Welcome.
Before we begin.
Let your body settle.
Into whatever is holding you right now.
The chair.
The cushion.
Or the bed.
Feel the surface meet you.
Feel it take your weight without asking anything in return.
Let your spine lengthen a little.
And then let your shoulders drop down,
Away from the ears.
Close your beautiful eyes.
My name is Rasa.
And I am happy you are here with me.
There is something I want to show you tonight.
Something that has been with you your whole life.
Walking beside you through every choice you have made.
And yet you have never once turned and looked at it directly.
Not because you weren't trying.
Because it lives in one place your eyes cannot reach.
Think for a moment about how you see.
Right now,
Even with your eyes closed.
Your attention points forward,
The way it always does.
There is a front to you.
A direction you face.
And everything you have ever known about yourself.
You have learned from that one angle.
Looking out from behind your own eyes.
But you are larger than that single view.
There is a region of you that sits just past the edge,
Over your shoulder.
Behind the turn of your head.
In the soft dark where your gaze has never been able to follow.
This is your blind spot.
And tonight,
Gently.
We are going to turn toward it.
Take a slow breath in through your nose.
Feel the cool air arrive at the back of your throat.
Hold it for a moment at the top.
Where it feels full and round.
And let it leave you slowly through your mouth.
Warmer now.
Carrying the weight of the day out with it.
Do that again with me.
Breathe in.
And feel your ribs widen at the sides.
And breathe out.
And feel your belly grow soft and heavy.
One more for good measure.
In.
Drawing the breath all the way down to the base of your spine.
And out.
Sinking another inch into the surface beneath you.
Good.
Notice the darkness behind your eyelids.
It has a texture tonight.
Grainy and warm.
Moving very slightly.
Like the inside of a closed hand held up to a candle.
Rest your attention there.
Let your eyes grow still inside their sockets.
There is nowhere they need to point.
Let them flow.
Now I want you to sense the space behind you.
Without turning.
Without trying.
Just feel the air at your back.
The room continuing past your shoulders.
Into places you cannot see.
Most of your life happens in front of you,
Where your eyes can manage it.
But the air behind you is just as real.
The part of you back there is just as real.
It breathes when you breathe.
It has opinions you have never heard out loud.
It knows things about you that the forward-facing part has been too busy to learn.
Now bring your awareness to the back of your head.
That round,
Smooth place where the head curves down to meet the neck.
Feel the small warmth there.
This is the doorway we will use tonight.
Not the forehead and not the eyes.
Those look outwards.
We are going in through the back.
Where the light has never reached.
Where the blind spot keeps its quiet residence.
As you breathe.
Let a question form.
Maybe not in words at first.
Let it form as a feeling,
Low and curious.
Somewhere beneath your ribs.
The feeling of wanting to know something about yourself.
That has stayed just out of view.
Perhaps it is the reason of certain situation keeps repeating in your life.
Perhaps it is the thing other people seem to see in you that you cannot find when you look.
And perhaps it is a gift you keep stepping around without realizing it is there.
Let the question gather its own shape in your body.
There is no need to name it cleanly.
Your blind spot already knows which question this is.
When the feeling is clear.
Hold it there.
Without words,
Low beneath your ribs.
Do not speak it yet.
Let it wait inside you.
Like a held breath.
Gathering weight.
Until the moment comes to send it out.
Feel that unspoken question.
Settle backwards.
Into the dark behind your head.
Into the part of you that has waited a long time to be looked at.
There's no fear in this place.
The thing you cannot see is not some monster.
It is simply unwatched.
The way a back garden grows wild,
Not from neglect.
But from privacy.
We are going to open the gate.
And walk in.
Breathe once more slowly.
Feel your whole body grow heavier.
Warmer.
And the more willing.
Feel your face soften.
Your jaw unhinges by a hair.
The space between your eyebrows smooths flat.
You are settled now.
And you are turning.
Very slowly.
Toward the part of yourself you have never met.
Stay here with me in this turning and breathe.
As you turn.
The dark behind your head opens like a door swinging on a soft hinge.
And you step through it.
Into a place that smells of rain and warm stone.
See yourself standing at the edge of a small courtyard.
You have never seen before.
Yet your fee.
Seem to know the ground.
The tiles beneath you are worn smooth in the center.
And rougher at the edges.
Cool against your souls.
A low wall circles the space.
