Settle your body.
Not by fixing it,
But by letting it be held by whatever you're resting on.
Feel the quiet weight of yourself meeting the surface beneath you.
That gentle pressure,
That permission to stop holding everything up and let your breath move you and out.
There is something intimate about this.
Being with yourself,
Without asking for more,
And bring attention to your breath,
Not to change it,
Just noticing how it moves you from the inside.
And notice beneath the breath a place in you that wants.
Not urgently,
Not desperately,
Just honestly.
Wanting doesn't live in the mind,
It lives in the body as warmth,
As pull,
As a quiet ache under the skin.
Let it be there.
And let me share a story with you.
There was once a bird who lived near a wide river.
Every day it stood at the edge,
Watching the water move toward open sky.
And as you breathe,
Notice where are you standing at an edge like that?
Where are you close,
But not crossing?
No need to answer,
Just feel.
You see,
The bird in my story wanted the other side,
The trees,
The warmth,
The way the light landed there.
It could almost feel it on its feathers,
Just by watching.
And maybe you know that feeling,
That almost touch,
That longing that lives just beneath the surface.
But the bird was afraid,
Afraid the wind would fail it mid-flight.
Afraid of the moment between leaving and arriving,
That suspended moment,
No ground.
Notice how your body responds to that place.
So the bird waited.
And if you're honest,
Haven't you waited too?
For clarity,
For certainty,
For the moment when fear finally loosens its grip before you do.
And while the bird waited,
The seasons changed,
The air shifted,
The light moved across the water,
But the river never did.
You see,
Fear is like that river.
It doesn't disappear on its own.
It doesn't soften just because you understand it.
Fear stays until you move.
Bring one hand to your chest.
Feel the warmth there,
The steady rhythm.
This is the part of you that wants,
The part that's been patient,
The part that's been quiet.
And the bird wasn't weak,
It wasn't broken,
It wasn't failing.
It was waiting for safety in a world that only offers aliveness.
And maybe,
Just maybe,
You've been doing the same.
For the next few minutes,
You don't need to do anything.
If the mind wanders,
Let it.
If something stirs,
Let it.
You don't need to follow it.
You don't need to stop it.
Just stay.
And let silence be the air beneath your wings.
Notice what stayed with you when no one was speaking.
Notice what softened.
Notice what stirred.
And notice what didn't need words.
Fear speaks fast.
Desire speaks slow.
You don't have to outrun fear.
You only have to stop letting it set the pace.
So remember this rhythm.
Let it move you.
Fear tightens.
Desire expands.
Fear waits.
Desire moves.
Fear protects the past.
Desire reaches for the life that's calling you.
One last time,
Quietly,
Inwardly.
Fear tightens.
Desire expands.
And when you rise,
You don't have to fly all at once.
You only have to lean forward instead of standing still.
May your mind,
Body,
And spirit be abundant with peace and courage today and every day.
Until we meet again,
My friend,
Namaste.
