Come.

Sit here with me for a while.

You don’t have to do anything right now — no effort, no striving.

Just breathe, the way the trees breathe, without thinking about it.

Let the noise of the day fall away, like old leaves.

And when you’re ready, listen — not with your ears, but with the deeper part of

you that has been listening all along:

From the stillness before all beginnings, may your awareness rise again like the hidden river that flows beneath all things.

You may have forgotten that river.

You may have walked a thousand miles away from it.

But it never forgot you. It never left you.

Take a breath and feel it, somewhere deep inside —

quiet, steady, ancient.

Awaken now, not into something new, but into what you have always been —

a vastness without end, a love beyond all counting.

Here, sorrow has no teeth.

Here, old wounds are not forgotten — they are healed, made into stars that light your path.

Where grief loses its name,

and every wound becomes part of the wholeness you already are.

Let yourself fall into it —

not to escape the world, but to remember who you were before the world told you who to be.

You are not broken.

You were never broken.

You are the river, and the river is you.

Rest now, beloved.

Breathe.

Remember.

Return.

Nigel Lott teaandzen.org

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