Guided Meditation: Resting in the Enchanted Meadow
This guided meditation is an excerpt from one of Astari’s journals…
Tonight, a meadow in the VelvetEmerald Forest opens. Not to all, but to those who listen. If you have stumbled upon these words, then you, too, may enter. This is no ordinary place. It promises a relaxation like none you’ve ever experienced. But first—before you follow my words—you must prepare yourself.
Find somewhere comfortable and quiet. A place where you may sit or lie down without interruption. A place where shadows can rest easily and silence can breathe. Open your mind and your heart to magic.
Entering the Spell
Close your eyes. Let the noise of the familiar world fade like smoke on the wind.
You’re walking along a smooth dirt path. The trees greet you first: towering pillars of dark wood, trunks veined with glimmers that catch stray fragments of starlight. Their evergreen branches lace high above, an arching cathedral roof of leaves, where jade shadows ripple like liquid glass.
Beneath your feet, the ground absorbs your steps until you feel as though you are walking on velvet itself. Each stride sinks slightly, then rebounds, as if the earth were breathing with you.
The air smells rich—damp soil, cedar resin, and the faint perfume of deep violet night-blooming flowers, equal parts spice and sweetness.
You walk deeper. Magical lanterns appear, one by one, their light soft and orange-gold, not hung by any hand but suspended from the branches as if grown there. The warm glow leads you forward, through silence broken only by the drip of dew and the whisper of leaves.
The path bends, widening, until the forest parts.
And there it is.
The Enchanted Meadow.
It opens like a secret kept for centuries: a clearing wide and still, where flowers shimmer with faint phosphorescence—violet, indigo, pumpkin orange. Fireflies drift lazily in the air, their bodies pulsing in gentle rhythm, as though the meadow itself has a heartbeat. The sky above is endless, stars sharp as silver nails against black velvet.
At the meadow’s very center, waiting for you, lies a great flat stone. Its surface is blanketed in the softest moss you have ever known—plush, thick, impossibly downy, as though each strand has been spun by moonlight itself. It is a bed made just for you, older than time yet shaped for your body alone.
Go to it now. Lower yourself gently onto its mossy surface. Feel the cushion rise to meet you, supporting every curve, every bone, every secret ache you have carried. The stone is cool beneath, but the moss holds warmth, cradling you in the perfect balance.
Here, you rest.
The meadow sighs around you. The trees lean in protectively. The lanterns hum, the fireflies pulse, the flowers release their fragrance of clove, apple, and smoke. The night air curls over your skin like a blanket.
And for the first time in too long, your body knows: you are safe.
Close your eyes.
Listen: what do you hear? Perhaps a hum in the distance, perhaps only your own breath. Let those sounds fade, until you can almost catch the faint rustling of leaves overhead.
Breathe in deeply. The air fills your lungs, fragrant with pine, smoke, and the sweetness of overripe apples. Breathe out, and imagine your breath curling into the night as pale mist.
Notice your skin. The air is cool, brushing your cheeks like ghostly fingertips. Beneath you, the moss presses upward, plush and damp, a cushion woven from centuries of green.
Taste the night on your tongue—woodsmoke and rain, a trace of mint.
Smell the meadow: cinnamon bark, damp soil, blossoms that bloom only after midnight.
Lying in the Meadow
Lower yourself onto the moss. It adjusts to hold you, as if it has been waiting.
Above you, the trees rise tall and solemn, their trunks carved by time, their branches hung with lanterns that flicker not with fire, but with stolen starlight. Around you, flowers unfurl in slow motion, glowing faintly violet and silver, their petals trembling in the breeze.
Butterflies drift overhead, their wings etched with patterns that change each time you blink. They circle you like old friends.
Your Body Unwinds
Bring your attention to your body. Take several deep breaths. Breathe in as long as you can, and hold it for a moment. Breathe out as long as you can. Repeat.
The very top of your head: cool night air rests upon it like a crown of silver. Let any tension there dissolve and melt away.
Move down to your forehead, then your eyes: smooth the lines, soften the muscles. Let everything go slack. Your eyelids grow heavy. Breathe.
Your jaw and mouth: release the clench. Bring your chin down to your chest, and then toward the sky. Part your lips slightly. The night air tastes the slightest bit sweet on your tongue. It feels crisp in your lungs.
Neck and shoulders: breathe in, feel the silver air coil inside. Raise your shoulders up toward your ears, then back down. Your neck lengthens. Exhale, and let any burdens slide off into the moss.
Chest and heart: rise and fall with the tide of breath. Your heart beats in rhythm with the meadow. Each inhale lights your heart like a lantern; each exhale releases the shadows you no longer need.
Arms and hands: tense your biceps. When you release, your arms feel lighter. Turn your palms upward, ready to receive what the meadow offers. Perhaps a firefly alights, glowing once before it drifts away.
Stomach and hips: let your breath lift your belly to its limit, let it out, then draw your stomach inward. All sense of worry is gone. Feel the earth’s strength beneath you, cradling your hips, holding your story without judgment.
Legs, knees, calves: contract the muscles in your thighs, then move down to your calves. Let them unwind like ribbons, flowing and weightless.
Feet and toes: flex your toes, then curl them. You feel warm and safe, roots reaching down into the soil, drawing quiet power.
Rest
With breath and awareness, you have given attention to every corner of your being, piece by piece. From crown to sole, you are no longer fragments but a single constellation, shining softly. The night itself bears your weight. And at last, the whole of you lies at ease, interwoven with the meadow.
The trees sway above, their leaves whispering lullabies in a tongue you almost remember. Flowers breathe fragrance into your lungs. Lanterns glow soft as moons in the distance. Butterflies settle close, their wings stirring the air around your face
Releasing the Spell
Stay here as long as you need. The meadow will not hurry you.
When you are ready, breathe deeply once more. Exhale slowly. Wiggle your fingers, your toes, and rise—the only thing you bring back with you to waking life is a deep sense of calm.
Until next time, wanderer.
— Astari, Witch of Whimsy
