Welcome.
It's time to rest now.
It's time to soften,
To let go.
Find a comfortable position and gently close your eyes.
Feel the weight of your body sinking into the surface beneath you and allow yourself to be held.
Take a deep breath in and a slow releasing breath out.
Again,
Breathe in.
And as you exhale,
Feel the tension begin to melt away.
This time take a gentle slow inhale through your nose,
Blowing the exhale softly,
Gently and slowly back out through your mouth.
Let's take two more like that in your own time,
With each exhale sinking deeper into that space of deep rest.
Tonight I want to share a story with you.
A story about love.
Not the kind that binds,
But the kind that frees.
The kind of love that does not shape or change,
But allows.
As the river allows the fish,
As the sky allows the birds,
As the earth allows the trees to root deeply without asking them to grow differently.
It's a story of a willow tree and the wind.
And the lesson that they carried through the seasons.
Once in a valley nestled between quiet hills,
There stood a willow tree.
She was slender and graceful,
Her long branches swaying like silk ribbons whenever the breeze touched them.
Her roots ran deep into the earth,
Drinking from the river that whispered beside her.
She was happy,
Content in her stillness.
And yet,
She longed for something more.
She longed to be seen,
To be held.
And then,
One autumn evening,
The wind arrived.
He swept through the valley,
Wild and free,
Running his fingers through golden fields,
Playing in the river,
Stirring the stars in the night sky.
When he reached the willow,
He paused,
Drawn to the way that she moved,
Softly,
Fluidly,
As if she already knew his touch before he had even touched her.
He wrapped himself around her,
Lifting her branches,
Dancing through her leaves.
You're beautiful,
The wind whispered.
The willow trembled,
Not from fear,
But from something else.
Something she had never known before.
Stay,
She said.
The wind laughed,
But not unkindly.
I do not stay,
He said,
I move,
I travel,
I wander.
But the willow didn't understand.
She thought,
If I can make him love this place,
If I can give him a reason to stay,
He will remain beside me.
And so,
She made herself lighter,
More delicate,
So that he could move through her easily.
She let him carry her leaves when he grew restless,
So he would have something to hold as he travelled.
But still,
The wind left.
And each time he did,
The willow grew sadder.
She felt that she wasn't enough,
That if only she could be something different,
Taller,
Stronger,
More unshakable,
Then perhaps then he would choose to stay.
And so,
She tried to stand firmer,
To resist his touch,
To show him she could be still and unmovable.
But when he returned and found her rigid,
Her branches stiff against his breath,
He sighed.
Why do you fight me,
He asked.
Because I love you,
She said.
The wind was silent for a long moment.
And then he whispered,
Then let me be the wind.
Then the willow stood in silence long after he'd gone.
Let me be the wind.
She had not loved him as he was.
She had loved who she wanted him to be.
She had tried to change him,
To change for him,
To shape him into something that did not move,
Did not leave,
Did not belong to the sky.
She had lovingly mistaken holding for love.
And in doing so,
Had lost the very things she adored.
That winter,
As the snow fell softly around her,
The willow closed her eyes and thought.
She thought of the river that did not chase the fish,
Yet still gave them home.
She thought of the moon,
Which did not pull the stars closer,
Yet still shone with them in the night sky.
And she thought of love,
The kind that does not possess,
But allows.
And when spring came,
When the wind returned,
She didn't beg him to stay.
She did not bend herself to please him,
Nor did she make herself rigid to keep him at a distance.
She simply was.
And the wind,
Seeing her in her fullness,
Her freedom,
Loved her all the more.
He did not stay,
But he always returned,
Because he was not bound,
He was welcomed.
And the willow,
No longer trying to hold what was never meant to be held,
Danced with him,
Not in fear of his leaving,
But in joy of his presence.
Because love,
She had learned,
Was not in possession.
It was in allowing another to be exactly as they are.
Allow yourself to rest in this thought.
Love does not shape,
Nor change.
It does not bind,
Nor demand.
It allows,
Like the river,
Like the sky,
Like the willow tree that sways freely.
Take a deep breath in,
And as you exhale,
Let go of anything that you do not need.
You are enough as you are,
And those you love are enough as they are.
Sleep now,
In the gentle rhythm of the wind,
In the quiet wisdom of the willow.
You are free,
And you are loved.
