Find a position where your body feels supported,
Either lying down or sitting,
Somewhere you can truly let go.
Allow your body to settle,
As if it has been waiting for this moment of pause.
Close your eyes if you wish and begin by noticing the simple fact that you are here,
Breathing,
Resting,
Alive.
Feel the contact of your body with the surface beneath you,
Not just as pressure,
But as a meeting.
A quiet conversation between you and the ground.
Imagine that every point of contact is an invitation to soften.
Shoulders releasing.
Back settling.
Hips heavy.
Feet resting.
Now take your attention to the soles of your feet.
Without moving them,
Sense their weight,
Their texture,
The quiet hum of aliveness inside them.
Imagine them glowing faintly,
Like embers.
With each breath out,
Those embers grow warmer,
Steadier,
Sending gentle waves of grounding through your whole body.
Bring your awareness slowly upward through the legs,
Belly,
Chest,
Pausing wherever you feel tension.
Instead of trying to change it,
Imagine wrapping that area in kindness,
As if your breath were a soft cloth draping over it.
The body doesn't always need to be fixed.
Sometimes it only needs to be witnessed with gentleness.
Now,
Place a hand softly over your heart and another over your belly.
Feel the rise and fall of breath beneath your palms.
Notice how your body rocks you ever so slightly with each inhale and exhale.
You are being cradled by your own rhythm,
The oldest rhythm you know.
If it feels natural,
Let yourself sway gently,
Almost imperceptibly,
As though you were a tree in the breeze,
Rooted and grounded,
Yet fluid and alive.
Feel how safety is not a still,
Rigid thing,
But a soft,
Flowing presence that holds you.
Stay here for a few more breaths,
Allowing this sense of rootedness and safety to expand.
Trust that your body knows how to ground you,
How to return you to yourself.
When you are ready,
Release your hands and open your eyes slowly,
Carrying with you the quiet reminder,
I am here.
I am safe.
I am home in my body.