Hello beautiful soul,
Now it's time to rest,
You are safe now.
Take a deep breath in,
Let it rise like a soft wave inside your chest and now let it go,
Let it wash away the day.
This is a story,
A quiet story,
About a small river that didn't know where it was going.
It began as just a trickle,
A few drops of clever water,
Running down the side of a high mountain.
The river's name was Anja,
Which means grace.
At first,
Anja was playful.
She sang over stones and leapt over roots,
Dancing through pine trees and glowing moths.
Birds flew above her,
Little deer came to drink from her waters.
Anja felt free,
She felt alive.
But as days passed,
Anja grew bigger,
Stronger,
Whiter.
And that's when she began to wonder,
Where am I going?
She asked the rocks,
But they were silent,
She asked the trees,
But they only whispered.
She tried to slow down,
But the mountain pulled her forward,
So she kept moving.
One evening,
As the stars opened their eyes,
Anja passed through a quiet valley,
Where an old turtle sat beside her.
He was still,
So still he almost looked like a stone.
Where are you going in such a rush?
He asked with a smile.
I don't know,
Said Anja,
But I have to keep flowing,
Something is pulling me.
The turtle blinked slowly.
Not everything that pulls you is dangerous,
He said,
Sometimes it's the call of something greater than yourself.
Anja didn't understand,
But she liked the sound of his voice.
She flowed past,
But his words stayed with her,
Like soft ripples inside her.
Days passed,
The mountains faded behind her,
The land grew flatter,
The skies opened wide.
But Anja became restless,
She missed the comfort of the forest,
She missed the silence.
Now there were boats on her back,
Bridges crossed her,
And the wind carried strong noises.
She began to fear what lay ahead.
Then,
One night,
A soft mist rose around her,
And through the mist came a quiet figure,
An old monk standing by her bank,
His robe like a cloud.
He held a small lamp,
Its flame flickered gently.
He did not speak,
But he bowed,
And simply sat beside her,
Listening.
Anja slowed down,
She felt seen,
She felt safe.
After a long silence,
The monk finally said,
River,
Do you trust your flow?
Anja passed,
Her waters stilled.
I don't know,
She whispered,
I've always moved forward,
But now I'm afraid.
The monk smiled gently.
Do not fear the ocean,
Little one.
It is not the end of you,
It is the return of you.
Those words echoed deeply inside her.
Not the end,
The return.
Anja kept flowing,
But something inside her had shifted.
She didn't fight her current anymore,
She allowed herself to stretch wider,
To become quieter,
To feel everything.
And then,
One golden morning,
She reached the edge of the world.
The river met the sea,
Anja felt salt,
Felt the waves,
Felt the vastness,
And she stopped for a moment.
She did not know who she was.
And then,
A softness took her.
The sea embraced her,
And she understood.
She was still herself,
But she was also everything else.
She had not disappeared,
She had simply become.
The sea whispered,
You are home.
And Anja,
Now part of the ocean,
Rested.
She no longer needed to know where she was going,
Because now she was still,
Vast,
Free.
Take a deep breath,
Like the river.
Let it come,
Let it go.
You are not lost.
You are returning,
Always returning,
To the truth inside you.
Sleep now.
Let the current carry you.
You are safe.
You are home.
