Hello everyone, it's Lucy here. We have an exciting new addition to this podcast. As well as our Friday Stories, we will also be having an episode every Wednesday where we will all go on a relaxing adventure together. The wonderful thing about our minds is we can travel to anywhere in the world we like. We can still experience the warm sun, the gentle ocean tides, and the beautiful
nature that so many places can offer us. There's no need to travel physically because we can travel there in our minds and forget about any worries or issues that we may be having in our everyday lives. We will play this journey meditation twice, so if you choose, you can experience the trip again. So sit back, close your eyes, relax, take a deep breath in and out nice and slowly, and let us take you on a lovely journey.
Take a moment to find the most comfortable position.
For your body.
Let your weight be supported fully by the bed beneath you, the pillow under your head, the blankets resting around you like a soft cocoon of warmth. Let your arms and hands rest where they naturally fall. Let your chest relax, Let the muscles in your face soften.
Let there be.
Nothing to hold, nothing to lift, nothing to manage. You are safe here, You are allowed to rest here. Take a slow, gentle breath in through the nose, Hold it just for a moment, and then release it softly through the mouth, like a slow exhale of glowing candle light. Again, breathe in and breathe out, breathing warmth in and releasing all tension out. Let your breathing return to its natural rhythm, steady and calm, like the tides of the ocean, always returning,
always flowing. Now in your mind, imagine yourself standing on a quiet country side road. The air is warm, touched by sunlight that feels like silk against your skin. The sky above you is soft and endlessly blue, with a few white clouds drifting very slowly, as if they too are resting. The grass on either side of the path sways lightly in a gentle breeze. Everything is still and peaceful.
Before you, the yellow brick road appears, glowing warmly, not bright or sharp, but soft, like morning light.
Filtered through lace.
The bricks feel steady and welcoming beneath your feet. You step forward, beginning to walk slowly, calmly, with no need to rush. Each footstep feels almost weightless, like the ground itself is guiding you. As you walk, the world deepens around you. The color's richer, the air sweeter, the quiet fuller. The path seems to open your heart without ever asking anything of you. A head leaned casually against an old wooden fence beside a cornfield is the scarecrow. His patched
clothes flutter gently in the breeze. His face is soft and kindly stitched, with a smile that feels like recognition, like familiarity, like home. When his eyes meet yours, they light up, and he waves in that shy, earnest way of his, as though he is glad you are here, exactly as you are. You approach him, and he rises to his feet with a little wobble straw, shifting lightly. He doesn't rush toward you, doesn't overwhelm you.
He simply stands with you, side by side.
Like two friends who don't need words. His presence feels comforting, thoughtful, gentle, deeply curious, and without any expectation. Together, you begin to walk the road. Bird song floats through the warm air like little ribbons of music. The fields sway softly, the light seems to move with you. Soon the path leads into cool shade, where tall trees form a quiet green
canopy overhead. And there, leaning against the smooth trunk of a tree, is the tin woodman, polished metal, catching dappled sunlight, funnel hat, slightly tilted, with a presence that is strong, yet so tender it could melt the hardest worry. He presses a metal hand to where his heart glows soft and warm. He doesn't need to speak. His kindness is radiant, peaceful, steady. You step close, and he bows his head slightly, as
though honoring the simple act of your being here. He joins your walk, moving with gentle, thoughtful steps that make no sound at all. Now there are three. The road continues, winding towards sunlight again, and when the trees part, there in a golden clearing rests the lion, strong but not intimidating, powerful but gentle. His large paws are tucked beneath him, his golden mane glowing softly in the sunlight, spun honey. His eyes are deep and warm and full of quiet love.
He rises slowly, stretching with a soft rumbling breath, and when he reaches you, he nuzzles your shoulder tenderly, like someone who has longed for soft affection, without needing to pretend to be anything other than gentle. His courage lives in his softness.
And now there are four. You continue walking.
Together, step by slow step, following the golden bricks through a landscape that feels both real and dreamlike. The road leads to a meadow bathed in warm sunlight. The grass is cool and soft underfoot, and tiny white wildflowers sway like stars growing from the earth. The scare crow sits cross legged and pats the ground, inviting you to rest. You sit among them. The tin woodman settles beside you. The lion lies down close, his great head resting near
your legs. There is no need to speak. The air is full of a comforting quiet that says you are safe.
You are welcome, You belong.
