Lay your body down to rest.
And whatever holds you,
Imagine that it could really hold you.
Whatever is beneath you,
Molded to the form of your body.
Soft earth.
A soft nest to cradle your rest.
Take the next 10 breaths or so,
Allowing a hush to settle over you.
Each breath an invitation to slow and to settle.
To be here and to be held.
And this breathing body,
This beating of your heart.
Whoever you are,
Whatever you need.
Imagine that your replenishment could be found in the quietude.
This pause that you have chosen,
You have chosen to be here.
And each breath an opportunity to receive the nourishment of this moment.
In any way that it comes,
Familiar,
Unfamiliar,
Expected or unexpected.
Notice your ears hearing,
Listening the sound around you,
Far in the distance or so close that it holds you too.
The sound of my voice,
The sound of your breath.
The quietest sounds that turn to just feeling,
That turn to just feeling within you.
What does it mean to listen?
Allow the eyes to gaze onto the backs of your eyelids,
The dark screen of the mind.
The eyes still seeing,
Even in the dark.
And the gaze turns over the tip of the nose and the gaze turns deep,
Deep inside.
And the listening becomes a feeling.
And the body is held by what supports you,
By what supports that.
By earth and gravitational pull.
And the hush,
The hush that you invite in willingly wraps you in its soft fog.
And all the muscles that allow the eyes to move in their sockets,
They soften too.
The eyes rest just a little bit heavier,
And then a little bit heavier still.
And the breath comes in and the breath goes out.
And the hush,
The hush washes over the muscles of your face,
The space in between the eyebrows,
The forehead and the temples.
The joint of the jaw and the jaw.
The lips and the mouth and the throat,
Nothing to say.
And the hush washes over the scalp and the ears.
And right behind the ears and the ridge at the base of the skull and the back of the neck.
And settles like a pool into the notch at the base of your throat.
And the hush waits quietly,
Patiently,
Soothing the words unspoken,
Soothing the words cast out and unable to be recalled,
Soothing the said and unsaid that might be stored here.
And the breath moves out like fog,
Like smoke,
Like prayers that need no words.
And the hush moves in the tips of the nostrils,
The back of the throat,
Deep down into the lungs,
Touching every cell.
And from the gathered pool of the notch at the base of your throat,
The hush pours out,
Spreads across the collarbones,
The shoulders,
Seeps across the arms,
Like sap moving through a tree,
Sprawling out into the limbs.
The hush moves down through the elbows,
The forearms,
The wrists and the palms,
And each of your fingers drips from their tips.
And the hush moves over the chest,
Touches down in between each of the ribs,
Blankets itself over the side body and the belly,
The hips and the pelvis,
And both legs.
And the knees and the backs of the knees,
The lower legs and the ankles and the feet and the soles of your feet and the tips of your toes.
It knits itself up the front of your body and the back of your body.
A cocoon of patient waiting,
A cocoon of quietude,
A cocoon of solace.
Rest here,
Rest here,
Rest here.
You are held.
And all of you invited into the in between,
Not quite waking,
Not quite dreaming,
Or perhaps a little bit of both.
Rest here,
Rest here,
Rest here.
A couple of minutes here count the days between now and spring,
Now and the awakening.
All upon cycle of gestation and growth.
Vowing not to rush our way through.
Rest here,
Rest here.
And from the hush of our quietude,
Come home.
Notice your body again within the nest,
Your limbs and your trunk and your beating heart and your breath breathing,
The eyes seeing in the dark,
The feeling and the hearing.
A whole body,
Every cell,
Listening.
Begin to unwind the cocoon,
Unravel the knitted shield of hush wrapped around you.
The breath moves the fog,
Clears the air.
May we receive the nourishment of the quiet,
The beautiful lessons found in the waiting.
And with the attention between the eyebrows,
The third eye center,
May I see clearly,
May I see clearly,
May I see clearly,
Deep breath in and out.
With the attention moving down to the notch at the base of your throat,
The breath might move in and out of the mouth.
May I speak my truth,
May I speak my truth,
May I speak my truth.
The breath moves big and out of the lungs.
And the attention trickles down to the space of the heart in the center of the chest.
May I lead from the heart,
May I lead from the heart,
May I lead from the heart.
We breathe big,
Watch the rise and the fall of the chest.
And waking life welcomes us again with open arms.
And waking life welcomes us again with open arms.
Here you are.
Thank you for your practice.
