Welcome to Yoganidro.
This is a practice for letting go of overthinking.
Before we begin,
Take a few moments to allow yourself to become as comfortable as possible.
If it feels right for your body today,
Allow yourself to lie down on your back.
You may wish to place a pillow beneath the knees.
A blanket beneath your head.
Maybe you cover yourself with another blanket to stay warm throughout the practice.
Every small adjustment you make now is an act of kindness towards yourself.
Allowing your body to settle more fully into rest.
If lying down isn't available to you,
Know that you can remain comfortably seated.
There is no perfect position.
Only the position that allows you to feel safe,
Supported and at ease.
Notice if there's anything else that you could adjust.
The positioning of your props.
The way that your clothing rests.
Maybe you need to softly wiggle the fingers and toes to release that last little bit of tension.
Take one last opportunity to adjust anything in this moment that needs adjusting.
And when you're ready,
Allow your eyes to gently close.
Take a long slow breath.
In through the nose.
And gently breathe out through the mouth.
Again,
Breathing in without forcing.
Breathing out without effort.
One more slow and nourishing breath.
As you exhale,
Imagine the day beginning to soften around you.
Nothing to hold.
Nothing to accomplish.
Nothing you need to figure out.
For these next few moments,
There is nowhere else that you are expected to be.
Allow yourselves to simply rest here.
Become aware of the places where your body is meeting the surface beneath you.
Feel the weight of your heels backs of your legs.
Your hips.
Your spine.
Your shoulders your arms.
The back of your head.
Notice that the earth is receiving all of your weight.
There is nothing that you need to hold together.
Nothing that you need to brace against.
You are completely supported.
As though the ground itself is quietly whispering.
I've got you.
Perhaps your mind is still busy.
Maybe it has been busy all day.
Thoughts arriving one after another.
Maybe you're planning.
Remembering.
Replaying conversations.
Wondering whether you said the right thing.
Overthinking the way you said something.
Maybe you're thinking about everything that still needs your attention tomorrow.
Maybe your mind has just become so accustomed to solving problems that it doesn't quite know how to stop.
If this feels familiar,
Know that you are not alone.
And that nothing has gone wrong.
Remind yourself that the mind thinks.
This is what it was designed to do.
Today we are not asking it to stop thinking.
We are simply giving it permission to rest from carrying everything all at once.
Imagine walking into a quiet library.
People are still there.
Books fill the shelves.
Knowledge exists.
But everything feels quieter.
More spacious.
Your thoughts can remain.
They simply no longer need to speak so loudly.
Begin noticing the natural rhythm of your breath.
No need to adjust or change it.
Simply observe.
The coolness of the inhale the warmth of the exhale.
The gentle rise of your belly.
The slow release as you breathe out.
Without effort.
Without control.
The breath that has faithfully been supporting you since the day you were born.
Even while you're busy thinking.
Even when you're worrying.
Even when you forget to notice it.
The breath continued.
Quietly.
Patiently.
Always returning.
Let your awareness rest here for several breaths.
Not counting.
Not controlling.
Simply witnessing.
Now become aware of the tiny space at the very end of your exhale.
There is a brief moment.
A pause.
Not something you create.
Just something that you notice.
Place where nothing needs to happen.
A place where your mind naturally becomes just a little quieter.
Allow yourself to rest in that gentle pause again.
And again.
Without trying to hold it.
Simply noticing it arrive.
And disappear.
Like watching waves touch the shoreline.
Before returning once more to the sea.
As your breathing continues naturally.
Imagine that every thought you have ever carried is like a leaf floating along a slow moving river.
Some leaves are bright and fresh.
Some are old and weathered.
Some carry worries.
Some carry plans.
Some carry memories.
Some carry questions that have no answers today.
You stand comfortably on the riverbank.
There's no need to climb into the water.
No need to gather the leaves No need to push them away.
Simply watch.
One leaf arrives.
And then another.
Some drift slowly.
Some quickly disappear around the bend.
You are the observer.
Not the river.
Not the leaves.
Only the quiet awareness watching everything move.
Perhaps for just this moment.
You begin to notice that awareness itself has never been overwhelmed.
