Tonight.
We are going to talk about someone who is missing.
You already know who it is.
The name came on its own.
You have probably been told that you had to move on.
To grieve.
To get over it.
These sentences come from people who love you.
They are based on a mistaken idea.
Let us take the time to say it.
Because it has done a lot of damage.
For almost the entire 20th century.
People were taught that grieving meant letting go.
Cutting the bond.
Ending it in order to start again.
That was the official theory.
And all these sentences people still repeat to you today.
Come from it.
Since the 1990s.
Researchers have been describing the opposite.
They call it continuing bonds.
It means one simple thing.
The bond is not cut.
It changes form.
It stops being a voice on the phone.
An occupied chair at the table.
A message on Sunday.
And it moves inside.
It does not wear out.
Time does not erase it.
Contrary to what is often said.
It becomes something that weighs on you some days.
And holds you up on others.
Tonight.
No one will ask you to let go of anything at all.
We are going to walk in a quiet place and look at what remains.
I recommend that you practice this meditation for at least 30 consecutive nights.
That is the time needed for your unconscious to absorb the content of this video.
And if you fall asleep during the practice.
Do not worry,
It is completely natural.
Your unconscious keeps listening even while you sleep.
And goes on reprogramming itself.
And now.
Settle into your bed.
The meditation will begin soon.
Your eyes have finished their day.
Let them close without waiting to feel ready.
Your body knows this gesture by heart.
In front of you.
There is a path.
It slopes gently downward.
The ground is warm.
Like earth that has kept the heat of the day.
7 Steps.
One per exhale.
First step.
Your foot lands flat.
And the noise of the day recedes.
Second step.
The earth is softer.
Your shoulders lower with your heel.
Third step.
Something sinks inside you.
As your foot sinks down.
Fourth step.
You are halfway and no one is waiting for you anymore.
Fifth step.
The slope evens out.
Your breath lengthens on its own.
Sixth Step The warmth rises from the ground and takes hold of your feet.
Seventh Step.
There are no more steps to take.
That place is very gentle.
Place your attention in the center of your chest.
A little to the left.
There is a heartbeat.
Give it time to appear.
It has not missed a single day.
Even during the heaviest months.
At this spot.
A warmth begins.
It waits for one beat.
Then moves out in a wave.
The first wave opens your chest.
Your ribs spread.
Your shoulder blades flatten.
And the top of your back gives up its weight.
The second fills your throat.
There are words there that never made it out.
The warmth sits down beside them and keeps them warm.
The third reaches your face.
Your jaw lets go.
Your tongue surrenders.
Your eyelids are heavy.
Your temples open.
Your forehead widens all the way to the nape of your neck.
Which gives its weight to the pillow.
With each inhale.
The next wave prepares.
With each exhale it unfolds.
The fourth moves down into your shoulders.
Then into your arms.
Too heavy to be lifted.
Your elbow opens.
Your wrist lets go.
Each finger opens in turn.
The fifth unfolds the hollow under your ribs.
This place closes in the morning.
When memory returns before you do.
The knot loosens.
Like a rope that is untied by one turn.
Your belly rounds.
Your hips settle down as they open.
The sixth moves through your legs.
Your thighs spread.
Warm.
Your calves lose their tension.
Your ankles yield.
The warmth reaches the soles of your feet.
And your toes spread.
The waves merge.
Only one remains.
Very wide and very slow.
In rhythm with your heart.
And your whole body relaxes deeply.
Comes warm and heavy.
Completely released from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head.
The bed receives it fully.
There is not a single place in you still holding on to anything.
In this warmth.
Allow your unconscious to open.
Let it open at its own pace.
The way dew comes over a meadow during the night.
No one lays it there.
And in the morning it is everywhere.
And now imagine on your inner screen.
A dirt path bordered by high hedges.
Stretching between two fields.
At the blue hour before dawn.
The blue light softens shapes without erasing them.
The earth is soft under your feet.
Heavy with the rain from the night.
