Make yourself comfortable.
Allow your body to settle.
Into whoever is supporting you.
And before we begin.
.
.
Remind yourself.
But for these next few minutes.
There is nowhere else you need to be.
Nothing you need to achieve.
Nothing you need to solve.
Nothing you need to give to anyone else.
This time.
Belongs to you.
Close your eyes.
That feels comfortable.
And take a slow breath in through your nose.
And gently out through your mouth.
Again.
Breathing in.
And breathing out.
And one more time.
A long,
Slow breath in.
And as you breathe out Allow your shoulders to drop.
Allow your jaw to relax.
Let your hands rest gently.
And simply notice the feeling of being here.
Right now.
In this moment.
Feel the support beneath your body.
Feel the earth beneath you.
The building.
Solid.
Steady.
Patient.
Now imagine that beneath your feet.
Beneath the base of your spine.
Tiny roots are beginning to appear.
Soft at first.
Fine threads reaching down into the earth.
And with every breath.
Those roots travel a little deeper.
Down through the floor.
Through the foundations.
Into the soil beneath you.
They travel through layers of earth and stone.
Down into the ancient ground beneath your feet.
And as your roots deepen.
Imagine the earth gently holding you.
You don't have to hold everything.
For these few moments.
And allow yourself to be held.
And breathe.
Quietly say to yourself I am here.
I am grounded.
I am safe.
In this moment.
Now imagine that you're standing outside.
In a beautiful September morning.
The light has begun to change.
Summer hasn't completely disappeared.
Autumn is beginning to whisper at its edges.
There is a freshness in the air.
You feel it against your skin.
You can smell the earth.
Perhaps there's a faint smell or scent of grass.
And herbs.
Fallen leaves.
A distant wood smoke.
Above you is a soft,
Blue sky.
That's somewhere nearby You hear birds calling to one another.
You begin walking along a little pathway.
There's no hurry.
Did you notice the feeling of the ground beneath your feet?
And ahead of you is a wooden gate.
You reach out and place your hand on it.
You feel the texture of the wood beneath your fingers.
And somehow you know This gate belongs to you.
Slowly.
You open it.
And beyond the gate.
Is a garden.
Your garden.
It's unlike anyone else's.
Because this garden.
.
.
Represents.
Your life.
I want you to pause here for a moment and look around.
Don't try to make the garden beautiful.
In fact,
Don't try to change anything.
Simply notice.
Perhaps there are areas overflowing with flowers.
Places filled with colour and life.
Perhaps there are trees heavy with fruit.
Vegetables ready to harvest.
And maybe there's other areas that have become neglected.
There may be weeds.
Overgrown pathways.
Plants that have finished flowering.
Need pulling out.
Branches that need pruning.
Perhaps there's even a corner.
You've avoided looking at for quite some time.
This garden isn't supposed to be perfect.
But it is alive.
And living through constant change.
You walk.
Slowly Gently through the garden.
And notice what catches your attention.
Somewhere in this garden you discover a place.
Where you can sit.
Perhaps it's a wooden bench.
Beneath a tree.
Perhaps a stone?
Warmed by the September sun.
Maybe a blanket spread across the grass.
You sit down and feel the warmth of the sun upon your face.
Feel the breeze gently moving across your skin.
And you breathe.
You breathe and place a hand over your heart.
And the other one over your stomach.
And you ask yourself quietly.
What do I need?
Just ask.
What do I need?
Perhaps your body answers first.
Rest.
Nourishment.
Touch.
Stillness.
And then you ask.
What is my heart?
Is it connection?
Forgiveness.
Laughter.
Creativity.
Love.
Or perhaps you hear nothing at all.
And that's okay.
Sometimes the question itself is enough.
Take another breath and ask.
Where am I giving more than I have to give?
Notice what comes into your awareness.
Is it a responsibility?
And expectation.
Person.
Perhaps it's simply the work.
Shoot.
I should do this.
I should help.
I should go.
I should manage.
Now gather all those shoots.
Into your hands.
And see them resting there.
And then slowly Close your hands.
And let the breeze.
Take them away.
Watch them scatter like dry leaves.
And realize you don't have to carry them anymore.
And quietly see.
I release what is not mine.
To carry.
I release.
What is not mine?
