Find a position that feels supportive for you right now.
Settle in and soften where you can while staying present and alert.
You're welcome to let your eyes close or soften your gaze.
Take one gentle breath in and let the breath out be slow and easy.
Let the body settle into whatever is holding you,
Noticing the solid support beneath you.
Notice that you are here.
That alone is enough for this moment of kindness.
I'll invite you to notice any part of you that feels tender,
Tired,
Or tight today.
Not the story,
Just the felt sense of it in your mind or your body.
You don't need to explain it.
You don't need to make sense of it.
Just notice where it lives in your body and silently acknowledge something here needs care.
If a critical voice arises saying you should be further along,
This shouldn't feel this hard,
Notice it like a cloud passing through.
You don't need to argue.
You don't need to silence it.
Just acknowledge it and let it drift.
On your next breath in,
Imagine inviting a quality of care to your breath.
A gentle willingness to meet yourself with kindness.
When you inhale,
Imagine making a little more room inside.
Not to change what's there,
To allow it.
And as you exhale,
Letting that kindness move towards the part of you that aches.
You're welcome to offer yourself simple phrases to be present with what is.
I'm allowed to be human.
I can meet myself with kindness.
I don't have to earn rest.
If kindness feels faint,
Awkward,
Or uneasy,
That's okay.
Let it be small.
Let it be imperfect.
Even the attempt to soften,
A willingness to pause,
Is a form of care.
Once again,
You may repeat those words of kindness.
I'm allowed to be human.
I can meet myself with kindness.
I don't have to earn rest.
And take one more breath in,
And a long releasing breath out.
When you're ready,
Bring gentle awareness back to your body.
The contact with the surface beneath you.
The space around you.
You can return to this kindness,
Not to be better,
But to remember you are already worthy of care.