Awareness simply witnesses.
Spacious.
Steady.
Unchanging.
Now gently invite an intention into your heart.
In Yoganidra,
This is known as a sankalpa.
It is not something you must believe completely.
But a gentle direction for your heart.
Perhaps your intention is.
.
.
I am safe to rest.
Or my mind can soften.
Or I release what I no longer need to carry.
Or perhaps another quiet truth naturally arises within you.
Whatever words come,
Repeat them silently to yourself three times.
Slowly.
With sincerity.
Like planting a tiny seed in rich soil.
No need to force it to grow.
Simply trust that the seed knows what to do.
Allow your awareness to travel to your right hand.
As we scan through the body,
Not moving.
Only noticing.
Become aware of your right thumb.
Second finger.
Third finger.
Fourth finger.
Little finger palm of the hand.
Back of the hand.
Rest.
Forearm.
Elbow.
Upper arm.
Shoulder.
Right underarm.
Right side of the chest.
Right side of the waist.
Right hip.
Right side.
Knee.
Lower leg.
Ankle.
Heal sole of the foot.
Top of the foot.
Big toe.
Second toe.
Third toe.
Fourth toe.
Little toe.
Feel the entire right side of your body resting together.
Heavy.
Support it.
Completely at ease.
As you rest in this spacious awareness,
Begin to notice how different it feels from thinking.
Thinking is often fast.
It searches.
It analyzes.
It compares.
It tries to predict.
It tries to protect.
And while there is wisdom in the thinking mind.
It was never meant to carry the whole of your life alone.
There is another way of knowing.
A quieter knowing.
A knowing that doesn't rush.
A knowing that doesn't demand answers.
A knowing that arises when there is enough stillness to hear it.
Now move your awareness to your left hand.
Become aware of the left thumb.
Second finger.
3rd finger Fourth finger little finger palm of the hand.
Back of the hand.
Rest.
Forearms.
Elbow.
Upper arm,
Shoulder.
Left armpit.
Left side of the waist left hip.
Left thigh.
Me.
Lower leg.
Ankle.
Heal.
Soul of the Foot.
Top of the foot.
Big Toe.
Second toe.
Third toe.
Fourth toe.
Little toe.
Feel the entire left side of the body resting together.
Heavy.
Support it.
Completely at ease.
Now begin to imagine that you're sitting beside a perfectly still lake.
The surface of the water is smooth.
Undisturbed.
So still that it reflects the sky like a mirror.
When the water is stirred by wind,
It becomes difficult to see beneath the surface.
But when the water is allowed to become still,
Everything becomes clear.
Not because anything has changed beneath the surface.
Only because the movement has softened.
Your mind is much the same.
Clarity does not come from thinking harder.
Often clarity arrives when there is finally enough quiet.
Take a slow and easy breath.
Imagine the inhale moving like a gentle breeze through your whole body.
Imagine the exhale creating more and more space within you.
Space around your emotions.
Space around your experiences.
Nothing needs to disappear.
There is simply more room.
More compassion.
More ease.
Notice the sensations in your body.
Perhaps there is warmth.
Coolness.
Heaviness.
Lightness,
Tingling.
Or perhaps very little sensation at all.
Whatever you notice is welcome Nothing needs to be different.
This practice is not about creating a particular experience.
Rather,
It's about becoming deeply intimate with the experience that is already here.
Meeting yourself exactly as you are without judgement.
Without resistance.
With kindness.
Bring your awareness to the gentle beating of your heart.
You may not hear it.
You may not feel it clearly Yet you know it is there faithfully keeping rhythm.
Moment after moment.
Imagine your heart surrounded by a warm golden light.
Not bright.
Not overwhelming.
Just soft.
Comforting.
Study.
With every inhale,
This gentle light grows just a little wider.
It fills your chest.
Your shoulders.
Your arms.
It moves through your belly.
Your hips.
Your legs.
Flowing effortlessly all the way to your feet.
Then rising again through your spine.
You're next.
Your face the crown of your head.
Until your entire body is resting inside this quiet golden glow.
A light that asks nothing of you.
A light that simply reminds you.
You are already enough.
