The Nurse's Tale
Read aloud slowly, in a warm voice, or have someone read it to you; ten to twelve minutes.
Before you begin. This practice uses a story of impossibilities to loosen the grip of thought. It is suitable for most adults. If you have ever had episodes of feeling that the world or you yourself are unreal, or a psychotic illness, practise only with a clinician. Sit comfortably, supported. Never practise while driving or operating anything.
How to return at any moment. Open your eyes, put both feet on the floor, and say aloud the name of the room you are in.
Settle, as a child settles for a story. Let the eyes close if they wish. Let the voice be warm and slow.
Once upon a time, in a desolate land, there were three princes, noble and brave. Two of them were never begotten, and the third was not born of a mother's womb.
If the mind says but that cannot be, let it say so, and keep listening.
They set out to find a better home. The sun was hot on their backs. They cried like fawns who have lost the herd.
By the road were three trees. Two had not grown of themselves, and the third bore no seed. They ate the fruit, and it was sweet.
At noon they came to three rivers. One was dry. They bathed in the dry one, and drank, and it was sweet as milk.
At sunset they came to a new-built city on a hill, with flags, and singing. There were three houses. Two were not made by anyone, and the third had no foundation. They went into the third, and were happy there.
They found three pots. Two broke when lifted, and the third turned to dust. From the dust they made a new pot, and cooked a hundred measures of rice, less one.
They invited three guests. Two had no bodies, and one had no mouth. The one with no mouth ate it all.
Notice: you are glad. You have not understood, and you are glad anyway.
Now let one worry come, one you carry often. Hear it as the nurse would tell it. Once upon a time… Notice it has princes, and rivers, and a city. Notice that it, too, is being told.
Let the images grow thinner. The city, the houses, the worry. Do not push them away. Only stop adding to them. Let them thin like mist.
What is left is the one who was listening. Rest there.
Now come back to the house you live in by day. Feel its walls: the skin, the weight, the breath. I will count from one to five. One: breathe in deeply. Two: move your hands and feet. Three: hear the room. Four: stretch. Five: eyes open, fully alert.
Name five things you can see in the room. Say your name and today's date. If anything still feels unreal, press your feet into the floor, hold something solid, and walk a few steps before you go on.