I'm Stephen Webb and welcome to What Arises.
So just find a comfortable place to sit,
Whether you're lying down or sitting,
Whatever your body is asking for,
And when you're ready,
Let your eyes close,
Or just soften your gaze,
Letting them rest just a few feet in front of you.
No focus,
Just rest.
And let's begin where we always start,
With the body.
Feel the weight of yourself,
Wherever you're resting,
The chair,
The bed or the floor.
Feel the surface holding you.
You don't have to adjust anything.
You don't have to sit up straighter or relax all your shoulders.
You don't have to do anything that you think meditation requires.
Just feel yourself be held.
And now gently just let the body begin to soften.
Start with the face,
The muscles around the eyes,
Your jaw.
Notice if it's clenched at all,
Just let it loosen.
Down through the neck,
The shoulders.
Let the shoulders drop.
They've been carrying things all week.
They can put them down for a few minutes.
Down through your chest,
The belly.
Let your belly be soft.
Let it rise and fall without you managing it.
Down through your hips,
Your legs and your feet.
Just a gentle wave of permission moving through the whole body.
You can hold it all again later.
For now,
Just let it all go.
And now just notice your breathing.
You don't need to change it.
Your body already knows exactly how to breathe.
It's been doing it beautifully without your help since the moment you arrived.
Just notice the rhythm,
The in,
The out,
The tiny pause between them.
The little gap where nothing is happening at all.
Rest your attention wherever you feel the breath most clearly.
It could be the nose,
The chest,
The belly.
And just stay there with it,
Like sitting by a river watching it flow.
You're not the river.
You're not trying to change the river.
You're just here watching.
Now I want you to try something gently.
You don't have to work at this.
Just let the question arrive and see what happens.
Is there something in you that's been dormant?
Not something wrong,
Not a problem.
Just something that went quiet.
Something that used to be alive in you.
Energy,
Curiosity,
Tenderness,
Joy,
Creativity,
Hope.
Something that's just been sleeping for a while.
You don't have to name it precisely.
You don't have to understand it.
Just notice there's a sense of something that's been resting.
Underground,
Out of sight,
Waiting.
You don't have to go to the story with it.
Just recognize what it is.
And whatever comes up,
Or if nothing comes up,
That's fine too.
Just be with it.
The way you'd be with a garden early spring.
You wouldn't dig up the bulbs to check if they're growing.
You'd just sit nearby and trust that something is happening underneath.
Now I want you to imagine something.
Very simply,
Very gently.
Imagine a patch of dark earth.
Winter earth.
It's been cold for a long time.
The surface is bare.
Nothing seems to be happening.
And then,
So slowly you almost missed it,
A tiny green shoot pushes through.
Just the tip,
Barely visible.
Fragile,
But unmistakably alive.
It didn't need anyone's permission to appear.
It didn't need to be perfect or fully formed.
It just rose.
Now let that image settle in your chest.
In the heart space.
And consider the possibility that something like that is happening in you.
Right now.
Not dramatic,
Not loud.
Just a quiet beginning that you might not have noticed just yet.
You don't have to do anything with this.
That's the key thing.
You don't have to pull the shoot up faster.
You don't have to understand where it's going or what it's doing.
You just have to let it be there.
The breath is still moving in and out.
And with each breath,
You can imagine warmth reaching down into the soil.
Not forcing anything.
Just warmth.
Just light.
Just the quiet conditions that allow things to grow in their own time.
Let thoughts come,
Let them come.
They're just weather passing through.
The shoot doesn't mind the weather.
It grows anyway.
And so does whatever is waking up in you.
Spring is beginner's mind visible.
Every blossom is seeing the world for the first time.
Every new leaf is a first leaf.
The season doesn't remember last year's spring.
It just begins again,
Completely new.
Completely itself.
The freshness is being here,
Right now.
With nothing to prove and nowhere to go.
And now gently I want you to widen your attention one more time.
Beyond your body,
Beyond this room.
Outside,
Wherever you can see it or not.
Spring is happening.
Light is lasting longer and the air is shifting.
Things that have been dormant all winter are beginning to stir.
Birds are returning.
Flowers are opening.
Somewhere nearby a tree that looked dead three weeks ago is putting out its first tiny leaves.
None of it is in a hurry.
None of it is trying to arrive.
It's just arriving.
Quietly.
Certainly.
In its own time.
The daffodil is not trying to compete with another daffodil.
It's just blooming anyway.
It doesn't complain,
It's beside the road,
It blooms anyway.
And you are part of that.
Not separate from it.
Not watching from the outside.
You are part of it.
Your body knows the same rhythms as the trees and the birds.
Your body knows the same rhythms as the trees and the birds.
And now gently let's begin to come back.
Let the images go.
The shoot,
The garden,
The spring.
Let them dissolve like fresh air.
Come back to the body.
Your body,
The weight of it,
The warmth of it.
The simple quiet fact of being here and breathing alive.
I'm going to count back from five down to one.
And with each number let yourself return a little more to the room,
To the morning,
To the day ahead.
But carry something with you.
A sense of something arising.
Something returning.
Something you don't have to force.
So five,
Just feeling the body again.
Four,
Notice the space around you.
Three,
Gently move your fingers and toes.
Bringing that little energy back into your hands and feet.
Two,
Taking a slightly deeper breath.
Feeling the subtle flurry onto the present moment.
And one,
When you're ready just gently open your eyes and look at whatever is in front of you.
Something that you've never seen before because it's always different every time you see it.
Not in this light.
Not in this moment.
Not in this version of yourself.
Everything always changes.
So welcome back and happy spring.
Thank you for being here.
These meditations exist because of kind people who support the work with a small donation.
Thank you,
Genuinely,
To everyone who does that.
And to all you listeners,
Please leave a review.
Please have a peaceful day.
Until next time,
Stay open,
Let things grow and be kind to yourself.
Thank you for your support.
