Serenity In Motion

My Love,

There is a wisdom in trees that the body remembers, even when the mind forgets. A steadiness. A downwardness. A belonging to the earth so complete that nothing — not weather, not season, not uncertainty — can uproot their knowing.

And perhaps this is why, in times when you feel scattered or anxious or unmoored, something inside you longs for that same depth of grounding… for the slow, ancient breath of a tree.

To breathe like a tree is not to inhale more, or try harder, or perform calmness.
It is to root.
It is to receive.
It is to let the exhale become your anchor.

You do not need strength for this.
You only need willingness — the willingness to descend.

This is breathwork not as technique, but as ceremony.
Not as correction, but as return.
Not as instruction, but as instinct.

Trees do not try to be grounded.
They simply trust the earth.

Let us learn from them.

The Essence of Tree-Breath: Downward, Not Upward

Most humans breathe upward — lifting the shoulders, tightening the chest, pulling the breath into the mind. This is why anxiety rises. This is why the heart races. This is why the body feels like it floats away from itself.

But trees?
Trees breathe downward.

Their nourishment travels through the trunk and into the soil.
Their stability comes from the dark, not the light.
Their calmness comes from depth, not height.

To breathe like a tree is to reverse the direction of your stress.
To pull the breath down into the belly, the pelvis, the legs, the roots.
This down-breath is what signals safety to your nervous system.

Let’s begin.

Step One: The Rooted Seat

Sit in a way that allows your weight to drop — on your bed, on the floor, against a chair. Your spine does not need to be perfect; it only needs to be soft.

Place both feet on the ground (or mattress).
Let your hands rest on your lower belly — the root center.

Close your eyes and imagine your hips widening, softening, settling.
Feel gravity becoming a warm hand beneath you.

Take one slow breath.
Let the exhale slip out like water.
That’s the beginning.

Step Two: The Tree Trunk Breath (4–6)

Trees do not rush their breath.
They rise slowly.
They fall even slower.

Try this:

Inhale for 4
Exhale for 6

As you inhale, imagine your breath filling the trunk of your body — not the chest alone, but the belly, the sides, the lower back.

As you exhale, imagine the breath flowing downward, through the pelvis, the legs, the soles of your feet, and into the earth.

Repeat 6 times.

This is your grounding rhythm.
This is the breath that steadies storms.

Step Three: The Root Breath (The Downward Pull)

Now place both hands a little lower — beneath the navel, over soft warmth.

Inhale through the nose, feeling the belly expand.
Exhale through the mouth, imagining your breath sinking deep into the earth below you.

Let each exhale become heavier.
Let each exhale become slower.
Let each exhale feel like a root unfurling beneath the soil.

The body responds to imagery.
When you imagine roots, your nervous system behaves as if you have them.

Breathe like this for 1 minute.

Let yourself descend.

Step Four: The Bark Breath (Protection Without Hardness)

Trees protect themselves without armouring. Their bark is strength born from softness, not tension.

On your next inhale, imagine your breath rising just enough to create spaciousness across your chest — like bark softening open, not tightening.

On your exhale, imagine your breath traveling back down into your base — anchoring, grounding, rooting.

Inhale: soft expansion
Exhale: downward anchoring

This breath balances vulnerability and safety.
It makes room for feeling, without letting feeling overwhelm.

Repeat 8 times.

Step Five: The Canopy Breath (Receiving What You Need)

Trees do not chase the sun — they simply open to it.
They receive without reaching.
They trust what comes.

Let’s do the same.

Inhale for 4, imagining your breath widening like branches stretching into gentle winter light.
Exhale for 8, imagining your breath returning downward into your roots, into your hips, into the deep soil of your body.

This inhale is not about rising; it is about opening.
This exhale is not about emptying; it is about anchoring.

Feel how receiving softness makes you stronger.

Step Six: The Still Trunk Pause (The Centre Within You)

Place one hand on your heart, one on your root.

Feel the rise and fall of both.
Feel the connection between:

the bloom (heart)
and
the root (belly)

Trees are not grounded because they are tall.
They are tall because they are grounded.

Feel your own verticality — the quiet confidence that comes when your base is steady.

Stay here for 5 breaths.
Let your whole being feel inhabited.

Step Seven: Closing With the Whisper of Trees

Trees do not speak loudly. Their language is breath and stillness and the subtle sounds of life moving quietly downward.

Bring your palms together at your heart or belly.
Bow your head a little — a gesture of returning.

And whisper softly:

“I root into myself.”
“I breathe downward.”
“I am held by the earth beneath me.”
“Like a tree, I am grounded even in the wind.”

Let these words tuck themselves into your nervous system,
like seeds gathering strength beneath winter soil.

You can return to this practice anytime —
when anxiety rises,
when thoughts scatter like leaves,
when your body floats above itself,
when life feels too loud,
when the world asks too much.

Trees withstand every season because they know this truth:
the deeper the root, the softer the sway.

And you, My Love,
are rooted deeper than you know.

With love,

Lily