The sacred circle of coming home.
Find a comfortable place to sit or lay down.
And as you prepare,
Notice how your body is supported by the earth,
A chair or a floor or any surface that you are laying or sitting on.
And remind yourself,
You don't have to hold yourself up now.
Let something steadier support you.
And as you settle,
Relax and sink into the support beneath you,
I invite you to close your eyes gently.
Let your eyelids rest,
Signal your body that you are beginning this meditation.
And take a slow breath in and release it slowly.
And just repeat your own rhythm of your breath in what you need.
And then with the out-breath,
You just let go of the things that you've carried too long.
And take a slow breath to really embrace that.
And while connecting with your breath and that rhythm,
That movement that you're longing for,
Pause here for a moment to allow yourself to notice how your body is responding to this breathing flow that you're setting up.
To this gentle beginning,
Again,
Bring your attention to your body.
Notice where you hold tension,
Maybe in your jaw,
Your shoulders,
Your belly.
And don't change anything,
Just observe like a kind of witness finally arriving after a long journey.
And remind yourself you're here now,
And that is enough,
And let that awareness settle in before we're going to move on.
You're invited in your mind to see yourself in a wide open field.
The grass is cool beneath your feet,
And the sky is fast and patient.
The air smells of earth and something ancient.
And something that has always known you is coming towards you,
It's just something that you're picking up and feeling.
You are standing at the center of this field,
Slowly and gently,
Just begin to sense it.
In this field,
We're going to connect with the four directions around you.
And forming an invisible wall of living light that is encircling and protecting you.
Imagine this as a circle marking out a safe,
Sacred space just for you.
This is your sacred circle,
A symbol of protection and a cycle of life.
An ancient way of understanding the world as interconnecting as whole.
And today,
The animals will step forward as guardians.
And they are not here to test you,
But to remind you of your inner knowledge,
Which may feel hidden beneath the effort of always holding things together.
Let's turn to face east.
Feel a golden dawn light rising before you,
Soft and new.
The color of honey and promises.
From the east comes the eagle.
She descends slowly,
Her great wings catching the morning air.
And she lands before you with grace and stillness.
She carries the medicine of clear sight.
She sees from high above,
And she sees you.
She looks at you with these ancient amber eyes.
And she asks,
Without words,
Simply through her gaze,
What truth have you been afraid to see about yourself?
And just breathe in and let it land like feathers on still water.
You are not required to act.
You are not required to feel fine.
Just receive what wants to present itself.
And then take a moment to thank the eagle and feel her rise back into the golden light of dawn,
Leaving you more awake than before.
And we now face to the south.
Feel the warmth rising here,
A noontime sun,
Full and generous and unashamed of its own brightness.
From the south comes the mare,
A chestnut mare,
Her coat the color of autumn fire,
Her mane loose and wild.
And she walks towards you,
Unhurried,
Unperforming.
She is not here to jump,
She is not here to impress.
She is simply holy herself.
She stops before you and breathes warm air into your hands.
She carries the medicine of authentic feeling.
She knows what it's to hold anxiety in the belly,
To feel the world shift like pressure in the air,
And not knowing how to say,
This is too much for me today.
She lowers her great head and touches her forehead to yours.
And in that stillness,
She whispers what she has learned.
Your feelings are not a burden.
They are the most honest thing about you.
Nourish yourself.
Tend to your belly,
Your heart.
You cannot pour from an empty trough.
Place your hand on your own heart and feel its beating,
Steady,
Faithful,
Yours.
This heart has been working so hard.
It deserves your attention.
It deserves your tenderness.
And then take a moment to thank this beautiful chestnut mare and watch her walk back into the world's southern light,
Till lifted like a flag of quiet courage.
And now we faced the West.
Feel the light softening here.
Golden and amber,
The hour of dusk,
Of reflection,
Of releasing the day.
From the West comes the otter.
She slips from a silver river at the edge of your circle,
Shaking for water from her fur.
And she looks up to you with bright,
Curious eyes,
Full of something rare and pure delight.
A being alive.
She carries the medicine of self-nourishment,
Of play without apology,
Of tending to one's own joy as though it were sacred.
Because it is.
She dives and resurfaces.
She does not apologize for needing water.
She does not apologize for needing to swim.
And she asks you,
Bubbling with gentle mischief,
When did you last do something simply because it nourished you?
Not because it was useful.
Not because it helped someone else.
But because it fed the quiet animal of your soul.
And let that question move through you like water through rivers.
You are allowed to be nourished.
You are allowed to care deeply for yourself.
Receiving is not selfish.
It is how we remain whole.
Enough to love and care for ourselves and others.
Just take a moment to thank the otter and watch her slip back into the silver western waters,
Her joy still shimmering on the surface long after she is gone.
And now let's turn to the north.
Here the light is deep blue,
The blue of midnight,
Of deep earth,
Of ancient knowing.
Stars flicker at the edge of this darkness,
Like the eyes of ancestors who have been watching over you all along.
And from the north comes the bear.
She moves slowly,
Powerfully,
Without urgency.
She has nothing to prove.
She is the keeper of deep rest and sacred boundaries.
She sits before you like a mountain made of worm,
And she simply holds space.
Something you so rarely let anyone do for you.
The bear knows about winter,
About going inward,
About the profound wisdom of saying,
This season I am not available for everything.
This season I am resting,
I am tending to myself,
And I am preparing from the inside out to bloom again.
She places one great warm paw gently on your chest.
And she speaks from a place that is older than language.
You are not obligated to exhaust yourself for love.
The one who truly loves you do not need you to disappear for them.
Rest is not failure.
Boundaries are not walls.
They are sacred edges of who you are.
Let yourself be held in this northern darkness for just a moment.
Not performing.
Not explaining.
Just being.
Breathing into your belly and letting it soften.
Let you thank the bear.
Feel her warmth remain even as she slowly goes back into the deep northern night.
And as you are standing again at the center of the sacred circle,
Eagle's clarity in your eyes,
The mare's courage in your heart,
The otter's joy in your hand,
And the bear's wisdom is in your bones.
All four directions breathing around you.
All four guardians are watching over you.
Place both hands on your heart.
And say these words silently or aloud.
However they wish to come.
I do not abandon myself to be loved.
My feelings belong here.
My needs belong here.
I'm allowed to come home to myself.
Again and again.
As many times as it takes.
And slowly begin to feel the ground beneath you again.
The weight of your body.
And the rise and fall of your breath.
Wiggle your fingers.
Your toes.
And slowly let the ordinary world return gently.
Like morning coming slowly through the curtains.
And when you are ready,
Open your eyes.
And carry this message with you.
Not as another standard to perfect,
But as a seed of self-nourishment towards you.
And just plant it into your heart.
And take good care of it.
The circle is built.
The animals have spoken.
And you are held.
Welcome home.
And welcome back.
