I love,
I'm so glad you're here,
Wherever you are on a lunch break,
Walking through the grocery store,
Hiding in the bathroom for a breath of space.
This moment is enough.
You are enough.
Let's take a breath together in through the nose and out with a little sound if you like even a tiny exhale of relief.
Now again,
Inhale gently and let it go.
This meditation is your permission slip to laugh.
No promises,
I'll be the one making you laugh,
But yes,
Even now,
Even if things are heavy,
Even if the world feels like a lot,
Even if you're not sure you deserve to.
Laughter is not a betrayal of seriousness.
It's a medicine for it.
Let's start by softening the face.
Notice your cheeks,
Your jaw.
Is there a tightness there?
Can you invite in the possibility of a smile,
Not forced,
Just a whisper of one?
Can you remember the last time something made you laugh unexpectedly?
That sensation of it bubbling up,
That brief freedom.
You are allowed to feel that again.
You don't have to stay in the hardest part of the story.
Laughter doesn't erase anything,
But it does remind us that there's more.
You're not irresponsible for needing lightness.
You're human.
And sometimes laughter is what breaks that spell of tension.
Sometimes it's what opens the door again when we've been stuck too long in silence.
Maybe right now you feel a chuckle rising.
Maybe not.
Either way,
You are allowed to be light.
Now,
If it feels good,
Place a hand somewhere playful.
Maybe your belly or your collarbone.
Let that hand say,
I remember joy.
I remember levity.
I welcome delight.
Let's seal it with an affirmation.
Laughter is allowed here.
I don't have to be serious to be whole.
I give myself permission to laugh.
Breathe in that truth.
Maybe wiggle your shoulders a little bit.
Shake something loose.
Or just let this moment be a gentle nudge towards levity.
The world is heavy enough.
Let your laughter be a lantern.
