Welcome,
And I hope that each one of you will come to find peace within yourself.
Today I want to talk a little bit about trusting your path.
And this meditation is based on a live session I did recently.
I've learned in merely 57 years of meditating that we are often our own worst enemy.
We hang on to things when we should let go,
We fail to be kind to ourselves,
And we worry about things that we have absolutely no control over.
And too often we worry about where our path is leading.
But I want you to look at the definition of the word path.
A physical track,
A narrow way or trail on the ground,
Worn by people walking.
Or it's a direction of movement,
The line or course along which a moving object,
Like a storm or a planet,
Moves.
Or it's a figurative series of actions or choices,
Steps,
That lead to a specific goal.
And if you think about all those definitions,
They all indicate movement.
If you just stand still,
You can't walk a path or make a path or follow a path.
And I've done a talk where I talk about there being a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.
That you can know a lot about a destination.
Whether it's a park or a trail or a river.
You can learn about all the bridges and all the stops and all the stores and all the other things that pertain to it,
But you will never know those paths until you walk them or canoe them.
And many people unconsciously believe that they can only relax once they know exactly where life is heading.
Yet most of our meaningful experiences unfold the other way around.
We take a step,
Life responds,
And the path reveals itself gradually.
You know,
Trust grows not from certainty,
But from discovering that we can meet what comes.
You have questions like,
What if trusting your path doesn't mean trusting that everything will go your way?
What if trust is simply the willingness to keep walking?
Can you remember when something in your life felt like a detour and it became a part of your growth?
I think that's true for all of us.
I know it's been true in my life.
And let's close our eyes now and let's get in touch with our breath.
And it doesn't matter whether you're sitting,
Standing,
Lying down,
Or kicked back in your favorite recliner.
The only thing that truly matters when you meditate is that you're comfortable and alert.
So as we start to settle in.
Let's focus on our breath.
Just breathing in and breathing out one breath at a time and then the next and then the next and that is the present moment one breath one inhale one exhale Let's scan our body.
Your face is way too tense.
Unfurl your brow and unclench your jaw.
Relax.
Relax your neck.
I roll mine around,
But you can do whatever makes you happy because it's always your meditation.
And there is no right way to meditate.
Relax your mind.
Shoulders.
These are common places of tension in today's world.
Let's relax our arms and our hands.
And look for any tension in your chest and belly.
Relax your legs and your feet.
And as we begin to relax,
Let's focus even more on our breath.
Our breath is our anchor.
It's there for us in all moments.
When we're happy,
When we're sad,
When we're letting go,
When we're being kind.
And when we're on our path.
And there's no need to change anything.
Simply notice that you have arrived.
You've carried yourself through countless moments to get here.
Thousands of breaths.
Thousands of decisions.
Countless turns in the river of your life.
And right now,
There is nowhere else you need to be.
So just take a slow,
Easy breath in,
And a gentle breath out.
And then do it again.
Breathing in.
And breathing out.
One breath at a time.
And let each exhale soften something.
Just allowing yourself to settle.
As though a little of the busyness of the day is sinking to the bottom of a clear pool,
And the water is gradually becoming still.
Now imagine yourself standing beside a river.
Not just seeing it.
Really sensing it.
The sound of the moving water.
The light dancing across its surface.
The coolness of the air.
And the smell of the earth and the stone and the trees.
This river is ancient.
It has been flowing long before you arrived,
And it will continue flowing long after you leave.
And yet somehow,
Right now,
It's here for you.
A reflection of your own life.
Notice how the river never asks where it should go.
It does not stand at a bend,
Arguing with the landscape.
It does not reach a stone and declare itself lost.
No,
It simply continues.
Flowing.
Responding.
Adjusting.
Trusting.
Take a slow breath.
And consider just for a moment how much energy we sometimes spend wanting to see further downstream.
Wanting guarantees.
Wanting certainty.
Wanting to know exactly where every choice will lead.
As if we could somehow stand at the river's edge and map every twist and turn before taking a single step.
And yet life rarely works that way.
Here I'm going to pause for a minute so you can just think and breathe as we go down this river and I'll be back in a minute.
You know,
A river does not reveal its entire course,
Only the next stretch,
Only the next bend,
Only the next few feet of water,
And still it flows.
Just imagine stepping into the river now.
Not fighting it.
Not swimming against it.
.
.
.
Simply floating.
Supported.
Held.
Carried.
And feel the water beneath you.
Sense what it would be like to stop working so hard to manage every current.
To stop gripping the riverbanks.
To stop demanding certainty before you allow yourself to move forward.
Just floating.
Breathing.
Trusting.
As you rest here.
Notice if any part of you still wants to control the journey.
Perhaps there's a decision.
Or a worry.
Or a question.
Something unresolved.
See if you can gently place it into the river.
Not to get rid of it.
Not pretending it doesn't matter,
Simply allowing it to float alongside you,
Instead of carrying it alone.
