Welcome,
I invite you to rest on the floor if you can,
Settling this body that has brought you here,
With respect for it.
You know what your body needs are,
Before we begin.
The body scan meditation may be known to you,
But what would it be like to consider you not as a thing of parts,
But as a whole,
Inseparable from,
And entangled with the world.
All that has come before you,
Folds to a singular moment of your body,
Here,
Woven into being by the world.
Let's explore this different perspective of the body scan together.
My name is David,
And thank you for choosing to be here with me.
Feeling gravity,
Softly,
Searching into you,
Muscles,
Your body,
The spaces between,
Births,
Deeper wisdom,
The muscles in your face to release what they can.
Tension pouring from you,
To earth,
Accepting to what remains.
You can sense the whisper of a smile,
Forming as a signal of personal gratitude,
For bringing yourself here.
Tenderness to fall onto the breath,
Nothing to change here,
Settle,
Rest for a while.
Is it possible,
To let the words spoken by philosopher Alfred North Whitehead,
To ripple through you,
Without the need for thought,
As a pebble dropped and lost to the depths of a pond,
As we think we live.
Tenderness to settle to your eyes,
Feeling the eyes,
From the inside,
Resting in their inky dark sockets.
I've found more than just a part of this body,
Passively receiving light from the world,
They are jewels that unveil the world in all its wonder,
Enriching our humanity,
Revealing the beauty that envelops our existence.
Through eyes,
We witness the majesty of nature,
Brilliance of art,
The warmth of a smile and the twinkling of stars scattered across the night sky.
Eyes,
The embodiment of emotions,
Depths of souls,
Connecting us to the world in profound ways.
With sight,
We reach into the world,
To explore the beauty of landscape,
To liminal horizons.
Marvels of wildlife,
The subtleties held in expression.
We see the delicate petals of a rose and the furl,
The dance of rippled light on a lake,
Of a mountain range,
And the flowing grace of a dancer.
The epitome,
Eyes are not passive,
They reach out to the world,
Seeing beyond the surface of the world too,
Reaches into the world,
Yet too,
Roots itself in us.
It pours in through our eyes,
Writing into memory,
The breathtaking,
Printed in hearts forever.
All becoming embodied,
Written and inked into flesh.
Emotions,
Our inner most thoughts too,
Once again,
Flow out from eyes.
Sadness,
Love and longing,
Our essence,
Our soul if you wish,
Our fears,
Deepest desires.
Rest a little now,
Possibly,
Something new waits in here we see ourselves.
Turning your awareness to your ears and hearing,
What do your ears feel like?
Coolness,
Warmth,
Enfolded flesh.
Yet ears are not just a thing,
A part of you.
The first moment you are cradled in the arms of the world,
Your sense of hearing becomes a gateway to the symphony of life.
It is precious,
Allowing you to perceive the melodies of nature,
The rhythm of music,
The whispers of loved ones,
Babble of a stream in conversation with rocks,
Once moved by flow and time.
Our ears are a constant component,
Leading us through the ever-changing melodies and beats of our existence,
And enriching our lives with a symphony of sounds,
That orchestrate the score of our memories too,
The harmonies of voices rising as one,
A whole greater than the parts,
The swirl of sounds that fill our lives with meaning as we age.
As inevitably we do,
Our ears become the keepers of memories,
Holding the echoes of moments that have shaped and engraved our lives.
We treasure the familiar voices of our loved ones,
The laughter of children,
Even the faded but never forgotten whispers of loved ones who may no longer be with us.
Our ears become a source of comfort,
Providing solace in times of solitude,
And cherish memories with a singular sound.
Ears are a symbol of listening,
And having the world to reach within us,
With its own music of trees blowing in a breeze.
Song of bird,
Present,
Attentive to the world,
The world unveils itself to you,
Rest once more,
Falling onto the breath,
Flowing in you,
Possibly in a breath,
Something newness into your hands.
What is it like to feel the hands from the inside,
Muscle,
Feeling the volume,
Weighted hands,
A vibrancy,
A tingling me,
Yet hands are forgotten in not just parts of us made of a skin,
Muscle.
Consider your hands,
Tools of your body,
Holding within them significance,
Are instruments of expression,
A utility that profoundly shapes lives.
Hands are the architects of your world,
To shape and create with their dexterity and skill.
They are the tools through which you build,
Craft,
Ideas to life.
Or simply holding a coffee in moments of reflective silence,
Expressing love,
Your fingers too,
Write stories,
Paint masterpieces,
Play musical instruments,
Create works of art that may leave a lasting legacy,
An impact,
Or simply have written and penned your hearts to ink and page,
Making real your thoughts,
Hopes,
Wishes and longings.
Your fingers are the embodiment of your creativity,
Capable of transforming your thoughts and visions into tangible realities in the world,
With your fingertips.
You explore the world,
Tracing its textures,
Contours,
Unravelling its mysteries,
You sense volumes without words,
You feel smoothness of waxy leaf,
Roughness of rock,
Even the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wings,
Possibly turning to storm in a distant land.
Your skin,
A canvas of sensation,
Telling you stories of the world,
Its temperatures,
Nuances,
Painting a vivid picture grander ever than any masterpiece.
Falling back once more,
Resting,
Possibly between a breath,
Something new waits for us,
To be held,
Fitting to the sense of skin and touch.
Your sense of touch allows you to feel the world in its entirety,
From the gentle caress,
The warmth of the sun on your skin,
From the texture of silk,
To the roughness of bark on a wise old tree.
The language of sensation tells you about the world in ways deeper than words,
Than poetry,
Than music,
Through touch,
You can experience the tangible,
The intangible and the sacred.
It is a language of tenderness,
Transcends barriers and fosters human connection.
Feeling to the whole body resting here,
Possibly between a breath,
Something new waits for us to touch,
Touched by,
In a betweenness,
Encounter between you and what is beyond.
Resting back again,
Simply,
Restfully,
Breathing,
Possibly,
Something new waits for us.
Our bodies are our companions,
Guiding us through the wondrous journey of life.
They are our vessels,
Our temples,
Our homes,
Carrying us through the changing tides of time with an unwavering grace.
Tiny fingers explore the world with curiosity,
Eyes wide with wonder as we take our first steps on this earth.
Our bodies are an essence of expression,
Always turning the page,
Yet as we grow,
Our bodies become instruments of adventure and exploration,
Walk,
Run,
Reveling in the sheer joy and flow of movement.
Our bodies become a screen for self-expression,
Tattoos and jewellery,
Reflecting and projecting into the world our personalities and identities,
Our place amongst things,
Revel in the boundless energy of youth,
Pushing our physical limits,
Engaging in thrilling adventures.
As we age,
It is whether the storms of time,
Marks of wisdom and experience,
As the world writes itself into us,
A page,
Now finding its narrative.
Our bodies may slow down,
But they carry the imprints of a life well-lived,
Etched with the scars of battles fought,
Lines of laughter and the ephemeral touch of loved ones.
I ask you to consider,
Where does your body really begin?
Where does the world begin?
We exist,
Not as body parts,
Together like a place of betweenness,
Unfolding as we think,
Resting here.
Perhaps you sense in this embodied practice,
Your body separate.
Instead,
They have all along been a mutual embrace with the world,
In and unfolding with the world.
Although our bodies are different,
Not separate from the world's,
We love,
And have been loved by the world as we think.
