Hello my friends.
I'm so glad you're here.
Wherever you are right now,
Go ahead and get comfortable.
You can close your eyes or just soften your gaze downward.
There's no right way to do this.
Just you in this moment.
Take a breath in.
And let it go.
One more time,
In through your nose.
And out nice and slow.
You don't have to leave anything at the door today.
Whatever you're carrying,
You can bring it in here with you.
The heavy stuff.
The tired stuff.
The stuff you saw on your phone this morning that you haven't put down yet.
You can bring it all in,
Because this isn't about escaping.
It's about learning how to be here,
With everything that's true at once.
Let's start with the body.
Notice where you're sitting or lying down.
Notice what's supporting you.
The chair,
The couch,
The floor.
Whatever it is,
Let it hold you completely.
You don't have to hold yourself up right now.
Let your shoulders drop.
Unclench your jaw.
Let your hands go soft in your lap.
Now I want you to think of something that's true.
Something that maybe feels a little sticky or hard for you to digest right now.
It could be something from the news,
Something from your own life.
Something you've been carrying since you woke up this morning.
You don't need to fix it right now.
You don't need to explain it or solve it.
Just let it be present.
Let it sit here,
In the room with us.
And notice that you can do this.
You can hold something painful in your mind without it swallowing you whole.
It's there,
And you are still breathing.
Now,
Alongside that,
I want you to notice something else.
Something small,
But good.
Still true.
Still here.
Maybe it's the sound of your own breath.
Maybe it's the temperature of the room.
Maybe it's just the fact that you took a few minutes for yourself today.
Let both of these things exist at the same time.
The hard thing.
And the small good thing.
They're not in competition.
One does not cancel the other out.
This is the practice.
Not choosing between grief and joy.
Not deciding which one you're allowed to feel today.
Just letting them sit next to each other.
The way rain can fall from the sky,
But the sun is still shining.
You are allowed to feel your feet on the ground.
And still care about the world.
You're allowed to rest and still be paying attention.
Staying soft doesn't mean you've stopped noticing what's hard.
It means you haven't gone numb to keep yourself safe from it.
Take another breath in.
And let it out.
If your mind wanders,
That's all right.
Just come right back.
Back to the breath.
Back to the weight of your body against whatever is holding you.
Back to this moment.
Which is the only one you actually have to be in.
Before we close,
I want you to think of one small physical thing you can return to after this.
A rug under your feet.
A window.
A cup of something warm,
Something ordinary that reminds you that you're still here,
Still alive,
Still soft enough to feel it.
Hold that image for a moment.
When you're ready,
Start to deepen your breath.
Wiggle your fingers and your toes.
Let the room come back into focus around you.
And whenever you open your eyes.
Know this.
You don't have to choose between caring about the world and letting yourself feel okay.
You can hold both.
Thank you friends for practicing with me.
I wish you all calm and comfort in your day.