Feel your shoulders soften.
Your breathing becoming easier.
And now stand and continue through your garden.
You find a small patch of earth.
Bitch.
Empty.
And beside it is a little wooden box.
You open the box.
And inside our seats.
These are not ordinary seeds.
Each one represents something you would like to invite into your life.
Peace.
Confidence?
Joy?
Love?
Abundance.
Adventure.
Friendship.
Or perhaps something completely different.
I don't want you to plant them all.
Virgo reminds us.
That we don't have to change everything at once.
So choose just one.
And hold the little seed.
Between your fingers.
And ask yourself.
What would I like to grow in my life?
Now.
And when you're ready.
Kneel beside the air.
Make a small hollow in the soil.
And plant your seed inside.
Cover it gently.
Feeling the cool earth beneath your fingertips.
And then place your hands over the place where your seed is resting and imagine a soft light.
Beginning to glow beneath your palms.
The light is warm.
Gentle.
Golden.
And see silently.
I give myself permission.
To grow.
I don't need to know.
Exactly how?
I only need to begin.
Imagine this intention travelling from your hands.
Into the air.
Surrounding your little seat.
As you stand up,
You notice something nearby.
A beautiful ball.
Filled with clear water.
Lift it carefully.
And notice that the water catches the September sunlight.
But before watering your seed.
Bring the ball towards your heart.
And imagine filling the water with love.
Not romantic love.
That love that has to be earned.
Just the quiet love.
We so often give freely to other people.
And sometimes forget.
To give ourselves.
Pour a little water.
Onto the earth.
And as you do,
See.
I choose to care for myself.
Pour a little more and see.
I choose to listen.
To my body.
And again.
I choose to honor my energy.
And finally.
.
.
I choose to make room for joy.
Put the bowl down and look around your garden again.
And you notice something you hadn't seen before.
There are other gardens beyond yours.
Gardens of people you love.
People you know.
And gardens belonging to people you will never meet.
Something beautiful begins to happen.
The golden light surrounding your little seed.
Begins travelling through the air.
Not taking anything away from you,
But simply expanding.
Moving beneath the garden gate.
Beneath the hedges.
Beneath the walls.
Into the earth beyond.
And you understand them.
Caring for yourself.
Doesn't diminish what you have to give.
It increases it.
Your peace touches other people.
Your joy touches other people.
Your kindness touches other people.
And your creativity.
Touches other people.
Even your boundaries can teach other people how to honour their own.
You do not need to empty yourself to be of service.
You simply need to tend to your own garden.
And allow whatever grows there.
To ripple outwards.
Now notice the light is beginning to change.
The sun is lower in the sky.
The season is turning.
And ahead lies the Equinox.
A moment of balance.
Light and dark.
Give and take.
Action and rest.
Holding on.
And letting go.
Place your hands over your heart.
And quietly see.
I give.
And I receive.
I work.
And I rest.
I care for others.
And I care for myself.
I honour the balance within my life.
I am worthy of the same love and care that I so freely give to others.
Let those words settle.
Simply plant them.
Like another little seed.
And allow them to grow.
It's time to leave the garden now.
But before you go Turn back towards the place where you planted your seed.
You don't need to dig it up.
To see whether it's growing.
You don't even need to worry about how quickly it will appear.
Your job is simply to tend it.
Water it.
Give it light.
Give it time.
Trust what is happening beneath the surface.
Walk slowly back towards the wooden gate.
And place your hand upon it.
Before stepping through,
You look back at your garden.
Perhaps it isn't perfect.
Perhaps there is still work to do.
But it's yours.
And you're learning how to care for it.
Step through the gate.
And gently close it behind you.
You can return whenever you need to.
Now begin bringing your awareness back to your physical body.
Feel the surface beneath you.
Feel the temperature of the room.
And listen to the sounds around you.
Take a deep breath in.
And slowly breathe out.
Gently move your fingers and your toes.
Before opening your eyes.
Make one A quiet promise to yourself.
What is one small act of care?
I can give myself today.
One small thing.
Let that be your new moon intention.
Take one final deep breath.
And as you breathe out See silently.
I tend to myself.
With love.
I trust what is growing.
And I allow that love to ripple outwards.
And when you're ready.
Gently open your eyes.
And come back.
