Sunday Morning Guided Meditation for Rest

Good morning.

It's Sunday, November fifteenth.

Let me say this first.

You're allowed to rest today.

Not after the laundry.

Not once the inbox is clear.

Today.

You don't need an excuse.

Being tired is reason enough.

A lot of us feel guilty sitting still.

Like there's always something we should be doing.

If that guilt shows up this morning...

let it sit in the corner.

It can Find watch.

the comfiest spot you can.

The couch is good.

Or the big chair by the Grab window.

a blanket if it's chilly.

Let something hold your whole weight.

For six minutes...

you're off duty.

Take a deep breath in.

Slow and full.

And let it out.

Feel yourself sink a little.

Again.

In...

And out...

sinking a little deeper.

Into whatever holds you.

In...

slow.

Out...

the cushions take a bit more of you.

One more.

In...

And out.

Let it all settle.

Now let your breath slow down.

On its own.

You don't need to steer it.

Let's let the body go.

Piece by piece.

With something always holding it.

Your feet.

Let them go limp.

Let them flop to the sides.

Your legs.

They've done so much walking this week.

Let the couch hold them now.

Your hips and the small of your back.

Let them Like settle.

a stone settling in a riverbed.

Your belly.

Let it rise and fall.

No holding it in.

Your chest.

Soft and Your easy.

breathing is slower now.

Steady, like the rain outside.

Your hands.

Let them lie open.

They don't have to hold anything today.

Not the phone.

Not the steering wheel.

Your shoulders.

Let them melt down into the cushions.

Your neck.

Let your head be heavy.

Let the pillow do the work.

Your face.

Let your jaw hang slack.

Let your eyelids feel heavy.

Now your whole body.

All of it held.

All of it supported.

You don't have to hold yourself up.

Not right now.

All week you've been the one holding.

Holding it together.

Holding the door, the schedule, the mood.

This morning, you get held instead.

Let these words land softly.

I am allowed to rest.

Rest isn't something I have to earn.

Just rest.

The day will wait.

The rain keeps going outside.

It's no rush to stop.

have You don't to rush either.

If you doze off for a bit...

that's not failing at this.

That's exactly what rest looks like.

Maybe you can smell coffee somewhere.

Or hear the fridge humming.

Let those be the only news today.

Let yourself be a person on a couch.

On a rainy Sunday.

That's plenty.

Just this.

Warm and still.

Slowly now.

Notice the room around the couch.

Move your fingers.

Take a slow, easy stretch.

Only if you feel like it.

One soft breath in...

And out.

Here's one thing for today.

Plan one truly restful thing.

A nap at two o'clock.

Or an afternoon with a library book.

Write it down.

On a sticky note.

Or in your calendar, like an appointment.

Then keep it.

Like you would for anyone else.

If someone asks what you're doing at two...

you can tell them.

You have plans.

Open your eyes whenever you like.

Have a slow, soft Sunday.