Begin by noticing that you have arrived,
Here,
Now.
Look around your room,
And using your eyes,
Maybe trace the edge of where the wall meets the ceiling,
From corner to corner,
Sensing the space you are in.
Perhaps there's an invitation to let your body settle,
Whatever settling means to you right now.
There's no right way to be here,
No need to perform or strive.
You don't need to fix anything.
You don't need to become anything.
You are already worthy of this moment,
Exactly as you are,
Allowing your breath to flow naturally.
Notice what it feels like to be supported from underneath,
By the ground or surface you are on,
And from within,
By your breath.
Gently close your eyes,
If that feels safe,
Or soften your gaze,
And repeat quietly to yourself,
Show me the miracles I cannot yet see,
But that I am learning to receive.
Let that intention float gently in the background,
Like a soft hum swimming in the air,
And now ask yourself,
What would be most helpful for me right now?
Let the question land without needing an answer,
And then ask,
How can I show myself care and compassion?
You might place a hand on your heart,
Or somewhere on your body that feels grounding.
Feel into what arises,
Even if it's silence,
Just let it be intuitive,
Let it come to you.
And you don't have to do anything,
You are allowed to simply just be,
And I'll be quiet for a moment to give you some space to reflect.
In a world that tells us we need to earn love,
Earn rest,
Earn our place,
It is radical to say,
I am enough here and now,
And as we shift the inner lens from the external world to the internal world,
Let yourself notice the tiny moments of enjoyment throughout your day,
The glimmers as they're sometimes called,
The subtle feelings that arise in the background when you're not chasing a goal,
The quiet spaces where your heart feels most like home,
Maybe when you're reading,
Or cooking,
Or looking at your pet.
These moments are worth something more valuable than money can buy.
You don't have to share them with anyone,
You don't have to prove them,
They are real because you are experiencing them.
And take a moment now to imagine a bird in the early morning light,
Not in flight,
Not in song,
Just resting perched on a branch,
Its feathers warmed by the sun.
Notice how the bird does not ask,
Have I done enough today to deserve this pause?
It doesn't worry about being seen or how it compares to other birds,
Its stillness is not a problem to fix.
It is a part of the natural rhythm of things.
What would it be like to rest like the bird held by something larger,
Unmeasured,
And unquestioned?
And just let this image settle into your body.
Let your breath move like wind through leaves,
Effortless and free.
In nature,
Contentment is not something to earn,
It is merely built into the design of things.
And you too belong to that design.
Happiness may be fleeting,
A reaction to something good,
But contentment is steady.
We understand contentment by how it lives deeper in the body.
It waits for you to remember it.
It doesn't force you to see it.
It's in the allowing that contentment says,
I am allowed to rest even if I haven't produced something.
Contentment says I don't have to produce something to be valuable and worthy of my own attention.
Contentment says my piece is not up for negotiation.
And while contentment does take effort,
Especially in a world that thrives on capturing your attention,
You're not here to prove anything.
You're here to simply feel,
To be in relationship with yourself.
As you breathe,
Imagine contentment as something that already exists within you.
Not something to chase,
Just something to uncover.
Tune in to your felt sense and inner experience now.
And listen to these next six phrases and note which ones feel resonant.
I breathe contentment into my heart.
I trust that my life is unfolding in my best interest.
I accept myself exactly as I am and I give myself permission to grow.
I receive from both expected and unexpected sources.
I invite action that feels good to my body and soul,
Not just that looks good.
I am enough even when I am still.
Resting into enoughness now.
Let your body lean into this quiet inner knowing.
You don't need to grasp or strive any more from here to prove that you are worthy of paying attention to what is in front of you.
You don't need to become more to be supported by the space you are in.
You are part of the rhythm of things unfolding in time.
A bird seated on a branch.
If it feels right,
Let your hands soften.
Perhaps even fall open beside you.
Empty,
Unguarded,
Receptive.
In wisdom traditions,
Empty hands do not mean lack.
They are a gesture most ready to receive.
Receive the ground beneath you.
Receive the breath moving through you.
Receive your life,
Not as a project to fix,
But as a mystery to gently welcome.
And maybe repeat again,
Quietly to yourself,
Show me the miracles I cannot yet see,
But that I am learning to receive.
Show me the miracles I cannot yet see,
But that I am learning to receive.
When you are ready,
Gently return to your space,
To your day.
Wiggle your fingers or toes.
Blink your eyes open,
Slowly.
And lift your gaze.
Welcome back.
Let yourself carry this quiet contentment into the rest of your day.
Many blessings.
