Take a deep breath in . . .
And slowly out.
Let your shoulders drop. Let your body soften.

Now imagine:
You’re standing at the edge of a quiet harbor.
Before you, a ship waits—weathered by time, steady and sure.
The sky is overcast.
The wind is cool.
You are safe here.

Step onto the ship.
Feel the deck beneath your feet.
This vessel holds everything you carry—your questions, your regrets, your quiet grief.

Breathe in—hold it, notice the cool air that fills your lungs
Breath out—along with all burden that you carry

Turn your attention to the stern of the ship—
the place you’ve come from.

Notice what rises.
Memories.
Decisions.
Moments, you wish you could have changed.

Ask yourself gently:
“What if I had spoken?”
“What if I had stayed?”
“What if it was my fault?”
You don’t need answers.
Just notice what comes up.
Let yourself feel.
There is no rush.

Grief moves in its own time.
Guilt speaks in echoes—let them pass through you like the waves of the ocean.

Breathe.

Now turn toward the bow of the ship—
Symbolizing the path ahead.
A distant shore waits, unnamed.

The wind may be cold.
The sky may be gray.
Still, your ship is moving.

You are not stuck.
You are in motion,
even through the pain.

“The tide won’t wait. The hour is near.”
“So I hoist your grief… and stow your fear.”

Visualize the anchor lifting.
Feel the shift—the lightening.
The sorrow is still there,
but no longer holding you down.

Breathe in the salt air.
Let it carry away what no longer serves you.
Rest in this space of quiet awareness.

Inhale—hope.
Exhale—guilt.
Inhale—acceptance.
Exhale—regret.
You are still healing.
Still learning.
Still sailing.

“Though answers fade in the salt and air,
Sail on—still broken, but aware.”

When you’re ready, bring your awareness back to what surrounds you.

Wiggle your fingers.
Gently roll your shoulders.
Soothingly open your eyes.
And carry this stillness with you throughout your day.

©2025, William Arnold