You close your eyes for a moment, breathing slowly, feeling held by friendship, by land, by sky. When you rise again, the road leads onward, now through a woodland where the light grows soft lavender. Tiny glowing orbs drift between the trees like floating lanterns or wandering stars. They are warm and slow and curious, hovering near you gently. The scarecrow watches them with wonder The tin woodman reaches a hand out, and one of the glowing lights rests on his metal palm,
pulsing softly. The lion moves with calm reverence, as though he has always known this place. The forest opens to a cozy clearing where a small cottage sits, smoke curling from its chimney like a soft ribbon. A wooden table sits outside with a teapot steaming quietly. There are extra cups, as though someone knew you were coming. You sit with your three companions. The tea tastes like warm vanilla and camomeal and honey, like something made to soothe the spirit.
Your hands feel warm, your body relaxed, your breathing slow and easy. No one speaks, there is no need to. Companionship exists in shared silence. When the tea is finished, the golden road continues. The sky deepens into twilight, the first stars appearing like silver pinpoints. The road leads to a wide open field where the grass is deep and soft, moving like waves. The stars above multiply brighter, closer, shimmering, as though the sky itself is breathing.
And there, in a.
Glow of pale rose and softly glimmering gold, comes Glinda. She moves like light itself. Nothing dramatic, nothing grand, just gentle radiance. She raises her hand and you feel peace wash over your chest, your shoulders, your heart, your breath. She speaks inside you. You are already enough, You are already on your path. You are not late, you are not behind. You are exactly where your heart is learning to open. Warmth spreads through you like sunlight poured slowly
into your chest. The scarecrow takes your hand, gentle encouragement. The tin woodman places his warm metal hand on your other, loving reassurance. The lion rests beside you strong safety. Glinda's light surrounds you unconditional acceptance. You lie down in the soft grass, the night sky stretching infinitely above you. The stars shimmer and slowly begin to drift downward, forming a soft canopy of light over you. The ground beneath you
feels warm and supportive. Every muscle in your body loosens, every thought slows, Your breath becomes soft, steady, slow, You are surrounded, approved of, cherished, held, nothing to prove, nothing to perform, nothing to fix, nothing to carry. Your body knows how to fall into rest. You are safe, You are loved, You are home. Let yourself drift now, slowly, sweetly, softly into sleep. Good night, dear heart, good night.
Take a moment to.
Find the most comfortable position for your body. Let your weight be supported fully by the bed beneath you, the pillow under your head, the blankets resting around you like a soft cocoon of warmth. Let your arms and hands rest where they naturally fall. Let your chest relax, Let the muscles in your face soften. Let there be nothing to hold, nothing to lift, nothing to manage. You are
safe here, You are allowed to rest here. Take a slow, gentle breath in through the nose, Hold it just for a moment, and then release it softly through the mouth, like a slow exhale of glowing candlelight. Again, breathe in and breathe out, breathing warmth in and releasing.
All tension out.
Let your breathing return to its natural rhythm, steady and calm, like the tides of the ocean, always returning, always flowing. Now in your mind, imagine yourself standing on a quiet countryside road. The air is warm, touched by sunlight that feels like silk against your skin. The sky above you is soft and endlessly blue, with a few white clouds drifting very slowly, as if they too are resting. The grass on either side of the path sways lightly in
a gentle breeze. Everything is still and peaceful. Before you, the yellow brick road appears glowing warmly, not bright or sharp, but soft, like morning.
Light filtered through lace.
The bricks feel steady and welcoming beneath your feet. You step forward, beginning to walk slowly, calmly, with no need to rush. Each footstep feels almost weightless, like the ground itself is guiding you. As you walk, the world deepens around you, the colors richer, the air sweeter, the quiet fuller. The path seems to open your heart without ever asking anything of you. A head leaned casually against an old wooden fence beside a cornfield is the scarecrow. His patched
clothes fluttered gently in the breeze. His face is soft and kindly stitched, with a smile that feels like recognition, like familiarity.
Like home.
When his eyes meet yours, they light up, and he waves in that shy, earnest way of his, as though he is glad you are here, exactly as you are. You approach him, and he rises to his feet with a little wobble straw, shifting lightly. He doesn't rush toward you, doesn't overwhelm you. He simply stands with you, side by side, like two friends who don't need words. His presence feels comforting, thoughtful, gentle, deeply cures, and without any expectation. Together you begin to
walk the road. Bird song floats through the warm air like little ribbons of music. The fields sway softly, the light seems to move with you. Soon the path leads into cool shade, where tall trees form a quiet green canopy overhead, And there, leaning against the smooth trunk of a tree, is the tin woodman, polished metal, catching dappled sunlight, funnel hats slightly tilted, with a presence that is strong
yet so tender it could melt the hardest worry. He presses a metal hand to where his heart glows soft and warm. He doesn't need to speak. His kindness is radiant, peaceful, steady. You step close, and he bows his head slightly, as though honoring the simple act of your being here. He joins your walk, moving with gentle, thoughtful steps that make
no sound at all. Now there are three. The road continues, winding towards sunlight again, and when the trees part, there in a golden clearing rests the lion, strong but not intimidating, powerful but gentle. His large paws are tucked beneath him, his golden mane glowing softly in the sun like spun honey. His eyes are deep and warm and full of quiet love.