It gives way just a little with each step.
And the sound of your footsteps stays low.
On each side.
The hedges are high and wet.
Heavy with white blossoms.
The air is cool on your face.
It is sweet with a green scent of elder and hawthorn.
That only rises at this hour.
Very far ahead.
A bird tries out its first phrase of the day.
A wet branch brushes your arm and leaves a fresh trace on your skin.
At the entrance of the path.
On the left.
There is a low wall.
Flat stones piled by hand.
With nothing holding them together.
It holds anyway.
And it will still hold long after we are gone.
Come closer.
The top stone is cold and rough under your palm.
Moss has grown in the gaps.
And it is soaked.
Stop and look at what you are carrying.
You have arrived with your arms full without noticing it.
These are neither your memories nor your grief.
They are sentences.
The ones people have said to you.
With affection and clumsiness.
That you have to turn the page.
That you have to do your grieving.
That you have to move on.
Here they have a shape.
Small flat grey slates.
One per sentence.
They were placed in your arms.
And you carried them out of politeness.
Take the top one.
Hold it for a moment.
Then set it down flat on the stones.
It makes a small dry sound.
And the sound goes off toward the fields.
Take the next one.
Put it beside the first.
Wait for the sound to fade before the third.
Nothing is rushed here.
And the wall is not going anywhere.
Continue like this.
One by one.
Until the last one.
As you go,
Your forearms rise by themselves.
Air passes between your elbows and your ribs.
And it is cool.
This wall was built to receive stones.
And it has received thousands.
When your arms are free.
Feel your shoulders dropping.
One notch.
Than another.
Then notice what has remained with you.
The bond was not in the slates.
It weighs nothing.
And it goes with you.
Take up the path again.
And leave the wall behind you with what it now carries.
Path rises in a very gentle slope.
Drop falls from a leaf and touches your neck.
You are not thinking about anything in particular.
And then you realize that you are walking as too.
There is a step on your left.
It makes almost no sound.
Or rather.
Just enough.
A rhythm that settles in with yours.
When you slow down.
It slows.
When you start again.
It starts again.
Try it.
Just to see.
Lengthen your stride.
The step lengthens with you.
And on that side.
Your arm is warmer than the other.
Just enough to recognize it.
The warmth you feel when someone is walking very close.
Do not turn around.
You have nothing to check here.
Keep going.
Two steps.
Than ten.
Been 50.
Side by side in the blue light.
Your body knows this way of walking.
The hedges draw closer.
And the scent grows stronger here.
Without slowing down.
Turn your head toward the hedge and look very closely.
On a low leaf,
A drop of water still hangs.
It trembles as you approach.
And it holds on.
Lean in.
The smell that rises from there.
You recognize it before you can name it.
It belonged to this person.
A piece of fabric.
A kitchen.
Their hair.
It is there.
Intact.
Breathe it in a second time.
More slowly.
Straighten up and walk on.
The step on the left sets off again with you.
A little further on.
Two branches cross.
The knot they form has the shape of a gesture.
Their way of holding a cup.
Or of laying a hand on a shoulder in passing.
Raise your hand and repeat it there.
In the cold air.
Your hands know it by heart.
And they do it again.
Walk on.
The wind passes through the high branches.
And in the rustling of the leaves.
There is a word.
Spoken in a certain way.
With that particular accent.
You may still use it.
And no one around you knows where it came from.
The bond is there.
Innocent.
In a gesture.
In a way of saying a word.
It has been moving through you for years.
Meanwhile,
A robin has perched on the hedge.
The height of your shoulder.
It is round with an orange throat.
And it looks at you sideways.
It comes close to the gardener as soon as the earth is turned.
And it comes to the windowsills of the houses where someone is missing.
It stays.
Lift your eyes toward the end of the path.
Where the hedges open out.
The sky there is ready.
Color is rising behind the fields.
The sun is waiting below the line.
But it does not rise.
It takes its time as if the dawn were waiting for someone.
It is waiting for someone in fact.
