So before we begin,
Please know that there is nothing that you need to achieve during this practice.
There's nothing that you need to do specifically.
You don't need to relax perfectly.
You don't need to clear your mind.
You don't need to breathe in any special way.
You don't need to force yourself into calm.
This is simply a space where you are allowed to rest.
And if resting feels unfamiliar,
If your nervous system stays on high alert,
Or if your mind keeps moving,
That's okay too.
You're not doing any of this wrong.
So take a moment to arrange yourself in whatever position feels most supportive and comfortable.
You might lie down,
You might sit,
You might even stand.
And you may wish to place a pillow under your knees or behind the back or under your head.
You're welcome to cover yourself with a blanket.
And if stillness becomes uncomfortable at any point,
You can move.
And if closing the eyes doesn't feel supportive,
You can soften your gaze or keep your eyes wide open.
You're always a loud choice.
And feel the support beneath you.
Noticing that something is holding your weight right now.
The floor,
The bed.
The mat.
The chair.
Or the wall.
You don't have to hold yourself up completely on your own at this moment.
And begin by simply noticing that you have arrived here.
Noticing sounds in the room or sounds farther away?
Noticing the temperature of the air,
The feeling of fabric against the skin.
The contact points where the body meets support.
There's no need to focus intensely,
Just gentle noticing.
If awareness of the breath feels grounding today,
You might notice the natural movement of breathing.
It could be the rise and fall somewhere in the body.
Or maybe the air moving at the nostrils or the mouth.
And if breath awareness does not feel supportive,
You might instead.
Focus on the weight of the body.
The feeling of warmth or coolness.
The rhythm of sounds around you.
Or simply the experience of being supported.
You may also imagine that the body is breathing itself without needing your attention.
There's nothing to control.
Nothing to deepen.
Nothing to fix.
Sometimes exhaustion comes from carrying too much for too long.
From feeling responsible for everything.
Or from trying to stay ahead of pain,
Emotions,
Uncertainty,
Or expectations.
And for the next little while,
You don't need to solve your life.
You are allowed to simply be here.
In traditional yoga nidra,
There's often a sankalpa or an intention.
And rather than striving towards change,
Perhaps we simply plant a gentle possibility.
You might silently repeat one of the following.
I don't need to carry everything right now.
Rest is allowed.
I can soften without giving up.
I am allowed to pause.
Nothing's required of me in this moment.
I can meet myself gently.
Or you might choose your own words.
And whichever intention you've chosen,
Repeat it softly in the mind once or twice.
Not as pressure.
Just as an offering.
And we'll now move our awareness through the different parts of the body.
There's nothing to feel that's special here.
Just noticing,
Imagining,
Or lightly sensing is enough.
And if any area feels difficult to connect with,
You can skip it.
You may also simply hear the words and move on.
Let's begin with the right hand,
The right thumb,
The second finger,
Third finger,
Fourth finger,
Little finger,
Palm of the hand,
Back of the hand,
Wrist,
Forearm,
Elbow,
Upper arm,
Shoulder,
Armpit,
Right side waist,
Hip,
Thigh,
Knee,
Lower leg,
Ankle,
Heel,
Sole of the foot,
Top of the foot,
Right big toe,
Second toe,
Third toe,
Fourth toe,
Little toe.
Moving to the left hand,
Starting with the left thumb,
Second finger,
Third finger,
Fourth finger,
Little finger,
Palm of the hand,
Back of the hand,
Wrist,
Forearm,
Elbow,
Upper arm,
Shoulder,
Armpit,
Left side waist,
Hip,
Thigh,
Knee,
Lower leg,
Ankle,
Heel,
Sole of the foot,
Top of the foot,
Left big toe,
Second toe,
Third toe,
Fourth toe,
Little toe.
To the back of the body,
The back of the head,
Neck,
Right shoulder blade,
Left shoulder blade,
Mid-back,
Lower back,
Pelvis,
Right glute,
Left glute,
Back of the right leg,
Back of the left leg.
To the front of the body.
The forehead.
The eyebrows.
Space between the eyebrows.
Eyes.
Cheeks.
Jaw.
Tongue.
Lips.
Throat.
Chest.
Upper abdomen.
Lower abdomen.
Pelvic bowl.
The whole right leg.
The whole left leg.
Both legs together.
The whole right arm.
The whole left arm.
Both arms together.
The whole back body.
The whole front body.
The whole body together.
Resting.
Now notice whatever rhythm is easiest to stay with.
Perhaps the breath,
Perhaps sounds.
Perhaps the feeling of the blanket.
Perhaps the pulse of the body.
And perhaps nothing specific at all.
And if counting the breath feels supportive,
You may gently count backward from 10 to 1.