Beyond it,
You cannot tell whether it is evening or early dawn.
The sky holds that violet-gray color that belongs to neither.
The colour of the moment,
Just before you understand something.
See that in the middle of the courtyard.
Stands a single tall mirror.
Taller than you.
Its surface turned away from you.
So that you see only its back.
Dark wind.
The grain running in long,
Quiet lines.
You walk toward it.
The closer you come.
The more you feel a faint warmth radiating from it.
The way a stone wall holds the heat of the sun long after the sun is gone.
There is someone standing beside the mirror.
Sense them before you see them.
It's a steady presence.
Patient.
The kind of presence that has been waiting without impatience.
As you come around the side of the mirror,
You meet them.
This is the keeper of your unseen side.
They wear the same violet grey as the sky.
And their face is kinda in a way that asks nothing of you.
They have been tending this courtyard.
Your whole life.
Watering the part of you.
That grows back here.
Keeping it alive.
Until you were ready to come.
The keeper gestures toward the mirror.
And as you step in front of it Notice something strange.
It does not show you your face.
Instead,
The glass is filled with a slow,
Moving image.
Like deep water with light beneath it.
The keeper says softly,
That a mirror only ever shows what faces it.
To see your blind spot.
You must let the mirror show you the part of you that has always stood behind your own back.
Place your palm flat against the glass.
It is warm and gives slightly.
Like the surface of still water.
Feel it accept your hand.
Feel the whole meditation gather behind this single moment.
The breath,
The turning,
The courtyard.
The Keeper waiting beside you.
The question you have carried wordless beneath your ribs is ready now.
Let it rise up through your chest.
And to your throat.
And gather at your palm where it meets the warm glass.
Now whisper it once into the mirror.
Say it with all the quiet intention you have.
Show me.
My blind spot.
Let your hand rest against the glass.
And simply watch.
Something begins to stir in the depths.
Do not strain to make it clear.
Do not reach for it.
Let it choose its own form.
And rise towards you in its own time.
The way a face surfaces in a dream.
Whatever comes is exactly what is ready to be seen.
So receive it now.
And stay here,
In this open and waiting quiet.
For as long as it takes.
Gently,
Come back now to the warmth of the glass beneath your palm.
And to the sound of my voice.
Whatever showed itself to you tonight,
Look at it kindly.
It may have come as a quality,
A pattern.
A tenderness.
A strength.
Or a fear that has been quietly shaping your choices from a place you could never look.
However it arrived.
This part of you is not your enemy.
It has been doing its best in the dark.
With no light.
And no thanks.
So let recognition move through you now.
A warmth spreading across your chest.
A loosening behind your eyes.
A relief that has waited a long time to arrive.
Feel the keeper place a hand on your shoulder.
And tell you that nothing seen with this much softness can ever harm you.
Seeing it is enough.
You do not need to fix it tonight.
You only needed to turn around.
Feel the image press once more against your palm.
Like a small hand answering yours.
And then settle back into the water off the mirror.
No longer hidden.
Simply known.
The keeper lifts a small clay cup from the wall and offers it to you.
Inside is something dark and still that reflects the violet sky.
Drink it.
It tastes faintly of rain and of something sweet underneath.
And feel it as it moves through you.
The courtyard begins to soften at its edges.
The walls grow gentle.
The tiles beneath your feet feel more like the surface you are truly resting on.
Here in your room.
In your body.
You will carry what you saw tonight.
It does not need to be carried as a task.
Carry it the way you carry your own name.
Quietly without effort.
Knowing it is simply true.
And the days ahead.
You will notice this part of you more easily,
With the same kindness the keeper showed you.
And it will no longer steer you from the dark.
Because you have met it in the life.
Now feel the weight of your body again.
On the surface beneath you.
Feel your hands grow heavy.
Feel your breath move on its own.
Slow and full.
Asking nothing of you now.
The courtyard fades.
The keeper bows their head once in farewell.
And the warmth of that place stays low in your chest like a small ember banked for the night.
Let your thoughts grow loose and slow.
Let the images blur and drift.
There's nothing left to do tonight.
You have seen what you came to see.
And now you can rest more deeply than you have in a long while.
Held by the quiet knowing that no part of you is hidden from you anymore.
So sleep now,
Beautiful soul.
Let yourself sink.
Rest and stay blessed.
Stay balanced.
