Yoga nidra: Small intestine meridian

Session text to read

Lie down on your back. Let your legs fall gently apart, your arms rest a little away from your sides, palms facing upward. Close your eyes softly. Allow the floor to hold you completely. You do not need to hold yourself up. Not now.

Take one slow breath in through your nose, and let it go without effort. Again. With each breath out, feel yourself settling a little more deeply into stillness.

Bring to your mind a single, quiet intention. Let it be simple and true. Repeat it inwardly, with full attention:

I trust my own clarity.

Say it once more, gently, as if placing it at the centre of your chest.

Now begin to move your awareness through the body. Simply notice each place as it is named. Nothing to change, nothing to fix.

The thumb of your right hand. Index finger. Middle finger. Ring finger. Little finger. The back of your right hand. The palm. The inner wrist. The outer wrist.

Move now along the inner forearm, all the way to the inner elbow. The outer elbow. The back of the upper arm. The outer shoulder. The shoulder blade on the right side. The base of the neck on the right.

Now trace the path of the small intestine meridian as it travels upward — along the side of the neck, the jaw, in front of the ear, and gently to the cheekbone just below the outer eye.

Pause here. Notice the right side of your face. The right eye, soft in its socket. The right temple. The right ear.

Now the left side. The cheekbone. The jaw. The side of the neck. The outer shoulder on the left. The shoulder blade. The back of the upper arm. The outer elbow. The inner elbow. The left forearm. The left wrist, inner and outer. The palm of the left hand. Little finger. Ring finger. Middle finger. Index finger. Thumb.

Both hands resting now. Both arms. Both shoulders. The whole back of the body released into the ground beneath you.

Bring your awareness to the breath. Do not change it. Simply watch. Notice the small pause after the inhale, before the exhale begins. And the stillness after the exhale, before the next breath arrives. In that stillness, nothing is needed. Everything is already here.

Now allow an image to form behind your closed eyes. You are standing at the edge of a field in high summer. The sky above you is a deep, blazing blue. The sun is directly overhead, warm and absolute. Everything in this light is seen clearly — every blade of grass, every shadow, every edge. There is nowhere to hide, and no need to.

In your hands you hold two objects. You do not need to name them. You simply feel their weight. One feels right. One does not. You already know which is which. You have always known. You set one down gently on the warm earth. You keep the other close to your chest.

The fire of midsummer does not burn everything. It illuminates. It separates what nourishes from what does not. It asks you, quietly and without judgment: *What do you actually need?

Rest here for a moment in that bright, honest light.

Now bring your sankalpa back. Let it rise naturally, as if it were always there, waiting beneath the noise:

I trust my own clarity.

Feel it settling into the body. Into the chest, the hands, the eyes.

Begin, slowly, to return. Become aware of the weight of your body against the floor. Notice the temperature of the air on your skin. Let your fingers begin to move, just a little. Your toes. Take a deeper breath, and let it go.

When you are ready, bring your knees gently towards your chest. Roll slowly onto your right side, and rest there for a breath or two. There is no hurry.

In your own time, using your hands, press yourself up to sitting. Keep your eyes closed a little longer if you wish. Let the world come back to you gradually, on your own terms.

You may open your eyes now.