Hello,
I'm Kate,
Welcome.
Let's together just be gently guided by this meditation,
A space to just be.
And so now,
Just for a while,
You can allow yourself to be here,
Nothing to fix,
Nothing to solve,
Just this moment,
Just you,
Settling,
Arriving,
Beginning again.
Take a moment now to gently close your eyes,
We'll soften your gaze if that feels better.
Notice the weight of your body,
Supported,
Held.
Let your attention slowly move to the places where your body is supported,
Your feet,
Your hips,
Your shoulders,
As if the earth itself is gently cradling you,
No effort,
Just gravity,
Just being.
And as you notice your breath,
You don't have to change it,
Just let it be what it is.
Inhale,
Exhale,
A quiet rhythm that's always been there.
You may begin to feel that the breath is doing its own work,
Softening you from the inside out,
Loosening what was tight,
Clearing what's no longer needed.
And maybe already you're beginning to sense that this moment is enough,
That this moment is all it needs to be.
I'd like to invite you now to imagine yourself beside a quiet stream.
The water is clear,
Gently flowing,
Carrying leaves along its surface with the softest of movements.
You might notice the sound of it,
The hush,
The rhythm,
The peace.
You are safe here,
This place exists only for you.
And as you stand by the edge of the stream,
Perhaps you begin to notice that each leaf drifting by can carry something away,
Something you've been holding,
Something that's ready to be released.
You don't have to name it,
You don't have to explain it,
You only need to notice that you've been carrying more than you need.
Maybe it's a thought,
A memory,
A feeling in your body and without needing to force it you can place it gently on one of those leaves and let it go.
No judgment,
No resistance,
Just a soft surrender to the stream that already knows where to take it.
Because letting go doesn't always look like a grand release,
Sometimes it looks like a quiet exhale,
A loosening,
A permission to not hold so tightly.
And if your mind drifts that's okay too,
That's what minds do.
You can always return to the stream,
To the leaves,
To the knowing that whatever you place there will be carried for you.
And maybe now you begin to notice something lighter,
Something quieter,
A space where tension used to live.
And if your body is listening too,
You might feel a shift in your chest,
Your jaw,
Your tummy,
Like your body already knows what it means to let go.
Because if something feels softer it simply means you're changing and you don't need to change all at once.
You don't need to be ready,
You only need to be willing,
To be curious,
To notice,
To place one more leaf on the water and watch it float away.
You might even begin to notice that some of what you've been carrying wasn't even yours to hold,
That some of the weight was made of stories you no longer need to live by.
And with every breath you take,
You are gently rewriting those stories.
With every breath you are returning to yourself.
And if there's a voice that's been harsh with you,
A voice that questions or criticizes,
Perhaps today is the day that voice learns to quiet and something else,
Something kinder takes its place.
A voice that says I am safe now,
I am growing slowly,
I don't need to hold on to what no longer fits.
And as that new voice settles in,
You might begin to feel that this space around you is beginning to shift too.
Maybe a sense of light or warmth or the stillness of being enough.
And it can be quite something to notice that even now,
Even in stillness,
You are moving forward.
Before we close,
Allow yourself to return one last time to the stream,
To the leaves,
And if anything else wants to be released without needing to name it,
Place it there.
And trust that the water knows what to do.
Let go.
Because each time you do,
You make space for something new,
Something more true,
Something more you.
And as you carry this softness back into the world,
You may be surprised how much easier it becomes to meet your life with gentleness,
To say no without guilt,
To say yes without fear,
To return again and again to your own stillness.
And as we begin to close,
There's nothing you need to do,
No rush,
No urgency.
You can stay right here in this space you've created,
Letting calm settle into the corners of your body,
Letting quiet carry you a little longer.
Perhaps you'll carry this stillness into whatever comes next,
Or perhaps you'll remain just as you are,
Resting in the softness.
And when the time feels right for you,
You can begin to move gently,
Maybe with a breath,
A stretch,
Or simply a quiet smile from the inside out.
May you continue to let go as gently and as often as you need.
And may something beautiful grow in the space that remains.
I'll see you soon.
