Healing Waves Reiki explores Reiki, energy, and the science and spirit of healing through grounded conversations on intuition, nervous system support, and whole-person care. Hosted by Cathy Scarpitto—Reiki Master Teacher, intuitive & spiritual mentor, and physical therapist—this podcast bridges science and spirit to explore how Reiki supports healing in modern life, modern care, and everyday healing.
As summer begins to soften into fall, the Autumn Equinox offers us a natural moment to pause.
A moment to notice what has grown.
To give thanks for what has carried us this far.
And to gently consider what we may be ready to release.
In this bonus guided meditation, Cathy Scarpitto invites you to slow down, reconnect with your breath, and reflect on the balance between holding on and letting go.
Using the changing season and the image of autumn leaves as our guide, we'll explore gratitude for what has been, release what may feel heavy, and create space for whatever this next season may bring.
You don't need to have anything figured out.
You don't need to be ready for a new beginning.
Sometimes, like nature, we simply need permission to enter the season we're in.
Find a quiet place, settle in, and allow yourself these few moments to pause, breathe, and listen inward.
In this meditation, you'll be invited to:
• Return to a sense of balance • Reflect on what has grown in your life • Practice gratitude for the season you've traveled through • Gently release what you no longer need to carry • Create space for rest, healing, and what comes next
🍂 A reminder for this season:
I can honor what has been. I can release what I no longer need to carry. I can make space for what comes next. And I can trust the season I'm in.
Healing Waves Reiki with Cathy Scarpitto Where Reiki meets science, intuition meets practice, and healing becomes more human.
Welcome to this guided meditation for balance, gratitude, and letting go. Today I invite you to take a few moments to honor the autumn equinox, a moment of transition, a moment of balance, when the day and night meet one another in nearly equal measure. Nature is beginning to shift. The light is changing. The air is changing. And slowly the natural world begins to turn inward. The trees will begin releasing their leaves. Not because something has gone wrong, but because letting go is part of the cycle. And perhaps this season can remind us that we too are allowed to release what we no longer need to carry. So for the next few minutes, there is nowhere you need to go. Nothing you need to accomplish. Nothing you need to figure out. Just this moment. Just this breath. And this invitation to come back into balance. Find a comfortable position. You may choose to sit or lie down. Allow your hands to rest wherever they feel most comfortable. And when you're ready, gently close your eyes. Take a slow breath in through your nose. And a long slow exhale through your mouth. Again, breathing in and slowly letting it go. And one more time, a full, easy breath in, and a long, gentle breath out. Now allow your breathing to return to its natural rhythm. Notice the surface beneath you. Feel yourself supported. Notice the weight of your body. Allow your shoulders to relax. Unclench your jaw. Relax the muscles around your eyes. Allow your hands to become heavy. Let your belly soften. There is nothing you need to hold together right now. Just allow yourself to be here. As you continue breathing, bring your awareness to the idea of balance. The autumn equinox reminds us that balance does not mean that everything in our lives is perfectly even. Balance is something we continually return to, just as nature moves between light and darkness, activity and rest, growth and release. We move through seasons of our own. Perhaps you've been giving more than you've been receiving. Perhaps you've been moving quickly and haven't had much time to simply be. Perhaps you've been holding on to something because you weren't quite ready to release it. There's nothing to judge. Simply notice. Ask yourself quietly, where in my life am I being invited back into balance? Don't search for an answer. Simply notice what comes into your awareness. A word, an image, a feeling, a thought, or perhaps nothing at all. Just notice. Now imagine yourself standing outside on a beautiful early autumn day. Feel the warmth of the sun on your face. Feel the coolness beginning to enter the air. Perhaps you can hear leaves moving gently in the breeze. Notice the colors beginning to change around you. Gold, amber, rust, deep red. Imagine looking back over the season you've just traveled through. Think about what has grown in your life. Not only the big accomplishments. Sometimes growth is quiet. Perhaps you learned something about yourself. Perhaps you set a boundary. Perhaps you made it through something difficult. Perhaps you allowed yourself to rest. Perhaps you opened your heart. And perhaps you simply kept going. You don't need to minimize what you've walked through. You don't have to immediately move on to the next thing. Simply recognize what has grown. Quietly ask, what am I grateful for from this season of my life? Allow whatever comes to come and breathe. Now imagine a tree standing before you. Some are still green. Some have changed into brilliant shades of gold and orange, and some are already beginning to fall. Notice how effortlessly the tree releases them. It doesn't chase after them. It doesn't reach down and try to put them back. When the time comes, it lets them go. And yet the tree remains. Its roots remain deep within the earth. Its strength remains. Its life remains. The tree knows something we sometimes forget. Releasing something does not mean losing who we are. Sometimes letting go simply creates space for what comes next. So now gently ask yourself: what am I ready to stop carrying? Maybe it's a worry, a responsibility that was never yours, an expectation, a habit, a story you've been telling yourself, a resentment, a fear, or perhaps simply the need to know exactly what comes next. You don't have to force yourself to release anything before you're ready. Just notice what feels heavy. And imagine placing that heaviness into one of the leaves on the tree before you. See it floating through the air, moving slowly until it reaches the earth. Take a deep breath in, and a long slow breath out. Soften your grip. Another breath in, and as you breathe out, let go just a little more. You don't have to release everything today. Sometimes healing happens. One breath, one choice, one leaf at a time. Now notice the branch where that leaf once rested. There is space there. And instead of rushing to fill that space, allow it to remain open. We sometimes become uncomfortable with empty spaces. We want to know what's next. We want answers. We want certainty. But nature doesn't rush from autumn into spring. There is a season in between. A season for resting, for listening, for going inward. Perhaps you don't need to know what comes next yet. Perhaps you simply need to create enough quiet to hear yourself again. Bring both hands to your heart if that feels comfortable. Feel the warmth of your hands against your body. Feel your breath moving beneath them. And quietly ask, What do I want to make space for in this next season? Peace. Whatever arises, allow it to be enough. Take a long, slow, deep breath in and let it all go. Feel your body supported beneath you once again. Notice the rhythm of your breath. Notice the steadiness beneath all of the changing things. Seasons change. Circumstances change. People change. We change. And still, there is something within us that we can continually return to. That quiet place beneath all the noise. That place where we can listen, where we can breathe, where we can begin again. As we move into this new season, perhaps you can carry this simple reminder with you. I can honor what has been. I can release what I no longer need to carry. I can make space for what comes next. And I can trust the season I am in. Take one final slow breath in and a long slow breath out. Begin to notice the room around you. Notice the sounds, the temperature of the air against your skin. Gently wiggle your fingers and wiggle your toes. And when you are ready, slowly open your eyes. As you move back into your day, you don't have to rush. Carry a little of this stillness with you. And perhaps the next time you see a leaf gently falling from a tree, let it remind you. There can be beauty in becoming. There can be wisdom in resting. And there can even be grace in letting go. Thank you for spending these few moments with me. And until next time, be gentle with yourself. And just for today, allow yourself to trust the season you're in.
