Let me describe one session, slowly, so the shape of it is clear.
It begins with almost nothing — a small charge noticed in the chest while reading an ordinary email. Not a crisis. Just a tightening. Most days it would pass unremarked. Today we stop.
We do not analyse it. We turn toward it the way you would turn toward a sound in another room — curious, unhurried. Where exactly is it? What is its texture? If it had a shape, what shape? The tightening, met, becomes a knot just under the breastbone.
We stay near it without climbing in. We let it know we are here. Nothing is demanded of it. After a while — and this cannot be rushed — the knot shows what it is holding: a much older moment of not being believed.
We do not fix that moment. We witness it, from now, with the steadiness that was missing then. And the knot, having finally been seen, loosens on its own.
That is a return. Small, quiet, complete. The practice is simply this, again and again, going only as deep as care allows.