There are moments when you take up space and almost immediately check whether it is too much.
This practice is called the part of you that learned to disappear,
Not because you need to become different,
Because something in you may need a place to land.
Feel the ground under you,
Let the front of the chest soften,
Let your hands rest without apologizing for needing support,
You do not have to perform calm,
You only have to notice what is already here.
Let one breath arrive,
Let one breath leave.
This is not a practice for becoming stronger in a way that erases your softness,
It is a practice for staying with yourself without shrinking.
Stay with me,
Because this is a deeper practice,
Give each phrase more room than you think it needs.
You can stay close to yourself here,
Quietly,
Without fixing anything first.
I do not need to disappear to be safe,
My presence is not too much,
I can be soft without surrendering myself,
I am allowed to occupy my own life.
You do not have to make this complete,
You do not have to force an ending,
Let the body take only what it can take today,
Let the rest remain simple.
You are allowed to leave this practice with less weight than you brought in,
Not because everything is resolved,
Because for a few minutes you stopped caring.