Freedom

You say "I am" on the inhale and "Free" on the exhale, first a few times with Vasavi, then again for three breaths at the end. It ties the idea to your breath, so the words become something you feel rather than think about. The framing is that you are already free right now, not that you must earn it.

That age range, or your earliest memory, is offered as a time when you had no worries and anything seemed possible: being president, flying to the moon, becoming a famous artist or singer. You're invited to notice what you were doing, how it felt and smelled, and how your dreaming affected the people around you. It gives you a lived reference point for freedom that you can bring into the present.

Once you picture big dreams, the ego's voice gets louder with questions like "Who are you to dream that big?" Vasavi says them aloud on purpose, to bring them out of the shadow rather than letting them quietly run your life. You then ask the voice what it is so afraid of, and what it needs from you.

You ask the fearful chatter whether it needs love, compassion, forgiveness or surrender, then open your heart a little and offer it. You tell it that it's going to be okay. The idea is that your past was a catalyst, shaped for the next chapter you want to write.

Vasavi asks you to picture showing up in the world as absolutely free, and to listen for the answer. She says it probably won't be loud and may arrive as a tiny whisper. She can't supply it, because only you know, and you have to be willing to ask even the question you fear answering.

Near the end, you imagine taking both off the table: the past is over, and the future is a blank sheet of paper. Then you ask whether you feel free right here, what you need to tell yourself, what to let go of, and what permission to give yourself. It frames freedom as a choice you can make now.