In this final session, we return to the theme that has quietly run underneath the whole series: trust.
So much of modern life teaches us to outsource trust — to doctors, to experts, to the next opportunity, to some distant future where everything will finally make sense. Over time, we learn to mistrust what arises from within, as though our own experience needs external permission to be true.
This practice is our gentle course-correction.
We come back to the simplest place: lying on the ground with nothing to perform and nothing to fix. The ego can’t easily capitalise on this — there’s no technique to perfect, no achievement to chase — so the mind grumbles a little and then begins to soften.
From there, we explore vagal breathing together: an inhale through the nose, followed by a slow, vocalised exhale. A sigh, a hum, a soft line of breath — whatever feels natural. This vocal exhale is something the body already understands. It’s hardwired. It’s the sound of relief we make without thinking.
For four minutes, we breathe like this — or pause when we need to — and we tune into the playfulness of the practice rather than the perfection of it. Children would do this without a second thought: humming, yawning, hissing, experimenting.
There’s no right way.
Just sensation and curiosity.
We finish by coming back to the whole body on the ground: heels, hips, mid-back, shoulder blades, arms, and the weight of the head.
A quiet check-in:
Has the dial moved?
Is the anxiety still here, but with less bite? Has something softened, even slightly?
The point isn’t to eliminate discomfort.
It’s to be in a kinder, warmer relationship with it.
To let the body know that unease can exist without running the show.
We close the practice with a simple warmth:
Maybe the anxiety is still present, but maybe it’s not bullying us anymore.
Maybe it’s just part of life — something we can meet from the ground, with trust.
