Tonight,
As you settle into the quiet of your room,
You're invited to return to the warm center of your chest and rest in the truth that's always been waiting there all along.
This is your return to the heart,
The place that's held your worth all along.
My name is Jacob,
And I'm here to tell you,
You've done enough for today.
Truly,
It is enough.
You don't have to deal with anything else tonight.
There's nothing else to do,
Be fixed,
Or held together.
Just breathe for a moment,
Settle a little,
And let your body notice that it's ok to relax.
We'll begin with a few slow breaths just to calm your nervous system and loosen the weight you've been carrying.
Then we'll gently return to that warm place in your chest,
The place that's always been waiting for you,
The place where the tired parts of you finally get to rest.
Let's begin with the breath.
Take a slow,
Easy breath in through your nose,
And let it fall out gently as your body begins to settle a little deeper into where you are tonight.
Feel your shoulders soften,
Your ribs expanding,
The whole front of your body easing open as you invite just a little more space inside.
Let the next breath come in smoothly,
Steady and unforced,
And let it roll out in a long,
Quiet exhale that tells your body it no longer has to stay alert.
Notice the small releases,
Such as the jaw loosening,
The belly softening,
The subtle warmth spreading across your chest.
These are signs that your body feels the safety you're offering it.
Stay with that easy rhythm,
Soft,
Slow,
Steady,
And notice how even a few breaths can create more room inside you than you felt all day.
As your breath settles,
Notice the quiet space opening inside you,
The space where a part of you has been carrying so much for so long.
You don't need to look for it,
Simply feel the presence of something tender,
Something tired,
Something that has waited patiently for you to slow down enough to hear it.
There's a quiet bravery in letting this part come forward,
In no longer turning away or distracting yourself from its weight.
You're not here to fix it,
You're here to meet it,
Gently,
Honestly,
With the kind of attention you deserved long before now.
Let your awareness drift toward the warmth in your chest,
And feel how that part responds to being noticed.
That simple acknowledgement,
I'm here with you,
Softens what years of pushing away could not.
This part of you has never needed perfection,
It's only ever needed your presence.
Take a slow inhale,
Letting the breath travel toward the place that feels the tightest.
The place where old stories,
Old fears,
And old memories live.
Let the breath meet that space like warm sunlight touching something cold,
Not to break it open,
But to soften its edges a bit.
And as you exhale,
Imagine that tension melting just a little,
Like metal warming near a flame,
Not disappearing,
Just yielding.
Remembering it doesn't have to stay rigid forever.
One more gentle breath like that,
Warmth flowing inward,
Heaviness flowing out.
The intelligence of your body knows how to release,
Even in small,
Quiet ways.
Let it.
Bring your awareness back to the warm glow in the center of your chest.
This is the home inside you,
The place that has held your truth,
Your softness,
And your strength through every season of your life.
Even when you felt disconnected from it,
This warmth never dimmed.
It simply waited.
Let that warmth grow with each breath,
Rising gently like light at dawn.
There's no effort here,
No reaching,
Just a natural remembering of who you are.
Your heart doesn't ask you to be anything other than present.
It opens in its own timing,
Welcoming every part of you home.
This is your return.
It's where you belong,
And this space will always welcome you back.
As you rest here,
Sense the presence of the part of you that has carried so much.
It might not be an image,
But just a feeling.
A quiet awareness of its tiredness and longing to be seen.
Focus your breath toward it with a steady warmth.
Let it feel the truth rising from your heart.
You're safe now.
You don't have to keep carrying all of this.
I'm here,
And you are worthy of love,
Rest,
And belonging exactly as you are.
Let that message settle into your chest.
Into your shoulders.
Into every place that has been holding tension.
Imagine this tender part leaning just a little closer.
Trusting just a little more.
Feeling something it hasn't felt in a long time.
You are worthy of this place.
You always have been.
And your worth has never been up for negotiation.
Not with others,
And not with yourself.
There's an old story told in a small mountain village.
A story simple enough that people often overlook its wisdom.
The elders spoke of a man known as the stone listener.
Someone who spent his days sitting beside a quiet river.
That wound through the valley.
People came to him not for answers,
But because he had a way of helping them hear their own hearts again.
Whenever someone arrived carrying sorrow,
Or shame,
Or the feeling of not being enough,
The stone listener would hand them a smooth river stone,
Worn down by years of water and time,
And ask them to hold it against their chest.
Stones don't judge,
He would say.
They only witness.
People would sit beside him,
Holding the stone,
Breathing slowly,
Feeling its cool weight against their skin.
And somehow,
The simple act of pausing,
Of letting something steady rest on the place that hurt the most,
Would bring a kind of softening.
The tension in their shoulders would ease.
Their breath would deepen.
Tears would come sometimes.
Quiet,
Honest tears that no one apologized for.
The stone listener never spoke much.
He believed the heart reveals its truth when given enough stillness.
And over time,
The villagers realized something remarkable.
Every person who visited him walked away with a lighter step.
As if a knot inside them had loosened.
As if holding that stone helped them feel the weight they could finally set down.
The story says that when the stone listener grew old,
He left one final message carved into a piece of driftwood.
By the riverbank.
What you carry is real.
But not all of it belongs to you.
Let the heart tell you what to keep.
Tonight,
As you rest your hand on your chest,
Imagine that same gentle presence sitting down beside you,
Reminding you that your heart still knows how to let go and how to return to itself.
Let the warmth in your chest drift outward,
Spreading slowly through your arms,
Your ribs,
Your belly,
Your legs.
Let every breath carry that warmth deeper into your body,
Smoothing the edges of everything you held today.
There is nothing left to hold tonight.
Nothing left to manage or fix.
Your heart is open and your body is soft.
The part of you that once carried the heaviest load is finally resting.
Remember this as you drift.
Your heart has never stopped loving you.
Not once.
Even in the moments when you drifted from yourself.
Even in the seasons when everything felt distant or foggy,
It stayed with you.
Quiet,
Steady,
And loyal.
Think of your heart as a cottage with a soft golden light glowing in the window.
No matter where you've been or how long you've been away,
That light never went out.
And it always knew you'd return.
And tonight,
You have.
You're stepping inside,
Settling into its warmth.
You're letting yourself be held by the deepest truth you carry.
You are safe.
You are loved.
And you are enough.
Let your breath drift into its own rhythm now.
Let your thoughts grow a little softer.
And the warmth in your chest guide you the rest of the way down.
You can rest now.
You're home.
Good night,
My dear friend.
Good night.
