So when you're ready,
Take a slow,
Deep breath in,
Long and full,
And breathe out.
Releasing whatever the day has left behind the body.
Because the day does leave things behind,
Tension that's settled into the shoulders without asking permission.
A conversation that is still running somewhere in the background.
The weights of decisions made,
And decisions deferred,
And the general low-level effort of being a person in the world for another full day.
None of it needs to come with you tonight.
With each exhale,
Let a little more of it go.
Not forced,
Not effortful,
Just the natural release of a body that is finally Genuinely.
Given permission.
To stop.
I'd like you to bring your attention to your hands and palms.
Feel the weight of them wherever they are resting.
The warmth in them.
And let the fingers uncurl slightly,
The palms open or resting face down.
Whichever feels more natural.
For you.
And now the arm.
Happy.
And more.
Sinking into the surface.
Beneath them.
The shoulders feel them drop a little further.
With your next exhale.
Further than feels natural.
Further.
The new thought.
They could go.
On the chest.
Feel it rise and fall with each breath.
Easy.
And slow.
No holding,
No bracing.
Just the body doing.
It is always dawn.
Down,
Down,
Through the belly now,
Soft and relaxed.
Rising gently with each inhale.
And falling away with each exhale.
The hips.
The lower back releasing against whatever is beneath you,
The legs heavy,
The knees soft.
The calves,
Letting go of the day.
All the way down through the feet.
The ankles loose.
Every small muscle.
Releasing.
The tension.
Of hours of moving and standing and carrying.
Working its way down and out.
Your whole body now.
From the top of your head to the soles of your feet.
Warm and held.
Breathing slowly.
Without instruction,
Without effort,
Doing exactly what you need to do.
What it was built.
To do.
The mind may still have things it wants to say.
Thoughts arriving,
Ideas surfacing.
The tomorrow.
Already beginning to assemble itself in the background.
You can tell it gently.
For tonight.
Is not the time.
Then everything will still be there in the morning.
That right now.
The job is this.
And the mind.
Given enough quiet.
Always accepts that.
Eventually.
I want you to imagine the day leaving your body now.
Not dramatically,
Just as slow.
Grudge or more.
Release.
The conversations dissolving.
The decisions fading.
The effort of the day becoming lighter.
And every breath.
Less present,
Less insistent,
Until it is just a distant thing that happened to someone who is now resting and has no use for it until morning.
You are not that person right now.
Right now.
You are simply a body.
Breathing.
Heavy.
Held by the surface beneath you,
And the quiet of wherever you are,
And the steady presence of the frequency doing its quiet work.
Underneath.
Everything.
Let the breath find its own rhythm now.
In and out.
Slow.
Body leading,
And the mind following.
Finally.
Following.
You are closer to sleep than you were a moment ago.
Closer still.
The frequency is setting.
Into the cells of your body now.
Into the places.
Needed repair.
And restoration.
The kind of love.
Unhurried healing.
Only.
Happens in sleep.
All you need to do.
Is free.
And let go.
And breathe.
And let go.
