Welcome.
Find a position that feels supported,
Laying down or seated,
Where your body can settle without effort.
Let your attention arrive to simple things.
The weight of your body,
The quiet shape of your breath,
The surface beneath you.
Feel the places where your body meets support,
Back,
Hips,
Leg,
Shoulders.
Let these points widen as if the ground were gently welcoming you.
You don't need to make anything happen,
There's nothing to achieve here.
Only permission to be exactly as you are.
Notice how your back settles into the earth like the roots of an ancient tree.
If there's any place that wants a little more softness,
Allow it.
Not by doing,
But by letting the ground carry a little more of you.
Sense the temperature of the air at your nostrils as you breathe in,
And the subtle warmth as you breathe out,
Natural,
Unforced.
If thoughts move in and out,
Let them pass like birds crossing a wide sky.
Feel the width of your body from left to right,
The length from head to feet,
The quiet depth from front to back,
As if your whole body were a gentle landscape,
Spacious,
Alive,
And safe.
Somewhere inside the ease,
Notice the first hint of relief,
The nervous system recognizing it is safe to rest.
If a small wave of tension shows itself,
That's the body exhaling old vigilance.
Let the next out-breath be just a little longer than the in-breath,
Without counting.
Nothing is urgent here.
Time moves at the pace of your breath.
The ground is steady.
You are held.
When you are ready,
Allow your attention to widen.
Include the sense of space around your body,
Like a soft room embracing you,
And in that embrace,
Feel the simple truth returning,
You are here,
You are safe,
You are allowed to rest.
From this place of ease,
Notice how your attention begins to turn,
Not by effort,
But by invitation.
As the outer world grows quieter,
Something inside you becomes gently luminous,
A subtle shift like stepping from sunlight into cool shade.
Let the senses soften,
Sound becomes distance,
Light becomes softness,
Thoughts become ripples across still water.
You are not leaving anything behind,
You are simply turning toward what has always been here.
If the mind tries to follow,
Let it rest beside you,
An old friend taking a seat at the edge of a garden.
There is no need to control it.
Feel how your breath naturally slows,
Inhale a quiet gathering,
Exhale a quiet release.
With each cycle,
Attention flows inward like a stream finding its source.
You can feel the current of yourself moving toward stillness.
Let this gentle turning feel familiar,
A return rather than a departure,
The body remembers the way.
As you rest here between outer and inner,
Between sound and silence,
Notice how peaceful the in-between can be.
Begin to notice the rhythm of your breath,
The gentle rise and the fall.
No need to change it,
Simply feel it moving through you.
Let your breathing slow a little,
Inhale to a soft count of 4,
2,
3,
4,
Exhale to 6,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6.
Each breath smooth,
Unhurried,
Like a tide that knows exactly where to go.
If it feels natural,
Imagine breathing through your heart as though air moves in and out through the center of your chest.
Warm,
Entering every inhale,
Ease flowing out with every exhale.
With each breath,
The body and mind begin to speak the same quiet language.
You may feel a soft expansion in the chest or a melting behind the heart.
Let the warmth spread through the ribs,
The shoulders,
The arms.
Feel it moving downward through the belly,
The hips,
The legs,
Until the whole body breathes together.
Everything inside you moving in one gentle rhythm,
The breath,
The heartbeat,
The stillness,
And in the center of it all,
A quiet pulse of life.
This is the chamber of your own stillness,
A place where calm isn't created,
It's remembered.
Stay here for a few more breaths,
Resting in this felt sense of unity.
Now,
Allow this quiet center to open,
Revealing your inner sanctuary.
From this stillness,
Sense a quiet invitation rising within you.
Before you,
A soft glow appears,
Not bright or blinding,
Gentle,
Steady,
Alive.
Let it draw you forward,
As if each breath brings you closer.
You find yourself standing at the entrance of your inner sanctuary.
A garden lives here inside you,
Open to the sky,
Embraced by stone walls that feel ancient and kind.
Light filters through the leaves,
Water whispers somewhere nearby.
You step inside,
The air is calm,
Fragrant with life.
Every color,
Every sound seems to breathe with you.
In the center stands a quiet temple,
Its doorway glows with golden light.
Each step you take feels like a heartbeat.
As you move closer,
Notice what peace feels like in your body.
Where do you sense it most?
In the chest?
The hands?
The face?
You enter the temple.
It is simple,
Luminous,
Walls covered in living vines and light.
At its center,
A small flame rests in a bowl of water.
Sit before this flame,
Let it mirror your own steady glow.
With every inhale,
The flame brightens.
With every exhale,
It softens,
Never fading,
Only breathing with you.
This is your sanctuary,
Not a place you visit,
But a space that has always lived within you.
Here,
The nervous system remembers its language of trust.
Here,
The soul remembers its home.
Feel the light expanding through the chest,
The shoulders,
The face,
Until it fills the whole garden.
The walls seem to dissolve into the sky,
The air shimmers with quiet belonging.
Know that you can return to this temple garden instantly,
Any time you need to feel held.
Now,
Stay here for a few more breaths,
Nothing to hold,
Nothing to fix,
Only light,
You,
And peace.
Slowly let your awareness return to your breath.
Feel the gentle rhythm that has been here all along.
With every inhale,
You draw the light of your sanctuary into your body.
With every exhale,
You let it settle deeper into muscle,
Bone,
And heart.
Notice how peaceful the body feels,
How calm the breath has become,
How quiet the mind is now.
Place a hand over your chest for a moment.
Feel the warmth of that contact,
A reminder that your sanctuary lives here.
This peace isn't fragile,
It moves with you.
You can return to this inner garden at any time.
A single slow breath,
And you'll remember.
Let the calm from your center extend now,
Gently and slowly,
From your heart down to your hands and feet,
From your heart up to your shoulders and face.
Begin to notice the weight of your body again,
The ground beneath you,
The space around you.
Take one last full breath in,
And exhale completely.
Carry this calm with you,
Not as a memory,
But as your natural state.
And when you're ready,
Slowly open your eyes,
Or drift off into night.
And remember,
No matter where you go,
This sanctuary will always be with you.
