Welcome.
Make yourself comfortable.
Let your body settle in its own time.
Take a deeper breath in.
And slowly let it go.
Again,
Breathing in.
And out.
Feel the weight of your body resting here.
Let the ground hold some of what you've been carrying.
You have spent time listening to others.
Noticing.
Pending.
Making room for what arrives.
For these next few moments.
Let this space belong to you.
Take another slow breath.
And when you feel ready,
Imagine yourself standing at the edge of a woodland.
There is an old path leading between the trees.
You may have walked this path before,
Although you cannot quite remember when.
The ground is soft beneath your feet.
Light moves through the branches.
Somewhere further in you can hear the faint crackle of a fire.
Begin to follow the path.
There is no need to hurry.
Let yourself notice the woodland as you walk.
The trees growing beside the path.
The movement of air.
The sounds close by and further away.
With each step.
Leave a little of the outside world behind.
The unfinished work.
The questions.
The conversations you have replayed in your mind.
The part of you that keeps asking,
Did I do enough?
Did I sense that correctly?
Am I really good at this?
You do not have to answer those questions here.
Keep walking.
Soon the trees begin to open around you.
There is a small clearing ahead.
The fire burning at its centre.
A woman is sitting beside it.
As you move closer,
You begin to recognize her.
There is something familiar in the way she sits.
In her hand.
In the way she looks up as you approach.
She is you.
Not a more perfect version of you.
Not someone you still need to become.
She is the part of you who knows your own medicine.
Part who remembers what you carry.
You sit beside her.
Feel the warmth of the fire between you.
For a while,
Neither of you needs to speak.
She already knows why you have come.
She knows how it feels when the connection to your work becomes faint.
When intuition feels more like guessing.
When you wonder whether you were truly helping anyone.
Let her see that part of you.
You do not need to make it sound wise or reasonable.
You can simply sit beside the fire as you are.
When you are ready,
You can ask her.
What do I forget when I doubt myself?
Her answer may come as words.
You may remember something.
You may notice a feeling move through your body.
Or you may simply sit together in the quiet.
Stay with whatever comes.
Look at her hands.
These are the hands that have learned to tend.
May have held oils,
Herbs.
Heart.
Cups of tea.
And the hands of other women.
They have created ceremony.
They have rested gently upon bodies carrying stories that could not always be spoken.
They are not empty hands.
Look down at your own.
Notice what it feels like to remember all they have done.
Your hearless self reaches across the fire and takes your hands in hers.
Her hands are warm.
Steady.
As she holds them,
Memories begin to stir.
Moments when you trusted what you felt.
When the right words came.
When you noticed something subtle and followed it.
When another woman softened because she knew she was safe with you.
That one of those moments return.
It does not need to be dramatic.
And maybe something small that stayed with you.
See where you were.
Remember what happened.
Notice what you knew.
This knowing did not leave you.
It may be harder to hear when you are tired.
It may be covered by pressure,
Disappointment,
Or the need for proof.
But it is still here.
Your Healer Self has been holding it for you.
Ask her one more question.
What do I need to trust now?
She releases one of your hands and reaches towards the fire.
From its edge she gathers a small ember.
It rests safely in her palm,
Glowing with a deep steady light.
She places it into your hand.
There is no need to be afraid of its heat.
This fire knows you.
Close your fingers gently around it.
Feel its warmth move into your palm.
Along your fingers.
Through your hands.
And slowly into the rest of your body.
This ember is your knowing.
It does not flare to convince you.
It does not call attention to itself.
It simply remains the light.
Your intuition may speak quietly.
You might not always understand it straight away.
You might question it and return to it later.
Trust does not mean never doubting yourself.
It means knowing how to find your way back when you do.
Your hearless self places her hand over your heart.
You feel the warmth of the ember there now.
She looks at you and says.
.
.
Your gifts are still here.
Let those words settle.
Your gifts are still here.
Sit with her beside the fire for as long as you need.
Let her presence remind you of something your mind cannot always prove.
You know how to listen.
You know how to be with another person without turning away from what hurts.
You know how to make a space feel sacred.
When you don't know what to do next.
You know how to become quiet enough to listen.
It is nearly time to return.
Your healer self stands with you.
Before you leave,
Notice if there is anything else she wants you to know.
The word,
The gesture.
Symbol or gift.
A look that stays with you.
Thank you.
She will remain close.
Not waiting somewhere deep in the woodland.
But travelling home within you.
Begin walking back along the path.
Feel the earth beneath your feet.
The air upon your skin.
The trees standing quietly around you.
You carry the ember home.
Its warmth rests in your hands and your heart.
Follow the path until you find yourself once more at the edge of the woodland.
Begin to notice the room around you.
Feel the surface beneath your body.
Listen to the sounds nearby.
Gently move your hands.
Take a fuller breath in.
And let it go.
Place one hand over your heart if that feels right.
Your gifts are still here.
The path back to them is still here.
And so are you.
When you're ready,
Slowly open your eyes.