I will do the countdown.
Without efforts,
Without needing to get it right.
You may simply listen,
Or imagine waves writhing and receding.
Or notice the steady support beneath you.
9.
8 7.
6.
Science.
Four.
3.
And sometimes when people are tired of trying,
Even the effort of relaxing can begin to feel like another task.
So for a moment,
Imagine setting down that effort.
There's no need to improve this moment.
You don't need to make yourself calmer.
You don't need to perform healing.
Just allowing yourself to exist exactly as you are.
And now we'll explore gentle opposites.
Not forcing emotions or sensations.
Only lightly noticing.
So you might begin by recalling the feeling of effort.
The feeling of holding things together.
Managing and trying.
Not overwhelming yourself,
But just lightly touching the experience.
And now imagine the opposite,
The feeling of setting something down.
Even briefly.
A small loosening.
A softening.
A pause.
The feeling of effort.
And then softening.
Holding everything together.
Than being held.
The feeling of pressure.
And then space.
Fatigue.
And rust.
And just noticing whatever arises naturally.
There's no correct experience.
And now if it feels supportive,
Imagine a place that represents ease,
Comfort,
Or the sense of enough.
It doesn't need to be a perfect,
Safe place.
Sometimes perfection can feel too far away.
Instead,
Perhaps it's simply a place where the nervous system can soften a little.
It could be a quiet room,
A forest path.
An ocean shore.
A hammock.
A favorite chair.
A place beside a fire.
A garden.
A memory.
Or an imagined place.
And you might notice the colors,
The textures.
The temperature.
The sounds.
The quality of light.
And perhaps there's something here that symbolizes support.
Like a blanket.
A tree?
A warm drink.
An animal.
The feeling of the earth beneath you.
The sound of rain.
Or the ocean moving steadily.
And you do not need to hold the image clearly,
Even a felt sense is enough.
And imagine this place gently whispering.
You don't have to carry everything alone.
You're allowed to pause.
You're allowed to rest before you're completely empty.
And perhaps notice what it feels like to remain here for a few moments.
And bring awareness back to the body,
Noticing the body exactly as it is today.
Whether it's tired,
Numb,
Restless.
Heavy.
Tender.
On high alert or uncertain.
There is room for all of it.
And rather than trying to change the body,
See if you can simply accompany it.
As though you're sitting beside yourself with kindness.
And you might silently say,
This is what my body feels like right now.
And I don't need to fight it in this moment.
And if there's an area that's asking for care,
Perhaps imagine breathing space around it.
And if breath imagery does not feel right,
Perhaps just imagine warmth around it,
Or softness.
Or gentle light.
Or simply more room.
There's nothing to force away,
Nothing to overcome.
Sometimes healing begins not through fixing,
But through ending the battle.
And perhaps now allow awareness to widen,
Sensing the whole body resting.
And also sensing the space around the body.
The room around you.
The air touching the skin.
And the quiet spaces between sounds.
You're not trapped inside effort right now.
There is space.
Perhaps imagining that the body is floating in a vast field of support.
Held by the givers.
Held by gravity.
Held by this moment.
And you might imagine each breath out or each softening creating a little more space around the pressure you carry.
Not erasing it,
But just making room.
And bring back the gentle intention from earlier.
Perhaps it was rest is allowed.
I can soften without giving up.
Nothing's required of me right now.
I don't need to carry everything alone.
Or your own words.
Notice how the body receives these words now.
Without forcing belief.
Just listening.
And there may still be tiredness.
There may still be pain.
There may still be uncertainty.
Perhaps there's also a little more space around it.
A little less gripping.
And a little more permission.
And if you'd like to stay here,
Please allow yourself to do so.
Otherwise,
You may begin gently returning awareness to the room.
Noticing sounds.
Temperature.
The support beneath you.
Perhaps small movements begin naturally.
Wiggling fingers and toes.
Rolling the shoulders.
Stretching if that feels okay.
And taking your time.
There's no rush to re-enter the world.
And you may wish to thank yourself for showing up,
Especially if things have felt heavy lately.
Even resting for a few moments matters.
And if your eyes were closed perhaps allowing the eyes to open or the gaze to lift.
And carrying forward only what feels supportive.
You can leave everything else behind.
You don't need to earn rest by completely depleting yourself.
Pausing is not a failure.
Softening is not a weakness.
Resting is not giving up.
Sometimes the nervous system heals not through pushing harder,
But through finally experiencing moments where nothing is being demanded of it.
And if there was anything at all that felt unsettling about this practice,
Please reach out to a trusted person or do something that feels grounding for you.
And I'd like to thank you very much for taking this time today to take care of yourself.
Namaste.
