Welcome,
Dear dreamer.
Tonight's somatic healing,
Yoga nidra practice,
Is here to gently support vagus nerve regulation.
Inviting the body to release the residue of the day.
And drift toward deep sleep.
Through breath.
Stillness.
And the quiet intelligence of embodied awareness.
There is an old story of a young student who once asked why the lotus was considered sacred when it grew from the mud.
His teacher brought him to a dark pond just before dawn one day.
There,
The lotus was still closed.
Rooted far below the surface.
Hidden in the black water and earth.
Then the sun began to rise.
Slowly,
Without struggle,
The flower opened.
It did not reject the mud,
The teacher said.
It rises through it.
And the student understood.
What we have lived through does not have to keep us buried.
With time,
Warmth,
And stillness.
Even the darkest waters can become the place from which something beautiful opens.
Tonight,
We return to that gentle opening.
Not by pushing anything away.
But by allowing the body to feel safe enough to soften.
This is a place to settle.
A place to come back into contact with yourself.
A place to remember that healing does not always happen through effort.
Sometimes it happens through rest.
Through breath,
Touch,
And quiet awareness.
This practice invites your nervous system to step out of bracing and into a deeper sense of support and as the body begins to feel safe.
Sleep can come closer on its own.
Softly.
Naturally.
Without being forced.
So now,
Let yourself become comfortable.
Allow the surface beneath you to receive the full weight of your body.
Let the back of the head rest.
Let the shoulders loosen.
Let the belly soften in its own time.
There is nowhere else you need to be.
When you're ready,
Place one hand over your heart and one hand over your belly.
Feel the warmth of your own touch.
Feel the simple reassurance of your hands resting here The heart beneath one palm the breath beneath the other.
This is somatic healing in its simplest form.
Returning to the body.
Listening through sensation.
Letting the breath become a bridge back to safety.
Take a slow inhale through the nose.
And exhale gently through the mouth.
Again,
Breathing in softly.
And breathing out a little longer.
One more time.
Inhale with ease.
And exhale as though the whole body is being invited to unclench.
Now,
Allow the breath to move naturally.
Let the inhale be simple.
Let the exhale be longer.
Breathing in.
Feeling the chest and belly rise.
Beneath your hands Breathing out Feeling the body sink a little more deeply.
And to support.
And again,
A gentle inhale.
And a slow,
Steady exhale.
Let the longer exhale become a quiet signal to the vagus nerve.
A message from the body to the mind You're safe enough now.
You can soften now.
You can rest now.
Breathing in.
.
.
Receiving steadiness.
Breathing out.
Releasing the need to hold.
Breathing in.
Feeling the warmth of your hands.
Breathing out.
Letting the belly loosen.
Just as the lotus opens in its own time.
Your body can open in its own time.
Nothing needs to be rushed.
Nothing needs to be forced.
Rest knows the way.
And now,
Before we go deeper.
.
.
Quietly set your sankalpa.
Your heart-centered intention for this practice.
You might repeat silently.
I am safe in my body.
I soften into healing rest.
Sleep comes gently and easily.
Again,
I am safe in my body.
I soften into healing rest.
Sleep comes gently and easily.
One final time,
Softly within.
I am safe in my body.
I soften into healing rest.
Sleep comes gently and easily.
Let those words settle into the body.
Like seeds in warm earth.
In a few moments,
We will begin moving through the body with awareness.
Allowing each part of you to be noticed.
Softened and released.
So take one more slow breath in.
And a long,
Gentle breath out.
Let your hands rest wherever they feel most comfortable.
And now,
We begin.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rude.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
And now,
Gently bring your awareness into the center of your chest.
Not forcing anything.
Not trying to feel anything in particular Simply allow your attention to rest.
In the space of the heart.
As though your awareness could gather there softly.
Like a small flame glowing in the quiet.
And let the breath begin to slow.
Breathing in gently.
And breathing out slowly.
And as you continue to breathe Imagine that each breath is moving directly through the heart.
Breathing in through the heart.
Breathing out through the heart.
Softly in.
And softly out.
Allow the heart to become a doorway.
A doorway into stillness.
A doorway into trust.
A doorway into the deeper intelligence of life itself.
And with each breath,
Feel the body beginning to understand that this moment is safe.
The mind does not need to search.
The body does not need to hold.
The heart does not need to protect itself from this moment.
For now,
There is only breath.
Only the heart.
Only this quiet return to yourself.
Breathing in through the heart.
Breathing out through the heart.
And now,
Begin to invite the feeling of gratitude.
Not as a thought.
Not as something you have to explain but as a warmth.
A gentle emotional frequency in the heart.
Perhaps gratitude for this breath.
Gratitude for this body.
Gratitude for being held by the universe.
Gratitude for the infinite abundance.
Of the universe.
With its infinite stars and infinite planets in the cosmos.
With its infinite variety of life and expression.
Infinite beauty.
And the realization that we are a creation of this infinite universe.
We are not just of this universe.
We are literally the universe in motion.
Embodied.
We are literally the universe itself.
And therefore,
We are infinite abundance itself.
And in this realization,
We can express it each and every moment.
And hold gratitude for it.
Each and every moment Let this feeling of gratitude expand from your heart space.
To feel.
