Find a position where the body can be still,
Lying down if that's possible,
Seated if you prefer.
If being still feels hard,
Then move.
You can listen as you roll on the floor or walk around.
We can soften whilst moving too.
Do what feels most accessible today.
You might let your eyes close now if it's okay to do so.
They can remain open too.
You don't need to feel everything today.
This is a practice you can return to.
And each time you return,
The body learns a little more that it's safe to soften,
That the ground is still there,
That you came back.
Like learning anything,
This takes repetition and this is the practice.
Softening a little,
Then returning to life and coming back here regularly.
For the next few minutes,
There is only this.
No one needs anything from you right now.
Whatever's happening in your life,
Can you let it exist at the edges for a while?
It doesn't need you to hold it in place anymore.
And we'll begin by noticing there's intelligence in what has hardened.
The bracing,
The armor,
The places that hold themselves so carefully.
They learned to do that.
It was the body trying to help and it probably did for a while.
So we're not here to override anything,
Not here to force the body open.
Just to arrive beside what's there with a little curiosity and a little tenderness.
You might begin with the jaw to notice what's there.
Perhaps it's held,
Perhaps the teeth are tightly touching,
Or the muscles at the side of the face are working without being asked to.
Just notice,
That's enough.
The shoulders,
How do they feel?
Perhaps they're somewhere near the ears or slightly forward,
Curled in around the chest.
Have the shoulders been carrying something,
Protecting?
Just notice.
The chest,
The belly,
Is there a sense of holding there?
A bracing against something or against nothing in particular,
Just a habit of protection.
Notice with as much kindness as possible.
Let awareness of the breath come now.
The breath is already moving,
Already softening whatever it can reach.
Perhaps the exhale can be a little longer than the inhale.
The exhale followed all the way to the end.
And you may notice a small pause before the inhale,
A moment of spaciousness.
Linger there at the very end of each exhale.
And following the breath all the way,
Inhale arriving,
Exhale softening as you go.
Breath moving in and out.
You might notice even slightly something beginning to change shape.
Just a small amount of release,
A fraction of ease returning to some small space of the body.
Soften,
Offered as an invitation,
Something the body might recognize even if the mind is unsure.
Soften,
The way candlelight softens a room,
The way warm water softens tense muscles,
The way an exhale can soften the space behind the eyes.
Perhaps the word finds the jaw or the hands,
The curl of the fingers gripping.
Soften,
Perhaps it lands somewhere deeper inside the chest,
The belly,
A space that has been holding something for so long.
You might breathe toward that space without needing it to change,
Just noticing.
Could there be a little more room here?
Soften,
Softening is not weakness,
Though we've been taught to fear it as such,
Especially when you've spent years being strong for others,
Being capable,
Being the one who holds it all together.
The body learns to brace and the bracing becomes invisible.
Just the shape of the day,
The shape of the body,
The shape of thoughts.
Underneath,
Often something is waiting to be known.
Grief or exhaustion,
The accumulated weight of life lived at full capacity for too long.
You don't have to feel it all today.
You might just soften a little at the edges,
Inhabit the body.
Then return to the day and come back to this practice again.
Each time the body learning a little more that it's safe to soften,
That you can go toward it and return a little at a time.
Each time you return to this practice,
The body remembers a little more.
Slowly,
The body learns that softening is okay enough,
That it can release and remain.
Moving gently through the body now,
To visit each place with the same gentle inquiry.
Is there anything here that can soften just a little?
The forehead,
The space between the brows,
The eyes behind their closed lids,
The jaw,
The tongue,
The throat,
The shoulders,
The upper arms,
The chest,
The ribs,
The belly,
Moving with breath and life,
The lower back,
The hips,
The place where the body meets the ground,
The legs,
The feet,
The soles of both feet and all they have walked through.
Not every place will soften,
Some will stay as they are and that's welcome.
Just whatever is ready,
Whatever can soften.
Present with the breath now,
Feeling the body present,
Alive.
Just this breath,
Just this moment,
Following the breath all the way out,
All the way.
If it feels welcome,
Perhaps place a hand on the chest or the belly and you might offer these words inwardly or simply let them be felt.
I can soften and stay safe,
I can release and remain,
There is softness in me even when I'm weary.
When you're ready,
Let movement return,
Gently through fingers and toes.
Let the eyes open slowly and the room return gently.
Carry this with you,
The knowledge that softness is available,
That you can return there,
That the body knows how.
You came here for yourself and something however small has softened.
Thank you for being here and know that you can return to this practice anytime and soften.
