
Forearm,
Left waist,
Wrist,
Hip,
Lower leg,
Ankle,
Left foot,
Heel,
Big toe,
Second,
Little toe.
Now bring awareness to the back body,
Back of the head,
Shoulder blades,
Gently resting,
Lower back,
And now the front body,
Forehead,
Space between the brows,
Soft cheeks,
Jaw unclenched,
Chest,
Heart space,
Soft and rising,
Whole body now,
Resting,
Breathing.
Begin to notice your breath in the belly.
As you inhale,
The belly gently rises.
As you exhale,
It softens back.
Imagine now,
With each inhale,
You are breathing in the quiet strength of the earth.
With each exhale,
You release any weight you've been carrying.
You might sense beneath you the deep ancient ground,
Stone,
Soil,
Root,
The slow intelligence of nature.
In Celtic tradition,
The land was never separate.
It was kin,
An anim cara,
A soul friend.
Let the earth be your companion now,
Holding,
Steady.
Imagine you are lying in a quiet forest clearing,
Soft moss beneath you,
Supportive.
Tall trees rise around you,
Gentle,
Rooted,
Wise.
Light filters through the branches,
Dappled,
Soft,
Gentle.
You are completely safe here.
The air is fresh,
Carrying the scent of earth and green life.
Perhaps you hear a breeze moving through leaves,
Or the distant sound of water.
Feel now that the trees are aware of you,
Not watching,
But acknowledging,
As if they recognise you,
As if you belong here.
From beneath you,
The earth offers a quiet nourishment,
Not something you need to take,
But something already given.
Let it rise gently through the body,
Through the back of the heart,
The spine,
The whole being.
A slow remembering.
You are not alone.
You have never been separate.
Rest here in the grove,
In stillness,
In belonging.
Let go now of all images.
No need to hold anything.
Simply rest in awareness itself.
Breathing.
Sensing.
Being.
Nothing to do.
Gently return to the breath.
Notice the body lying here.
Supported.
At rest.
Bring back your intention,
The quiet seed you planted earlier.
Repeat it again now,
Three times.
Softly,
As if it now has deeper roots.
Begin to invite small movements.
Fingers,
Toes.
A gentle stretch,
If it feels right.
Take a deeper breath in,
And a slow breath out.
When you're ready,
Roll gently to one side,
Pausing there,
And slowly come back up to sitting.
Carry this sense with you,
Of being held,
Of belonging,
Of returning.