Your whole body.
Healing you.
Returning to wholeness.
A radiant glow in the heart.
A soft inner yes.
And as this feeling begins to awaken,
Allow it to expand.
Let the heart begin to feel the life you are calling into being.
Not as something far away.
Not as something you must chase.
But as a living presence.
Already beginning to bloom.
Within you.
Feel the essence of that life now.
A piece of it.
The vitality of it.
The abundance of it.
The freedom of it.
The love of it.
The inspiration of it.
As though some deeper part of you already knows the way.
Because the universe is not separate from you.
But moving through you.
Breathing through you.
Dreaming through you.
And now,
Allow this feeling to begin spreading.
Through the body.
From the heart.
Let it flow gently into the shoulders.
Softening the shoulders.
Releasing the weight you have carried.
Let gratitude move down through the arms.
Into the elbows.
The forearms,
The wrists,
The palms of the hands.
All the way into the fingers.
As though your hands are becoming open to receive infinite abundance.
Open to create open to bless the life unfolding before you Now,
Let this feeling spread.
From your heart.
Into the throat.
Softening the throat Opening the voice releasing any unspoken Words that no longer needs to be held.
Let the throat become clear and spacious.
A channel for truth.
A channel for love.
A channel for inspired expression.
Now,
Allow this warmth to rise into the face.
Softening the jaw.
The cheeks,
The eyes.
In the forehead.
Let the muscles around the eyes release.
And let the space behind the eyes become quiet.
As though the mind is floating now.
Resting.
In the glow of the heart.
And let this feeling move upward.
Gently surrounding the crown of the head.
As though your whole being is opening to a higher intelligence.
A loving intelligence.
And infinite intelligence.
The same intelligence that moves the stars.
Opens the flowers.
Heals the body.
And guides the breath.
Now let this feeling pour down from the heart into the belly.
Softening the stomach Relaxing the abdomen.
Letting the belly receive this message of safety You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to receive.
You are allowed to live from trust Let the warmth move into the hips and pelvis.
Softening the deep center of the body.
Releasing tension from the places where old fear old efforts.
And old survival may have been stored.
Let this area become spacious.
Grounded.
Support it.
Now,
Allow the feeling to move down through the thighs.
The knees,
The curves.
The ankles.
The feet.
All the way down to the toes.
And now the whole body is breathing.
With the heart.
The whole body is listening to the heart.
The whole body is becoming one with a field of gratitude.
Abundance.
Healing.
And quiet possibility Rest here for a moment Feeling the body as though it is already living in harmony.
With the life you are calling in.
A body that knows peace.
A mind that trusts life.
A heart that is open to receive.
And now,
Silently or gently within,
Allow an intention to arise.
Something simple.
Something true.
Perhaps.
I am open to the most abundant.
Healing.
Inspired expression of my life.
I allow my heart and mind to come into harmony.
I embody the feeling.
Of the life my soul is ready to live.
Let this intention settle into the body.
Not as a demand.
Not as a pressure.
But as a seed.
A sacred seed.
Placed into the fertile soil of the subconscious mind.
And as this seed is planted,
There is nothing more you need to do.
Nothing to force.
Nothing to figure out nothing to hold together.
Let the breath become natural now.
Let the body become heavy.
And let the heart remain open.
And effortless.
And begin to release even the meditation itself.
Release the need to visualize.
Release the need to manifest release the need to become.
Simply rest.
And awareness.
Open.
Quiet.
Spacious.
Let the body dissolve into the surface beneath you.
Let the mind dissolve into silence.
Let the heart dissolve.
Into the infinite field of life.
There is only space now.
Soft endless space breath moving by itself.
Life moving by itself the universe breathing you gently into rest.
And in this spaciousness.
You do not need to reach for anything.
The feeling is already here.
The seed already planted.
The heart already knows.
So allow yourself to drift.
Deeper into stillness deeper into openness.
Deeper into the quiet luminous space.
Where all things are possible.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted in.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
And something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Ruined it.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you.
Until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rude.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
Then light touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you.
Until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the worms.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rude.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening,
Because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rude.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rude.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
Then light touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising.
Through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rude.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you.
Until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you.
Until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
The quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
Petal by petal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you until you were ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
The lotus opens quietly.
Not by Fighting the dark.
Not by fleeing the mud.
But by rising.
Toward the warmth.
That has been calling all along.
Beneath the surface,
There is water.
Soft Earth.
Hidden Roots.
The long silence before morning.
And still.
Something beautiful is growing there.
A flower folded in the darkness.
A stem reaching through the depths.
A quiet life.
Trusting the unseen way upward.
The pond is still before dawn.
The world holds its breath.
The lotus waits without hurry.
The night touches the water.
Slowly.
.
.
Pedal by pedal.
The flower opens.
And within you too.
There is a lotus like this.
Rooted.
In all you have lived.
Rising through all you have carried.
Opening because the time has come.
The mud was part of the path.
The darkness held the roots.
The still water carried you.
Until you are ready for the sun.
So rest here now.
In the quiet before blooming.
And the warmth returning.
In the soft unfolding.
Of what has always been alive within you.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing ruined.
Nothing outside the sacred.
Only this rising.
Only this opening.
Only this lotus remembering the light.