He rises slowly, stretching with a soft, rumbling breath, and when he reaches you, he nuzzles your shoulder tenderly, like someone who has longed for soft affection, without needing to pretend to be anything other than gentle. His courage lives in his softness. And now there are four. You continue walking together, step by slow step, following the golden bricks through a landscape that feels both real and dreamlike. The
road leads to a meadow bathed in warm sunlight. The grass is cool and soft underfoot, and tiny white wild flowers sway like stars, growing from the earth. The scarecrow sits cross legged and pats the ground, inviting you to rest.
You sit among them.
The tin woodman settles beside you. The lion lies down close, his great head resting near your legs. There is no need to speak. The air is full of a comforting quiet that says you are safe.
You are welcome, You belong.
You close your eyes for a moment, breathing slowly, feeling held by friendship, by land, by sky. When you rise again, the road leads onward, now through a woodland where the light grows soft lavender. Tiny glowing orbs drift between the trees, like floating lanterns or wandering stars. They are warm and slow and curious, hovering near you gently. The scarecrow watches them with wonder. The tin woodman reaches a hand out, and one of the glowing lights rests on his metal palm,
pulsing softly. The lion moves with calm reverence, as though he has always known this place. The forest opens to a cozy clearing where a small cottage sits, smoke curling from its chimney like a soft ribbon. A wooden table sits out there side with a teapot steaming quietly. There are extra cups, as though someone knew you were coming. You sit with your three companions. The tea tastes like warm vanilla and camomeal and honey, like something made to
soothe the spirit. Your hands feel warm, your body relaxed. You're breathing slow and easy. No one speaks, there is no need to. Companionship exists in shared silence. When the tea is finished, the golden Road continues. The sky deepens into twilight, the first stars appearing like silver pinpoints.
The road leads to a wide.
Open field where the grass is deep and soft, moving like waves. The stars above multiply, brighter, closer, shimmering, as though the sky itself is breathing.
And there, in a glow of pale rose and softly.
Glimmering gold, comes Glinda.
She moves like light itself.
Nothing dramatic, nothing grand, just gentle radiance. She raises her hand and you feel peace wash over your chest, your shoulders, your heart, your breath. She speaks inside you. You are already enough, You are already on your path. You are not late, you are not behind. You are exactly where your heart is learning to open. Warmth spreads through you, like sunlight poured slowly into your chest. The scarecrow takes your hand gentle encouragement. The tin woodman places his warm
metal hand on your other, loving reassurance. The lion rests beside you strong safety. Glinda's light surrounds you unconditional acceptance. You lie down in the soft grass, the night sky stretching infinitely above you. The stars shimmer and slowly begin to drift downward, forming a soft canopy of light over you. The ground beneath you feels warm and supportive. Every muscle in your body loosens, every thought slows. Your breath becomes soft, steady, slow.
You are surrounded, approved of, cherished, held nothing to prove, nothing to perform, nothing to fix, nothing to carry. Your body knows how to fall into rest. You are safe, You are loved.
You are home.
Let yourself drift now, slowly, sweetly, softly into sleep. Good night, dear heart, good night. Take a moment to find the most comfortable position for your body. Let your weight be supported fully by the bed beneath you, the pillow under your head, the blankets resting around you like a soft cocoon of warmth. Let your arms and hands rest where they naturally fall. Let your chest relax, Let the muscles in your face soften. Let there be nothing to hold,
nothing to lift, nothing to manage. You are safe here, You are allowed to rest here. Take a slow, gentle breath in through the nose, Hold it just for a moment, and then release it softly through the mouth, like a slow exhale of glowing candle light. Again, breathe in and breathe out, breathing warmth in and releasing all tension out. Let your breathing return to its natural rhythm, steady and calm, like the tides of the ocean, always returning.
Away, flowing.
Now.
In your mind, imagine yourself standing on a quiet countryside road. The air is warm, touched by sunlight that feels like silk against your skin. The sky above you is soft and endlessly blue, with a few white clouds drifting very slowly, as if they too are resting. The grass on either side of the path sways lightly in a gentle breeze. Everything is still and peaceful. Before you, the yellow brick road appears glowing warmly, not bright or sharp, but soft, like morning.
Light filtered through lace.
