Hello and welcome to this very special meditation.
It's a guided journey for under the full moon.
It's called running with the wolves.
Let's begin with the call of the wild.
Tonight we run.
This isn't a meditation for sitting still and being polite.
This is for the wild ones or the ones remembering how to be wild again.
There's a full moon hanging heavy in the sky,
Humming with fire and stirring something ancient in our bones.
Maybe you've felt it lately,
The restlessness,
The knowing,
The itch to leap before the path appears.
This is not chaos.
This is your courage waking up.
Tonight,
We call on that part of you that doesn't want to play it small anymore.
The one who wants to howl,
Who wants to run,
Who wants to remember what it feels like to trust your own pace.
This meditation is a story.
It's a remembering.
It's a run under moonlight with the wolves.
You're in a circle.
Your soul guides your untamed knowing.
So find a quiet place,
Sit,
Lie down or curl into your own version of readiness.
Close your eyes and let the wild in.
So these moments now are just to simply settle into your body.
Feel your weight sink into the ground like roots reaching deep into the earth.
Let your shoulders drop,
Your jaw unclench and your belly soften.
Begin to breathe,
Not to control,
But to remember.
In through the nose and out through the mouth,
Like wind through the trees,
Like a sigh at the end of a long day.
With each breath,
Come closer to yourself.
Not the polished,
Filtered version,
But the raw,
Pulsing,
Quietly powerful version.
Breathe in and gather your energy.
Breathe out and let go of everything that doesn't belong in this moment.
Letting the breath take you deeper,
Deeper into the woods,
Deeper into the story.
So you've got a feeling now that it's late and you're lying in bed,
But sleep won't come.
Something is calling.
You get up and move toward the window.
Outside the moon is huge,
Bright,
Full of secrets.
The wind rustles through the trees like it's whispering your name.
And then,
Movement.
Down below on the edge of shadow and moonlight,
You see them,
Wolves,
Not menacing,
But majestic.
Familiar,
Like a dream you forgot you had.
The largest one steps forward,
Eyes golden and ancient.
It looks up at you.
Not begging,
Not demanding,
Just inviting.
Come run with us.
Somehow your body knows what to do.
You step outside,
Barefoot,
Unafraid.
The wolves greet you like you're one of their own.
They press their bodies against you,
Cool fur,
Warm breath.
And just like that,
You remember.
You're not lost.
You're just returning.
You're walking into the night.
At first,
Slow,
Hesitant.
But then you feel it.
The pull.
The pulse.
Like the earth is waking up beneath your feet.
One of the wolves takes off,
Silent and graceful.
Another follows.
Then another.
And then you run.
Not to escape.
Not to win.
But to remember.
To feel your strength in motion.
The wind rushes past you,
Cool against your skin.
The moon lights your path in flashes.
Silver pools between dark trees.
The wolves are swift and fluid.
Weaving around you.
You're not chasing.
You're not behind.
You're with them.
One of them.
You leap over a fallen log.
You dart through the undergrowth.
Your body knows what to do.
No second guessing.
No apologies.
Just instinct.
Just presence.
You feel it now.
A spark in your chest.
That wild knowing.
That freedom you thought you'd forgotten.
You are alive.
And you are enough.
The wolves howl.
And for a moment,
You almost do too.
Their rhythm begins to slow.
The wolves ease their pace.
Their breaths deepen.
Their steps are quieter now.
You follow them into a clearing where the trees pull back and the world opens up.
You see a lake.
Still and glowing.
The moon hangs above it like a guardian,
Casting light across the surface like silver silk.
The pack approaches,
Lowering their heads to drink,
Their movements reverent,
Unhurried.
You step closer to the edge of the water.
And there you are,
Reflected in the lake.
Not just your face,
But your truth.
You see the version of you that's been hidden under expectations,
Doubts and not enoughs.
You see the one who's always been there,
Just waiting.
You exhale.
And you let it begin.
The soft unravelling.
Let the water take it.
The old stories.
The tired rolls.
The masks you've outgrown.
The weight of being palatable instead of powerful.
Breathe and let it go.
You dip your fingers in the water and feel a ripple move outward like an unspoken prayer.
And in the reflection you begin to see something new.
Your strength.
Your softness.
Your wild knowing.
You don't need to explain it.
You just need to receive it.
The wolves rise.
Not urgently,
But with intention.
One by one they begin to move again.
Returning to the path.
The largest of them lingers beside you.
Golden eyes lock with yours.
Not asking for anything.
Just witnessing.
And there's a knowing that passes between you.
You rise too.
You feel different now.
Not fixed,
But not perfect.
But real.
You're rooted in your own rhythm.
Whole in your imperfection.
As you walk with the pack.
There's no more need to prove yourself.
You've remembered who you are.
And that is enough.
The trees begin to thin.
You see the shape of your world ahead.
Your home,
Your life.
The everything in between.
But now you carry something different with you.
The wolves don't say goodbye.
They don't need to.
They are part of you now.
The part that remembers when you forget.
You cross the threshold.
Stepping back into the quiet of your space.
And you know.
You can come back to the wild any time.
You just have to listen.
Coming back now to your breath.
To the rhythm that lives inside you.
To the steadiness of being here.
In this body.
In this moment.
And feel the echo of the run in your lungs.
And feel the earth holding you.
Like it always has.
Place a hand on your heart.
Maybe both.
And feel that.
That's your power.
That's your presence.
That's the part of you no one can take.
So whisper.
Softly to yourself.
I am wild.
I am enough.
And just like that the journey becomes part of you.
So go on.
Into your day,
Your night,
Your life.
But walk a little taller.
Speak a little truer.
And love a little wilder.
And when the moon calls again you know where to find the pack.
And they'll be waiting.