The river knows how to hold things.
Notice what happens when you stop clutching.
What happens when your hands open?
What happens when your body remembers that support is possible.
Just breathing in and breathing out one breath at a time.
Floating.
Now imagine the river approaching a large bend,
And around that bend you cannot see what comes next.
The water disappears from sight.
And perhaps there is a familiar feeling,
The discomfort of not knowing.
The mind may whisper.
What if something goes wrong?
What if I make a mistake?
What if I end up somewhere I didn't plan to go?
These are deeply human questions.
Questions nearly all of us carry,
Nearly all of us ask.
But notice something.
The river never sees beyond the bend either.
It discovers the next moment by entering it.
Not probably predicting it.
Not by controlling it.
By flowing into it.
And perhaps trust is not the absence of uncertainty.
Perhaps trust is the willingness to keep moving,
Even when uncertainty is present.
To feel fear and still continue.
To feel doubt and continue.
To feel vulnerability and continue.
Just as the river does.
Now bring attention to your own life.
And notice a chapter that once seemed confusing.
A period when you could not understand why things were happening the way they were.
I know I have several of those.
Perhaps there was loss.
Or disappointment.
Or change.
A turn in the river you never should have chosen.
And yet here you are.
And you survived it.
You learned from it.
You were shaped by it.
Perhaps some part of that journey eventually revealed a wisdom that simply wasn't visible at the time.
The bend that made no sense before now belongs to the river that brought you here.
Take just a moment to honor that.
Not because everything was easy.
Not because every experience was welcome.
But because you continued,
You flowed,
You adapted,
You kept finding your way,
And the river within you knows more than you think.
Long before the mind forms conclusions life is already moving.
The heart is already learning.
The body is already adapting.
Wisdom is already unfolding.
Just as a river naturally finds its course around rocks and fallen trees,
There is something in you that knows how to navigate life's obstacles.
You do not have to know every answer right now.
You only need this moment,
This breath,
This step,
This stretch of water.
Breathing in.
And breathing out.
One breath at a time.
Imagine now that you are floating deeper into the river.
The current feels steady.
And strong.
And gentle,
And that's supporting you without effort.
And as you rest there,
Silently repeat,
I do not need to see the whole path.
I only need to meet this moment.
Life is still unfolding.
The river knows how to flow.
And I know how to listen.
I do not need to see the whole path.
I only need to meet this moment.
Life is still unfolding.
The river knows how to flow,
And I know how to listen.
Let those words settle naturally,
No need to force them.
No need to believe them perfectly.
Simply allowing them to drift through you like leaves upon water.
Notice how that river has carried you into a wider section.
The water opens.
The sky opens.
Everything feels more spacious.
And perhaps this spaciousness has always been available beneath the urgency.
Beneath the striving,
Beneath the demand to figure everything out.
A spaciousness that says you are allowed to be human.
You are allowed to learn as you go.
You are allowed to not know.
You are allowed to trust what is unfolding.
Take a slow breath.
And then another.
And imagine the sunlight touching the surface of the river.
Thousands of flashes of light.
Appearing and disappearing.
None of them remaining.
Yet together they create beauty.
In the same way the moments of your life come and go.
Success and failure.
Clarity and confusion.
Joy and sorrow.
Each one temporary.
Each one part of something larger.
The river does not cling to any particular wave.
It lets each one pass.
And perhaps trusting your path is not about holding on to the perfect experience.
Perhaps it is learning to let life move.
While remaining connected.
To the deeper current beneath it all,
The current that has carried you from your first breath until now.
The current that is still carrying you.
Even on days when you forget.
Even on days when you doubt.
Even on days when you feel lost.
Reset for a few moments in the simple feeling of being carried.
Nothing to solve.
Nothing to achieve.
Nowhere to go.
Just this.
Just breathing.
Just floating.
Just being.
And as our meditation begins to come to a close,
If you're willing,
Bring one hand to your heart.
And feel the rise and fall of your breathing.
And silently offer yourself this reminder.
My path does not need to be perfect.
My path only needs to be lived.
I can trust the next step.
I can trust this moment.
I can trust the wisdom that unfolds through experience.
And when I cannot trust completely,
I can trust a little.
When I cannot trust a little.
I can trust this next breath.
And sometimes that is enough.
Take a deeper breath in and slowly let it go.
Feel the support beneath you.
And remember,
The river does not force its way to the ocean.
It arrives by continually being true to its nature.
Flowing.
Adapting.
Responding and trusting.
And may you remember that same wisdom within yourself.
And may you trust the path beneath your feet.
And may you discover again and again that the river has been carrying you all along.
Now let your awareness come back to the room.
And when you're ready,
Open your eyes.
Wiggle your fingers and toes and stretch and feel how good it is to be alive and in this moment.
Your path is leading exactly where it needs to.
And I hope this has been a beneficial and calming session for each and every one of you.
I value your presence here.
Till next time.
