Sit where you are. Feet on the ground if you can. Close your eyes or let your gaze fall soft toward the floor.

Breathe in for four counts. Out for four counts. In again. Out again.

Notice the small sounds around you — traffic, birds, the hum of whatever room you're in. Let them stay. You don't need silence. You need presence.

Feel the surface beneath you. Let it hold your weight completely.

When you speak a word out loud, something shifts in the body before the mind catches up. Florence Scovel Shinn built her entire teaching on this — spoken declaration as practice, not theory. The voice is a physical instrument. What it speaks, the chest registers first.

Take a breath in.

As you exhale, say aloud — or in a whisper if that's what's available right now:

The light of the Infinite goes before me, making clear and easy my way.

Say it again. Slower this time.

The light of the Infinite goes before me, making clear and easy my way.

Don't perform it. Don't reach for feeling. Let the words move through your body the way water moves through a channel — not making something happen, just finding the shape of what's already there.

Notice what happens in your sternum. In your throat. In the backs of your shoulders.

Say it one more time — and pause after each phrase.

The light of the Infinite… Pause.

…goes before me… Pause.

…making clear and easy my way. Pause.

Breathe.

Place your right hand on your chest. Feel the warmth of your own hand meeting your own body.

This light you've been speaking about — it isn't something you've been building toward. It was never behind a door you had to earn the key to. It has been here, quieted perhaps, pressed down by old habits of doubt and deferral, but never absent.

You don't generate it. You uncover it.

Breathe in slowly. On the exhale, let your hand press gently — just enough to feel the contact. Just enough to say: I'm here. I'm here.

Say the declaration once more, quietly, like you're telling yourself something you've known for a long time:

The light of the Infinite goes before me, making clear and easy my way.

Stay there for thirty seconds. Don't evaluate whether you felt it correctly. Just breathe and let the words settle into the body like sediment finding the floor of still water.

When you open your eyes, the room will look the same — and something in you will be a little more visible to yourself.