Welcome,
Dear one.
I'm so glad you're here.
Wherever you are,
However you feel,
You are safe to soften now.
You don't need to hold it all together in this moment.
You don't need to figure everything out right now.
This is your space.
A quiet sanctuary.
A pause between worlds.
So,
Allow your body to settle.
Allow your shoulders to drop.
Your jaw to unclench.
Your hands to rest.
And as you begin to breathe,
Just know this.
You are not alone in the dark.
And you are not lost.
Let's begin with your breath.
Breathe in slowly through the nose.
And exhale gently through the mouth.
Inhale.
Slow.
Steady.
And exhale.
Releasing.
One more time.
Breathe in.
And breathe out.
Now,
Let your breath return to a natural rhythm and simply notice it.
Like listening to waves from a distance.
With every inhale,
Imagine you're drawing in calm.
With every exhale,
Imagine you're letting go of heaviness.
And if your mind wanders,
That's okay.
Just return to the breath like a lantern returning to your hand.
Now imagine roots growing from the base of your spine and from the soles of your feet,
Reaching down into the earth.
Deep.
Steady.
Anchoring.
The earth holds you without question.
It does not ask you to explain your pain.
It simply supports you.
And let yourself be held.
I want you to imagine that you are standing at the edge of a great night.
Not a frightening night,
But a sacred one.
A night where the world is quiet.
Where the noise fades.
Where everything unnecessary falls away.
And perhaps this mirrors what you've been feeling lately.
Uncertainty.
Confusion.
Emotions you can't name.
Questions that don't yet have answers.
If you've been moving through a season where things feel unclear,
I want you to know something important.
Darkness is not always a sign of danger.
Sometimes it is the beginning of deep truth.
Sometimes it is where clarity is born.
So instead of resisting it,
You may simply whisper inwardly,
I am allowed to be here.
I am allowed to not know yet.
I am still safe.
Breathe in.
And breathe out.
In the centre of your chest,
A small,
Steady flame.
Not a roaring fire.
Not something that demands effort.
Just a quiet light.
A lantern within you.
This light has always been there.
Even when you couldn't feel it.
Even when life became heavy.
Even when you doubted yourself.
This is your inner knowing.
Your intuition.
Your soul's sight.
With every breath in,
That light grows a little brighter.
With every breath out,
It becomes steadier.
Imagine the glow warming your chest,
Softening your ribs,
Loosening the tightness you've been carrying.
And now,
Gently,
Place a hand over your heart if that feels good,
And whisper either aloud or in your mind,
I trust the light in me.
I trust my timing.
I trust that I will see what I need to see.
Let the lantern glow.
You begin to walk forward.
You are moving through a path at night.
But you are not afraid.
Because you are carrying your lantern.
And the lantern doesn't light the entire future.
It only lights the next few steps.
That is how clarity works.
Not all at once.
Not perfectly.
Not immediately.
But gently.
Truthfully.
Step by step.
As you walk,
You notice shapes in the darkness.
Old fears.
Old stories.
Old memories.
They don't attack you.
They don't chase you.
They simply exist.
And you don't need to fight them.
You only need to see them clearly.
You breathe.
And you remind yourself,
This is not the whole of me.
This is something passing through me.
I can witness without becoming it.
You keep walking.
Steady.
Brave.
Soon,
The path opens into a quiet clearing.
Above you,
The sky is dark velvet.
And the stars are watching like ancient guardians.
In the centre of the clearing is a smooth stone altar.
And upon it sits a bowl of still water.
This water is sacred.
It reflects truth.
You step closer.
And you look into the water.
At first,
You may see nothing.
Or you may see a blur.
Or you may see your own face.
Tired.
Trying.
Holding so much.
Whatever appears is okay.
Very gently,
Ask the water a question.
Not a frantic question.
Not a desperate one.
A quiet question.
You might ask,
What do I need to know right now?
Or,
What is my next step?
Or,
What is trying to become clear?
You breathe.
And then,
You simply breathe.
You do not force an answer.
You do not demand a sign.
You allow clarity to rise like mist.
And if a word comes,
A feeling,
An image,
A memory,
A direction,
Receive it softly.
And if nothing comes,
That is also clarity.
Because sometimes the message is,
Rest.
Wait.
Not yet.
You're safe.
Let whatever is true be enough.
Now,
The lantern in your chest grows brighter again.
It expands outward,
Filling your whole body with warm light.
This light moves through your arms,
Your hands,
Your belly,
Your legs,
Your feet.
And now it forms a gentle shield around you.
A cocoon of calm.
A circle of protection.
Nothing can enter this space that is not meant for your highest good.
Breathe in.
And feel strength returning.
Not harsh strength.
Not forced strength.
But the quiet strength of someone who keeps going,
Even when it's hard.
The strength of someone who is learning to trust themselves again.
And now,
Repeat these words after me,
Slowly.
Even in the dark,
I am guided.
Even in uncertainty,
I am held.
Even in change,
I remain whole.
Clarity is coming.
I am safe to see.
Now,
Dear one,
It's time to return.
The clearing remains within you.
The lantern remains within you.
And the darkness is no longer something to fear.
Because you know now,
You are not meant to see the entire path tonight.
Only the next step.
So begin to feel your body again.
The surface beneath you.
The air around you.
Wiggle your fingers.
Wiggle your toes.
Take a deeper breath in.
And sigh it out.
And when you're ready,
Slowly open your eyes.
And carry this with you.
You will not stay in the dark forever.
Clarity is already finding you.
And you are stronger than you think.
