It gets dark so early this time of year.
Sometimes it's dark before you've even finished the day.
So for the next six minutes, we're going to let some light back in.
Sit or lie down, whatever your body wants.
Let your eyes close.
Let your hands rest wherever they land.
Now ask yourself, quietly...
where am I most tired right now?
It might be your eyes.
Your shoulders.
Your lower back.
It might be somewhere that isn't really in the body at all, like your
heart, or your patience.
Whatever comes up, just notice it.
You don't need to fix it yet.
Let's breathe for a moment first.
Breathe in through your nose...
slow and full.
breathe out through your mouth...
like fogging up a cold window.
In again...
letting the belly rise.
And out...
a little longer this time.
One more breath in...
feeling the cool air at the tip of your nose.
And out...
letting your shoulders sink half an inch.
Now picture a soft, warm light just above your head.
Not harsh.
More like a lamp left on for you in a window.
It's white, with a bit of gold in it.
And it's warm, the way a mug of tea is warm in your hands.
Slowly, it starts to pour down.
Over the top of your head.
Over your forehead.
Your eyes soften under it.
It slides down over your cheeks and your jaw.
If your teeth are pressed together, let them come apart a little.
Now let the light go looking for that tired place you found earlier.
Let it settle there.
Just rest on it, the way a warm hand rests on a sore spot.
You don't have to push it in.
Light doesn't need pushing.
It just arrives and stays.
Some hurts are old, and some are from this week.
The light doesn't sort them.
It warms them all the same.
If there's another tired place, let the light move there next.
The back of your neck, maybe.
Or the space behind your ribs.
And if your mind drifts off to the shopping, or the list, or someone
you're worried about...
that's alright.
Minds do that.
Just come back to the warmth.
Let the light drift down through your arms, into your hands.
Your palms might feel warmer.
Maybe they don't.
Either is fine.
Down through
your belly...
your hips...
your legs...
all the way to the soles of your feet.
Now there's light all through you.
Not just sitting on the surface.
Inside.
Like a house on a snowy street at night, with every window lit.
Let a few words sit in that glow.
Just repeat them to yourself, if you like.
I am allowed to rest.
There is still light in me.
I can heal slowly, and that's okay.
I don't have to carry every heavy thing at once.
Stay here for a little while.
Warm and lit up, while the snow comes down outside.
Your breath can go in and out on its own now.
Before we finish, I want you to keep a small piece of this.
Just a spark.
Picture it tucked somewhere safe.
Behind your breastbone,
maybe.
About the size of a candle It flame.
doesn't weigh anything, so you can take it On everywhere.
the gray afternoons this when month, it's dark at four and you're running you
low,
can close your eyes for one breath and find it again.
Now start to wiggle your Roll fingers.
your shoulders.
Let a little movement come back.
When you're ready, open your eyes slowly.
The room might look a bit softer.
Take that with you.