In this light.
A year from now.
You will still be walking here.
Watch how that body walks.
The shoulders are low and broad.
The breath sinks down to the bottom of the ribs and rises on its own.
The left hand is open along the body.
Look at the face at the exact second when the first name crosses the mind.
The corners of the eyes crease first.
The jaw stays loose.
The stride keeps its length.
And listen to this person walking.
He speaks softly.
Just a few words.
He laughs once.
At something no one else could understand.
Then he goes on.
And the dawn goes on waiting.
And know that that year began tonight.
Under your feet.
Let this image fade.
Let the visualization go.
The Robin for his part.
Goes on with his rounds.
He has his habits.
He lands on the wall.
The slates you left there are already absorbed into the stone.
Moss has grown over them.
And you would have to search a long time to find them.
He taps one with his beak for form's sake.
Then he flies off.
The wall itself has lengthened by one stone during the night.
It accepts one each time someone passes this way.
He perches on a hedge branch that now grows between your window and the foot of your bed.
Heavy with white blossoms.
This does not surprise him.
He saw the same thing yesterday.
The two fields while you were walking.
Have swapped places.
No one noticed.
Except maybe the wheat.
Which found the journey pleasant.
The hedges decided to give everything the same night.
Hawthorne.
Elder.
Wild Rose.
And honeysuckle together.
The scent becomes so thick that it can hold the weight of a bird.
It perches in the very middle of the air.
It stays there for a moment.
Then it comes down again.
The dawn itself does not rise.
It was meant to last 20 minutes.
And it goes on.
The morning waits behind the hedge.
For as long as it takes.
The blue for its part.
Adjusts to the length of your sleep.
It looks at nothing else.
And this blue has thickness.
It is warm.
It rises along the bed.
It reaches your hips.
Than your shoulders.
Than your chin.
It carries you the way warm water would carry someone who has stopped swimming.
It settles at the edge of your pillow.
It turns its head one way,
Then the other.
Somewhere on your left,
A step is still moving in time with your breathing.
The bird does not even react.
Here it is like this every night.
And it would take much more than that to surprise him.
Very far ahead.
The first bird starts its phrase again.
It will start again until morning at the same distance.
On the same side with the same patience.
Here,
Nothing closes.
But returns will return again.
The robin folds one leg under himself.
Tucks his head into his feathers.
And settles for the night at your height.
He will still be there when the light finally decides to change.
Which will not be for a very long time.
And if you are not yet asleep.
Please repeat the following positive affirmations until you find sleep.
Your unconscious will then take over.
I feel deeply connected to this person.
In a different way.
My love still flows within me.
With gentleness and serenity.
Peace.
I fully acknowledge all that this relationship has given me.
Each night.
My body learns the feeling of a peaceful presence.
I am building a calm relationship with this memory.
I leave others to their own words about what I am going through.
I choose a story made of tenderness and continuity.
I feel free to love still in my own way.
Me.
Their gestures and their words still live through me.
I trust my natural ability to carry this love.
I look at this bond with clarity.
Calm and tenderness.
I feel supported by this presence and by life.
Each day my inner peace grows deeper.
I deserve a life that is gentle.
Vibrant and meaningful.
I receive with gratitude all that this person has passed on to me.
You I move forward with confidence from a peaceful inner space.
What I have lived.
Finds its rightful place within me again.
I keep all that matters.
And I go on moving forward.
I am transforming this bond into strength.
Gentleness and living memory.
I feel free to smile when I think back to us.
My love can be simple.
Natural and peaceful.
My tenderness grows with steadiness and depth.
I make my decisions from a place of calm.
My chest stays soft when their first name returns to me.
I trust my ability to move through every stage of my life.
I allow myself to fully savor the joy that is returning.
I let gentleness take deep root within me.
During my sleep.
My unconscious soothes and protects this bond.
I fall asleep.
And the deep certainty.
That this love endures.
I feel deeply connected to this person.
In a different way.
