This morning,
Before you open your phone,
Your plans or your mind to the world,
You step into a quieter moment,
A small doorway of stillness.
You imagine yourself just waking,
Not in a bed but in a quiet cabin,
The kind tucked at the edge of a forest where fog still hangs low and the air is cool with promise.
You rise,
Wrap yourself in a soft robe and open the creaky wooden door.
The earth is dewy beneath your feet and the sky is colourful and vibrant.
And in your hand,
You hold a compass,
Not one of metal or magnet,
But something ancient and something alive in your palm,
Your intuition.
You take a slow,
Gentle breath in through your nose and allow the fresh morning air to enter your lungs,
Let it settle and exhale softly through your mouth.
Again,
Inhale clarity and exhale noise.
And once more,
Inhale trust and exhale fear.
This compass doesn't point north,
It doesn't follow logic,
It responds to something quieter,
Something truer.
It pulses when you're close to your truth,
It softens when you stray too far,
It never shouts,
It never begs,
It just knows.
As you step out from the cabin and begin walking,
You notice that with each step,
You let go of the need to figure everything out.
You surrender to feel your way instead.
The compass grows warmer in your hand because you're heading in the right direction,
Following your heart.
You take another breath and imagine it travelling down from your nose into your chest and then deeper,
Right into the centre of your being,
And exhale like fog lifting from morning fields.
As you walk further,
The trees open to a meadow,
A light spills across your skin.
You pause and close your eyes,
And then from deeper within you,
A voice arises.
It doesn't come from your head,
It comes from your bones,
Your belly,
Your heart.
The voice says,
You know more than you think,
You don't need every step,
Just the next one.
You place a hand on your heart and another on your belly,
And you listen.
You ask silently,
What do I know,
Deep down,
And as you do so,
You just wait and trust the stillness.
You let whatever arises come without judgement.
This may be nothing,
It may be just peace,
It may be a word or a feeling or a quiet sense,
Whatever shows up is enough.
Your heart is always whispering,
Giving you guidance,
The answers are in the silence.
Now the light has fully risen in your meadow.
You turn slowly,
Beginning your walk back to the little cabin,
But something has changed.
You haven't just visited your centre,
You've reconnected with your guide,
The part of you that always knows.
And though the day ahead may ask much of you,
You'll move through it with a deeper trust,
Because you've remembered where your true direction comes from.
It's not outside of you,
It never was.