If a thought arises now,
Notice it with tenderness.
Perhaps silently saying,
Thinking.
And then gently returning your awareness to the breath.
Or the warm.
For the quiet.
No frustration.
No disappointment.
Every return is the practice.
Every return strengthens your ability to rest.
Imagine now that your thoughts are like birds flying across the sky.
Some are small.
Some large.
Some fly alone.
Others arrive in flocks.
You don't ask them to stay.
You don't ask them to leave.
You simply watch them pass overhead.
Eventually,
Every bird disappears beyond the horizon.
Every thought moves on.
Even the ones that once seemed impossible to let go of.
Allow yourself now to experience a few moments where nothing needs your attention.
You No decisions.
Planning.
No preparing.
Only this breath.
This body.
This quiet moment.
If the mind begins moving again.
Thank you for trying to help.
And then lovingly guide yourself home once more.
Again.
And again.
Without effort.
Without criticism.
With endless patience.
Now gently bring back the intention you planted earlier in the practice.
Whatever words you chose.
Allow them to rise naturally.
Repeating them silently three times.
Not as something you hope will happen someday.
But as a truth that is already beginning to take root within you.
Like a seed resting beneath the soil.
Growing quietly.
Even when you cannot see it yet.
For the next few moments,
There is nothing for me to say.
Simply rest in peace.
Held by your breath.
Held by the earth.
Held by awareness.
As you continue resting here,
Notice how the body continues to breathe without your effort.
The inhale arrives.
The exhale departs.
Again.
And again.
Life continues to move through you with remarkable intelligence.
There is so much that is happening within you without your needing to think about it.
Your heart continues its steady rhythm.
Let your lungs receive each breath.
Your cells repair.
Your nervous system responds to moments of safety.
Your body remembers how to heal when it is given the opportunity to rest.
Perhaps for a long time you have believed that healing comes from doing more.
Thinking more.
Learning more.
Trying harder.
Holding everything together.
Yet here you are.
Doing almost nothing at all.
And still something within you is gently reorganizing itself.
Returning toward balance.
Returning toward ease.
Imagine now that you are wrapped in a warm,
Comforting blanket.
Not a blanket made of fabric.
But one woven from compassion.
Understanding.
Acceptance.
It asks nothing of you.
It does not expect you to be more productive.
More organized,
More certain.
It simply surrounds you with a quiet message.
You have carried enough for today.
Allow those words to settle.
You have carried enough for today.
Not forever.
Not every responsibility.
Just for today You are allowed to set things down.
You're allowed to pause.
You are allowed to be cared for,
Even if only by this moment.
Notice if there is any place in your body that still feels as though it is holding on perhaps your forehead.
Your jaw.
Your shoulders.
Your belly wherever you notice even the slightest tension.
Imagine breathing directly into that space.
Not to make it disappear.
Only to acknowledge it.
As though saying gently,
I see you.
You don't have to protect me quite so much right now.
I am here.
Sometimes the body softens.
When it finally feels understood.
Now imagine that with every exhale the edges of your body become just a little softer.
Not disappearing.
Simply less defined.
As though you are resting in perfect harmony with everything around you.
The air touching your skin.
The surface supporting your body.
The sounds in the room.
The quiet spaces between those sounds.
Nothing separate.
Nothing needing to be resisted.
Everything simply existing together.
Become aware of the spacious sky above.
Infinite.
Open.
Boundless.
Notice the sky never argues with the weather.
Never resist the clouds.
It never clings to sunshine.
It allows every season to move through.
Your awareness can become like this.
Thoughts may come.
Emotions may come.
Moments of joy.
Moments of uncertainty.
They are all visitors.
None of them define the vastness of who you are.
You are far greater than any single thought.
Far greater than any difficult day.
Far greater than the stories your mind tells when it is tired.
Perhaps there has been a part of you that believed overthinking was keeping you safe.
Trying to prevent mistakes.
Trying to prepare for every possibility.
Trying to make sure nothing was forgotten.
Take a moment now to silently thank that part of yourself.
It has been working so hard.
Not because it wanted to exhaust you.
But because it wanted to protect you.
