Welcome,
Dear one.
Begin by settling your body.
Wherever you are,
Allow yourself to soften.
Nothing to hold.
Nothing to reach for.
Take a slow breath in through the nose.
And exhale gently through the mouth.
Breathing in calm.
And breathing out the weight of the day.
One more time,
Deep,
Slow,
Intentional.
With each breath,
Feel yourself drifting inward.
As though your awareness is being gently drawn back into yourself.
Like a tide returning to the sea.
In your inner vision,
Imagine a quiet place appearing before you.
A narrow path,
Stone beneath your feet.
The air cool,
Still and safe.
At the end of the path stands an old wooden door.
Etched with symbols you don't need to understand.
This door has always been here.
When you are ready,
You place your hand upon it,
And it opens effortlessly.
You step into a vast,
Candlelit library.
Shelves stretch high and wide,
Filled with ancient books.
The air smells of parchment,
Herbs and time itself.
This is not a place of noise or urgency.
It exists outside of time.
Here no one asks you to prove what you know.
Nothing demands to be learned.
You notice something strange.
The books are alive.
Some hum softly.
Some glow faintly.
And some move.
As you walk deeper into the library,
One book begins to stir.
The book rests on a low table,
Bathed in warm light.
Its cover is plain,
Unmarked yet unmistakably yours.
As you approach,
The pages begin to turn,
Slowly,
Gently,
Without being touched.
You realize,
This book is not reading to you,
It is remembering you.
The pages do not show words,
But impressions,
Feelings,
Symbols,
Moments of knowing.
Allow whatever appears to do so naturally.
There is no right way to see this.
As the pages turn,
Feel a warmth spreading through your chest,
As if something long held is being softly returned to you.
You are not receiving new wisdom.
You are reclaiming what has always lived within.
A single page settles open.
This page carries a message meant only for this moment in your life.
You may sense it as a word,
An image,
A feeling,
Or simply a deep,
Calm certainty.
Let it arrive without effort.
This knowing does not rush,
It does not shout,
It waits patiently to be felt.
Take a breath,
And allow it to sink gently into your body,
Into your heart,
Your bones,
Your breath.
The book slowly closes,
Its work is done.
As you step away,
The library begins to soften.
The shelves fading,
The candlelight dimming,
But the wisdom does not leave.
It is sealed within you now,
Quiet,
Steady,
Accessible whenever you choose to listen.
You find yourself once more at the doorway,
You step through,
The path dissolves.
Bring awareness back to your breath,
To your body,
To the space around you.
When you are ready,
Gently open your eyes.
Blessed be.
