When You Forget Who You Are

This is a short visualization exercise to help ground you when life gets a little crazy. For when you feel you've drifted too far, and need a gentle reminder of who you're aiming towards being. This guided meditation draws on elements of somatic and psychological training, and can be returned to as often as you need, if you find it helps.

Background Music: "Serenity in the Woods" by Liborio Conti (Used under Royalty-Free Commercial License)

Transcript

Hello there, Friend Welcome to Somatic Muse I am Kat, And I am here to help guide you back to your own muse, To what drives and excites you, To your truest, Highest self. Before we start this meditation. I'd like to take a moment to invite you to properly let yourself arrive. To acknowledge all the events of the day. All the emotions. All the plans you've brought to this place. Try as you notice them to remain impartial. I know that's a big ask. But you are now in a place where anything is possible. You are merely a spectator. This is life as it is happening. This is the river as it undulates forward. This is the world. Try not to judge or categorize the world. Or anything else that comes up for you today quietly repeat to yourself. . . It's just where I'm at today. It's just where I'm at today Welcome, Now that you've arrived as you really are And now that we've arrived. Let us begin our journey. If I open my eyes. I know I am here. And you know that at any point, If this gets to be too much, You have the option to open your eyes and just come back If I open my eyes, I am here. But if I close them, I can see myself moving down a calm, Secret forest path. One that only I know about. Here, I hear the blessed sound of birds above. Here, I kick a mound of leaves with my foot. Hear the crunch, The possibility of a new season. I am in a place where the sun shines only for me, Warming my back, My arms, My face, Enveloping me into safety, Welcoming me along my journey. Here, I can walk in the fullness of who I am. I can forget all the people I've had to be today. I can forget the amiable spouse, The understanding parent, The tempered employee, The kind neighbor. The dutiful child. At my side, A tree stump, Like a secret nook. A place where I can put down all these masks that I wear, So that I can pick them up again when I have need. But for now, We do not need them here. We can set them down and ease our love. How can you ease your load right now? What do you feel safe to leave behind? I walk on. Slightly different lighter. More sure with each step. Perhaps a little confident now. Before me as I go down the path. I begin to notice a silhouette. And as I approach, That silhouette becomes. That of a child. They're about to eat. I remember them, Though, In a strange way. For one, I remember the pictures other people have shown me of them. But I also remember what it was to be them. What it was to be eight. What they liked about themselves. What they were afraid of. How they felt about a sibling or lack thereof. I approach until I am standing before them. They look at me. They open their mouth. They say when I grow up. I will be. When I grow up. I will be. They beckon for me to follow. I remember I am only a spectator. As such, I must continue on my path I say goodbye. But before that, I say thank you. I reach down. I hugged them to me for a good 10 seconds. I look behind me once or twice, But the child has vanished. As I move instead, I begin to distinguish. Something else. It is a strange shape. Something dangling from a tree branch? A low tree branch, But a little dangerous. A little naughty, Nevertheless. I approach, Intrigued. I look up and recognize the 16-year-old, Those swaying bare feet, The clothes, The attitude. Sizes me up Assesses me Knows me Dismisses me Then says You're gonna have to do better with me. The tricks that worked at eight don't work with me no more. You're gonna have to do better with me. In their way. And then I wait some more And when enough time has passed, When they become convinced in all their wilderness and their beauty, All 16 years of brilliant light, When enough time passes. The figure in the tree continues. When I grow up, They tell me self-assured and knowing. When I grow up, I will be. I will do. I will become. This time I am not invited in for a hug. But I get that. I know better than anyone how much love they have inside them. Gently, I wave goodbye. Try my best to be cool. Walk on. The next person almost knocks me down. They are moving forward with such a rush. They look to be about 26. No, 27. They size me up, Though less harshly than the previous encounter. They take my measure. And the eye. I know better than to take theirs. I know the rush they're in, The disappointments they already carry, The love, The grief. They look at me and shake their heads. They say when I grow up. I will be. I look at them. Take in all their grace, Their beauty, Their youth. All the promise of being young, Of becoming properly myself. I breathe in their scent. Through loveliness. I fall and step beside them and we walk together for a while. But then my attention begins to drift to the path up ahead. The brambles, The thicket, The little rocks that line the path. The sound of a hair crossing. I lose them in the light. And when I look around. They've gone. The woods have fallen quiet. It is suddenly as though the entire forest listens only to me. I have attracted an audience. I recognize the light that shines on me as welcoming me to speak. When I grow up, I will be. When I grow up. I will be. If you at home are in a place where you feel comfortable and safe speaking out loud, I encourage you to do so. When I grow up. I will be. The forest hears me. Listens to me. Knows what it is to be here. In the place where I am now, To feel as I do. To conduct myself in the world as I do. It knows my love. And my grief. And it takes my measure and it welcomes me applauds me. When I grow up. I will be. There is no doubt in my mind about that inside this place. I walk on, But I take that wonderful feeling with me. Beyond, The path begins to taper off. But I know the way now I know how to come back here. I've learned now to remember. And I can come here as often as I need Gently, I begin to deepen my breath. Perhaps I invite a tiny movement a small wiggle of my toes, A little sway in my seat. I begin the long journey home. When you are ready, You may open your eyes and return to the village with all this abundance of knowledge that you have gained in your adventure. Well done, And thank you for walking with me.