My love still flows within me.
With gentleness and serenity.
I fully acknowledge all that this relationship has given me.
Each night.
My body learns the feeling of a peaceful presence.
I am building a calm relationship with this memory.
I leave others to their own words about what I am going through.
I choose a story made of tenderness and continuity.
I feel free to love still in my own way.
Their gestures and their words still live through me.
I trust my natural ability to carry this love.
I look at this bond with clarity.
Calm and tenderness.
I feel supported by this presence and by life.
Each day my inner peace grows deeper.
I deserve a life that is gentle.
Vibrant and meaningful.
I receive with gratitude all that this person has passed on to me.
I move forward with confidence from a peaceful inner space.
What I have lived.
Finds its rightful place within me again.
I keep all that matters.
And I go on moving forward.
I am transforming this bond into strength.
Gentleness and living memory.
I feel free to smile when I think back to us.
My love can be simple.
Natural and peaceful.
My tenderness grows with steadiness and depth.
I make my decisions from a place of calm.
My chest stays soft when their first name returns to me.
I trust my ability to move through every stage of my life.
I allow myself to fully savor the joy that is returning.
I let gentleness take deep root within me.
During my sleep.
My unconscious soothes and protects this bond.
I fall asleep.
And the deep certainty.
That this love endures.
I feel deeply connected to this person.
In a different way.
My love still flows within me.
With gentleness and serenity.
I fully acknowledge all that this relationship has given me.
Each night.
My body learns the feeling of a peaceful presence.
I am building a calm relationship with this memory.
I leave others to their own words about what I am going through.
I choose a story made of tenderness and continuity.
I feel free to love still in my own way.
Their gestures and their words still live through me.
I trust my natural ability to carry this love.
I look at this bond with clarity.
Calm and tenderness.
I feel supported by this presence and by life.
Each day my inner peace grows deeper.
I deserve a life that is gentle.
Vibrant and meaningful.
I receive with gratitude all that this person has passed on to me.
I move forward with confidence from a peaceful inner space.
What I have lived.
Finds its rightful place within me again.
I keep all that matters.
And I go on moving forward.
I am transforming this bond into strength.
Gentleness and living memory.
I feel free to smile when I think back to us.
My love can be simple.
Natural and peaceful.
My tenderness grows with steadiness and depth.
I make my decisions from a place of calm.
My chest stays soft when their first name returns to me.
I trust my ability to move through every stage of my life.
I allow myself to fully savor the joy that is returning.
I let gentleness take deep root within me.
During my sleep.
My unconscious soothes and protects this bond.
I fall asleep.
And the deep certainty.
That this love endures.
I feel deeply connected to this person.
In a different way.
My love still flows within me.
With gentleness and serenity.
I fully acknowledge all that this relationship has given me.
Each night.
My body learns the feeling of a peaceful presence.
I am building a calm relationship with this memory.
I leave others to their own words about what I am going through.
I choose a story made of tenderness and continuity.
I feel free to love still in my own way.
Their gestures and their words still live through me.
I trust my natural ability to carry this love.
I look at this bond with clarity.
Calm and tenderness.
I feel supported by this presence and by life.
Each day my inner peace grows deeper.
I deserve a life that is gentle.
Vibrant and meaningful.
I receive with gratitude all that this person has passed on to me.
I move forward with confidence from a peaceful inner space.
What I have lived finds its rightful place within me again.
I keep all that matters.
And I go on moving forward.
I am transforming this bond into strength.
Gentleness and living memory.
I feel free to smile when I think back to us.
My love can be simple.
Natural and peaceful.
My tenderness grows with steadiness and depth.
I make my decisions from a place of calm.
My chest stays soft when their first name returns to me.
I trust my ability to move through every stage of my life.
I allow myself to fully savor the joy that is returning.
I let gentleness take deep root within me.
During my sleep.
My unconscious soothes and protects this bond.
I fall asleep.
And the deep certainty.
That this love endures.
Peace.
You you Peace.
You