Offer it gratitude.
And gently let it know.
You can rest now.
I am safe in this moment.
You don't have to carry everything alone.
Notice what happens inside as you offer these words.
There is no right response.
Only curiosity.
Only kindness.
Allow yourself to become aware of the silence beneath every sound.
Even now there are sounds around you.
Perhaps distant traffic.
The hum of a fan.
Birds outside.
The sound of my voice.
And beneath it all,
Silence.
Always present.
Waiting patiently.
In much the same way.
Beneath every thought.
Or a stillness.
It has never left you.
It has only been covered.
Now.
You're remembering how to return to it.
Remain here for a few more quiet breaths.
Doing nothing.
Needing nothing.
Simply resting in the deep wisdom of awareness itself.
Begin to deepen your awareness just slightly.
Not rushing to leave this peaceful place.
Simply noticing that your breath is becoming a little more vibrant.
A little more alive.
Feel the gentle movement of the inhale.
The release of the exhale.
Notice once again the weight of your body resting beneath you.
The places where you are supported.
The places where the earth continues to hold you without effort.
There is nothing you need to do to deserve this support.
It has been here all along.
Take a slow,
Nourishing breath in.
And a long easy breath out.
Again,
Breathing in.
Receiving.
Breathing out.
Releasing.
One final slow breath,
Allowing it to fill every corner of your body with softness.
As this practice begins to come to a close,
Notice if anything feels different.
Perhaps your breathing.
Perhaps your body.
Perhaps the quality of your thoughts.
Perhaps nothing feels different at all.
Every experience is welcome.
Yoganidra is not about achieving a particular state.
It's about remembering that beneath the movement of the mind there is always a place of quiet awareness.
A place you can return to again and again.
Whenever life feels overwhelming.
Whenever your thoughts become loud.
Whenever you forget that rest is available to you.
That place has always lived within you.
And it always will.
Imagine now gathering all of this ease.
This steadiness.
This spaciousness.
Into the center of your heart.
Not holding onto it tightly.
Simply allowing it to become part of you.
Something you carry gently into the rest of your day or into the softness of sleep.
Knowing that even when life becomes busy again,
You do not leave this peace behind.
It travels with you.
It lives within your body.
Within your breath.
Within your awareness Begin to notice the sounds around you once again.
The room you are resting in.
The space surrounding you.
The temperature of the air on your skin.
Notice the gentle rhythm of your breath.
The weight of your clothing or blankets.
Become aware of your fingers,
Your toes.
Without rushing,
Invite the smallest movement into them.
Perhaps wiggling your fingers.
Your toes.
Rolling your wrists.
Your ankles.
Allowing movement to return gradually.
As though waking gently from a long nourishing sleep.
Don't stretch only if your body asks for it.
Reaching through the arms.
Lengthening through the legs or perhaps simply taking one deeper breath.
If your knees are bent,
Maybe you allow them to fall softly side to side.
If it feels comfortable,
Slowly roll onto one side,
Curling into a position that feels safe and supported.
Pausing here for a few breaths.
There is no hurry.
Take this final movement to acknowledge yourself.
Or choosing to pause.
For choosing to listen.
For choosing rest in a world that so often encourages constant doing.
Remember you are not defined by how much you accomplish.
You are not measured by how much you carry.
You don't have to earn your worth through productivity.
You are worthy simply because you are here.
Breathing.
Living.
Being.
When you feel ready,
Allow yourself to rise slowly into a comfortable seat.
Or remain laying down if that's what your body needs today.
Keep your eyes soft or closed for just another moment.
Bring one hand to your heart.
Perhaps the other to your belly.
Feel the quiet rhythm of your breath beneath your hands.
Take one final slow inhale.
And a long,
Complete exhale.
May you move through the rest of your day with a quieter mind.
May you meet yourself with greater compassion.
May you remember that you do not have to solve every thought that passes through your awareness.
Like clouds across the sky like leaves upon a river.
Thoughts will come and go.
And beneath the mouth.
There is a place of quiet that has never left you.
Place of peace.
Of wisdom.
Thank you for allowing me to share this practice with you.
The practice of yoga nidra is now complete.