The bricks feel steady and welcoming beneath your feet. You step forward, beginning to walk slowly, calmly, with no need to rush. Each footstep feels almost weightless, like the ground itself is. As you walk, the world deepens around you. The color's richer, the air sweeter, the quiet fuller. The path seems to open your heart without ever asking anything of you. A head leaned casually against an old wooden fence beside a cornfield is the scarecrow. His patched clothes
fluttered gently in the breeze. His face is soft and kindly stitched, with a smile that feels like recognition, like familiarity, like home. When his eyes meet yours, they light up, and he waves in that shy, earnest way of his, as though he is glad you are here, exactly as you are. You approach him, and he rises to his feet with a little wobble straw, shifting lightly. He doesn't rush toward you, doesn't overwhelm you.
He simply stands with.
You, side by side, like two friends who don't need words. His presence feels comforting, thoughtful, gentle, deeply curious, and without any expectation.
Together, you begin.
To walk the road.
Bird song floats through the warm air like little ribbons of music. The fields sway softly, the light seems to move with you. Soon the path leads into cool shade, where tall trees form a quiet green canopy overhead, And there, leaning against the smooth trunk of a tree, is the tin woodman, polished metal, catching dappled sunlight, funnel hats lightly tilted, with a presence that is strong, yet so tender it could melt the hardest worry. He presses a metal hand
to where his heart glows soft and warm. He doesn't need to speak. His kindness is radiant, peaceful, steady. You step close, and he bows his head slightly, as though honoring the simple act of your being here. He joins your walk, moving with gentle, thoughtful steps that make no sound at all. Now there are three. The road continues, winding towards sunlight again, and when the trees part, there in a golden clearing rests the lion, strong but not intimidating,
powerful but gentle. His large paws are tucked beneath him, his golden mane glowing softly in the sun like spun honey. His eyes are deep and warm and full of quiet love. He rises slowly, stretching with a soft, rumbling breath, and when he reaches you, he nuzzles your shoulder tenderly, like someone who has longed for soft affection, without needing to pretend to be anything other than gentle. His courage lives
in his softness. And now there are four. You continue walking together, step by slow step, following the golden bricks through a landscape that feels both real and dreamlike. The road leads to a meadow bathed in warm sunlight. The grass is cool and soft underfoot, and tiny white wildflowers sway like stars growing from the earth. The scarecrow sits cross legged and pats the ground, inviting you to rest. You sit among them. The tin woodman settles beside you.
The lion lies down close, his great head resting near your legs. There is no need to speak. The air is full of a comforting quiet that says you are safe, you are.
Welcome, You belong.
You close your eyes for a moment, breathing slowly, feeling held by friendship, by land, by sky. When you rise again, the road leads onward, now through a woodland where the light grows soft lavender, tiny glowing orbs drift between the trees like floating lanterns or wandering stars. They are warm and slow and curious, hovering near you gently. The scarecrow watches them with wonder. The tin woodman reaches a hand out, and one of the glowing lights rests on his metal palm.
Pulsing softly, moves with calm reverence, as though he has always known this place. The forest opens to a cozy clearing where a small cottage sits, smoke curling from its chimney like a soft ribbon. A wooden table sits outside with a teapot steaming quietly. There are extra cups, as though someone knew you were coming. You sit with your three companions. The tea tastes like warm vanilla and camomeal
and honey, like something made to soothe the spirit. Your hands feel warm, your body relaxed, your breathing slow and easy. No one speaks, there is no need to. Companionship exists in shared silence. When the tea is finished, the golden road continues. The sky deepens into twilight, the first stars appearing like silver pin points. The road leads to a wide open field where the grass is deep and soft,
moving like waves. The stars above multiply brighter, closer, shimmering, as though the sky itself is breathing.
And there, in a.
Glow of pale rose and softly glimmering gold, comes Glinda.
She moves like light itself.
Nothing dramatic, nothing grand, just gentle radiance. She raises her hand and you feel peace wash over your chest, your shoulders, your heart, your breath. She speaks inside you. You are already enough, You are already on your path. You are not late, you are not behind. You are exactly where your heart is learning to open. Warmth spreads through you, like sunlight poured slowly into your chest. The scarecrow takes your hand, gentle encouragement. The tin woodman places his warm
metal hand on your other, loving reassurance. The lion rests beside you strong safety. Glinda's light surrounds you unconditional acceptance. You lie down in the soft grass, the night sky stretching infinitely above you. The stars shimmer and slowly begin to drift downward, forming a soft canopy of light over you. The ground beneath you feels warm and supportive. Every muscle in your body loosens, every thought slows Your breath becomes soft, steady, slow.
You are surrounded, approved of, cherished, held nothing to prove, nothing to perform, nothing to fix, nothing to carry. Your body knows how to fall into rest. You are safe, you are loved, You are home. Let yourself drift now, slowly, sweetly, softly into sleep. Good night, dear heart, Good night Si