Wherever you are right now.
However you are feeling.
I am glad you are here.
Find a comfortable position.
Let your body settle into whatever is holding it.
And when you're ready.
Gently close your eyes.
Take a slow breath in through your nose.
And a long easy breath out.
Again.
Breathing in.
Feeling the air arrive.
Breathing out.
Letting the body soften just a little.
Notice the surface beneath you.
The solid,
Faithful ground that is holding your weight without asking anything of you.
Let yourself be held by it.
Notice your hands,
The temperature of them.
The weight of them wherever they're resting.
Just present.
Just here.
And become aware of your breath.
Moving in and out.
On its own steady and unhurried rhythm.
Your body already knows how to be here.
You just have to let it.
Good.
You are here and that is enough to begin.
Before we go any further.
.
.
I want to acknowledge something gently.
Something happened.
Maybe recently.
Or perhaps a long time ago that still lives in your body as if it was yesterday.
A mistake.
A moment that you'd rewrite if you could.
Something said or done or left undone.
Something that you wish had been different.
And in the wake of it.
Perhaps a voice arrived.
A voice that took one thing,
That one moment.
And made it mean something much larger.
Something about who you are or what you deserve or whether you are fundamentally good.
That voice is what we call shame.
And is one of the heaviest things a person can carry.
I want to offer you something now.
Not a way to pretend it didn't happen.
Not a quick fix.
But a reframing,
A shift in how you are seeing it.
From inside the shame to somewhere a little more spacious.
I'd like to take you somewhere.
And if imagery doesn't come easily.
Just allow the words to wash over you.
There's no right way to receive this.
Picture yourself outside,
Maybe somewhere in nature.
Somewhere that feels open and quiet.
Maybe a field,
A woodland path or the edge of the sea.
A place with room to breathe.
You are walking slowly.
And as she walked.
.
.
You become aware that someone is walking towards you from a little way ahead.
As they come closer.
You begin to recognise them.
It's you.
But younger.
The version of you that existed before life got complicated.
Before you learned to be hard on yourself.
The child you were,
When you were still learning what it meant to be human.
They come and stand before you.
And you look at them.
Really look.
Their face.
Their eyes,
Just the particular way that they hold themselves.
And you realise.
You would never speak to this child the way the shame has been speaking to you.
If this child had made a mistake,
Said the wrong thing,
Hurt someone without meaning to,
Got something badly wrong.
You would not tell them they were bad.
You would not make that one moment mean everything about who they were.
You would kneel down,
Look them in the eye.
And probably say something like.
.
.
Something happened and you're still good.
Stay with this child for a moment.
Let them feel and receive that from you.
And now,
I'd like to invite you to consider.
.
.
What would it mean to offer yourself that same grace?
Not to excuse what happened.
Not to pretend it didn't matter.
But to separate the action from the person.
To hold the mistake with honesty and your own worth with equal honesty.
Because here is something true,
Something that shame,
Voice,
Will never tell you.
Making mistakes is not evidence that you are bad.
It's evidence that you are human.
That you are present in the room.
You are trying.
Even when the trying went wrong.
The tree that bends in a storm and loses a branch.
Is still a tree.
It's still rooted.
It's still alive.
It's still growing.
And that lost branch doesn't define it.
You are still rooted.
You are still growing.
One moment,
However painful,
Does not define the whole of you Allow that young version of you to know that.
Let them feel it.
And let yourself feel it alongside them.
Let these affirmations arrive gently.
Receive them in the way you'd receive them if they came from someone who loves you and sees you clearly.
Something happened.
I am still good.
I'm allowed to have gotten it wrong and still belong here.
I meet my mistakes with honesty and myself with kindness.
I am more than any single mistake.
I am the whole of my life.
I am still growing.
That is enough.
Begin to let the image of that place and that younger version of you gently fade.
Carrying the feeling,
Not the picture,
Just the feeling,
Back with you as you return.
Begin to feel the surface beneath you again.
The weight of your body.
The air around you.
Take a slow breath in.
And a long breath out.
Gently begin to bring some movement back,
Perhaps wiggling your fingers and toes.
Maybe stretching if that feels good.
And when you're ready.
In your own time,
At your own pace.
Gently opening your eyes.
And carry this forward with you.
Are quite knowing that shame is not the truth of you.
That one moment does not write the whole story.
That the most courageous thing you can do.
After something goes wrong is to choose to stay in your own corner.
Something happened.
You are still good.
Come back to this practice anytime Shane gets loud.
It will be here.
