Take a moment to arrive here.
For these few moments,
There is nowhere else you need to be,
Nothing else you need to do.
If it feels supportive,
Allow your eyes to close or soften your gaze.
Let your body choose a position that feels steady enough,
Not perfect,
Just supported.
Take one slow breath in,
And a long,
Unforced breath out.
When you are ready,
Take one more breath in,
And a long breath out.
Let the rhythm of your breathing begin to move on its own.
You don't need to control it,
Just notice that it's happening.
If you've found yourself here,
You may be facing a moment of fear or uncertainty.
Maybe you're standing near the edge of something unfamiliar.
Maybe your mind is loud with questions,
Or your body feels alert,
Watchful,
Braced.
For now,
You do not need to fix the fear,
Or push past it,
Or convince yourself to be brave.
See if you can allow a sense of inner safety to begin to settle,
If you can stay present with yourself in this moment.
Let whatever brought you here be held gently in the background.
You don't need to analyze it,
You don't need to name it clearly.
Just allow it to exist without pulling it closer.
Gently bring your attention down into your body.
Maybe you notice where your body makes contact with the surface beneath you,
Your feet,
Your legs,
Your back.
Maybe you allow yourself to melt into the support of what's holding you.
If it's okay,
Imagine your weight being received,
As if the ground beneath you knows how to hold exactly what you offer.
Take a breath in,
And on the exhale,
Let your shoulders drop.
Another breath,
And let your jaw unclench.
One more breath,
And let your belly soften.
See if you can allow yourself to rest inside your body.
Gently bring one hand to a place on your body that feels comforting or neutral.
Your chest,
Your belly,
Your thigh.
Allow this to be a signal to your body,
A quiet reminder,
I am here,
I am with you.
You might silently repeat,
In this moment,
I am here,
And I am okay.
I am allowed to be here.
You don't need to force these words,
Let them land in whatever way feels true for you.
Fear often arrives when something matters,
When you're near the edge of the unfamiliar,
When things feel undefined,
Unresolved,
Or unclear,
When part of you wants to know what comes next,
And another part feels hesitant to move too quickly.
Fear does not mean you are doing something wrong,
It can be a natural response to uncertainty,
Or to standing at the edge of something new,
Before the next shape has fully formed.
If it feels okay,
See if you can notice where fear lives in your body in this moment.
There's no need to judge it,
No need to explain it,
No need to make sense of it.
Maybe it feels tight,
Or heavy,
Or restless.
You don't need to change it,
Simply noticing is enough,
And you can allow the sensation to be here without it taking over for now.
If it feels supportive,
You might quietly say,
I see you,
You don't need to protect me right now.
See if you can allow your attention to turn inward,
Toward the part of you that is steady beneath the fear,
The part of you that has been here before,
That has navigated uncertainty,
That can breathe through discomfort.
You don't need to find this part clearly,
See if you can allow the possibility that it exists.
Let yourself rest there.
Begin to lengthen your exhales slightly,
Inhale gently,
And exhale a little longer than the inhale.
If it feels supportive,
Do that one more time.
Inhale gently,
And exhale a little longer than the inhale.
Nothing is being demanded of you,
Nothing needs to be decided,
There is time.
See if you can gently remind yourself,
You don't need all the answers right now.
You don't need certainty in order to be okay.
It can be possible to feel unsure,
And still remain grounded.
You are allowed to be in process,
You are allowed to take up space exactly as you are without needing to resolve anything in this moment.
Let these words be an offering,
Take in what feels supportive,
And feel free to leave the rest.
As we begin to close,
Gently bring your awareness back to your breath,
To the points of contact beneath you,
To the quiet steadiness of this moment.
Notice if anything has shifted,
Even subtly.
Fear can still be near,
And this grounded presence can hold what's here.
When you're ready,
Begin to gently bring your attention back to the room.
Wiggle your fingers or toes,
And when it feels right,
You can open your eyes.
I invite you to return to this steadiness within you whenever you need,
Not as a push forward,
But as a soft place to land.
And when it feels right,
Allow this practice to come to a close.
May you meet whatever comes next with care.
