Returning to yourself.
There are moments in life when we look in the mirror.
And quietly wonder.
Where did I go?
Not because we've disappeared.
But because life has asked so much of us.
We become the one who remembers everyone's birthday and birthday.
The one who answers the emails.
Cares for Family.
Meets deadlines.
And keeps things moving.
Little by little,
Our attention turns inward.
Until one day.
We realize.
We haven't spent much time with ourselves at all.
If that feels familiar.
You're not alone.
This meditation isn't about becoming someone new.
Perhaps it's simply about returning.
To someone that you've known all along.
I'm Karen.
Let's begin.
Gently.
Always gently.
Arrange yourself to be comfortable,
And if you can,
Take a slow breath in.
There's nowhere that you need to arrive.
And nothing to accomplish.
For these next few moments.
Just allow yourself to be exactly as you are.
Notice the gentle rhythm of your breathing.
You don't need to make it deeper.
Or change it in any way.
There's no need to breathe in a particular way.
You're simply allowing the breath to breathe itself.
As though your body already knows.
It already knows how to care for you.
Without asking anything of your thinking mind.
Can you gently bring your awareness now?
To the places where your body feels supported.
Your feet.
Your legs.
You're back.
Perhaps noticing the weight of your hands.
The gentle contact of clothing.
Against your skin.
Quiet miracle.
Being held by the Earth.
There's nothing you need to hold together right now.
And for this next little while.
Allow yourself instead to be held.
As your body begins to soften.
Maybe you can ask yourself,
Not with urgency.
Not with urgency.
But with curiosity.
How have I been,
Really?
Not how should I be.
Not.
How do others think I am?
Simply.
How have I been?
And then just listen.
Without trying to change the answer.
Just listen.
Perhaps you notice.
Tiredness perhaps relief.
Perhaps sadness.
Or perhaps nothing at all.
Every experience is welcome here.
Nothing needs to be pushed away.
Now,
Can you imagine?
That you're meeting yourself.
Just as you would if you were meeting someone you love dearly.
Not someone who needs advice.
Or someone who needs fixing.
Just someone who deserves your full attention.
What expression would be on your face?
And how would your voice sound?
Would there be kindness?
Patience.
Gentleness.
Can you offer even a little bit of that to yourself?
Perhaps silently saying,
I'm here.
I've missed you.
You don't have to carry everything alone.
Allow those words to settle wherever they're needed.
Not because they're magical.
But because they're true.
Now imagine that beneath every role you've ever played,
Underneath all the masks,
There's a quiet place inside you.
Untouched by success.
Untouched by failure.
Untouched by praise.
Or criticism.
It has simply been waiting.
Not demanding your attention.
Only welcoming it.
Whenever you return.
Perhaps you can rest there right now.
Not needing to describe it.
Not needing to understand it,
Just.
.
.
Just resting.
As though you've come home.
After a long journey.
And the house has been expecting you all along.
Take a few moments here.
In silence.
Notice the breath.
Feel yourself supported.
There's nowhere else you need to be.
As this practice begins to draw toward its close.
Remember this.
Returning to yourself isn't something reserved for meditation.
It happens.
Every time you pause before reacting.
Every time you take one conscious breath.
Every time you choose kindness.
Over self-criticism.
Every time you remember that Who you truly are has never been measured by how much you produce.
How much you give.
Or how perfectly you hold everything together.
That quiet presence has been here all along.
Waiting patiently.
Not asking you to become someone else.
Only inviting you.
To come home.
And come home.
Take one final,
Unhurried breath.
And as you are ready,
Allow your awareness to slowly return.
Perhaps wiggling your fingers and toes.
Knowing within yourself.
Carrying with you.
Not the feeling of becoming someone new.
But the quiet comfort of remembering.
Who has been here all along?
And welcome home.
So much love.
