Find a comfortable place where you can recline or sit with full support, perhaps with pillows or blankets to create a nest-like environment. If possible, position yourself near a window where you can see the sky or where fresh spring air can reach you. Bring a cup of warm herbal tea, a small bowl of water, and if available, some fresh green herbs or early spring flowers. Arrange these items within easy reach. Rest in a position that allows your body to be fully supported, acknowledging any discomfort or pain. Place one hand on your heart and the other on your abdomen, connecting to your physical form. Take three gentle breaths, not forcing depth but allowing the breath to find its natural rhythm, noticing how even in fatigue or illness, the breath continues to sustain life, just as spring continues to emerge regardless of temporary setbacks

Fàilte ort, an ceathramh là den Ghiblean, là de leigheas an earraich.(Welcome to you, fourth day of April, a day of spring healing.)

A' Mhàthair Talamh, tha mi a' tighinn thugad ann am laigse.(Mother Earth, I come to you in weakness.)

Air an là seo, tha mi a' sireadh do chumhachd leigheis.(On this day, I seek your healing power.)

Close your eyes and visualize the landscape in early April, when healing begins but is not yet complete. See how the land recovers from winter's harshness—patches of snow still lingering in shaded areas, mud and disorder apparent in the transition, yet green shoots persistently emerging. Nature does not rush this healing process; it accepts the messiness of transition. Some days are warm and bright, others return to winter's chill. The earth embraces this rhythm, never forcing recovery but allowing it to unfold according to its own wisdom.

Tha earrach a' tighinn, agus tha mise ann an staid de thinneas.(Spring is coming, and I am in a state of sickness.)

Mar a leighiseas an talamh e fhèin às dèidh a' gheamhraidh, tha mo chorp ag iarraidh leigheis.(As the earth heals itself after winter, my body seeks healing.)

A' Mhàthair Talamh, stiùir mo shlighean gu fallaineachd.(Mother Earth, guide my paths to wholeness.)

If you brought tea, take a small sip, feeling its warmth and nourishment. If you brought herbs or flowers, gently touch or smell them, connecting to their vital energy. These growing things have their own innate healing wisdom—they know how to repair damage, how to grow toward light, how to transform simple elements into medicine.

Visualize yourself lying in a sun-dappled clearing in a spring forest. The ground beneath you is soft with new grass and moss, cradling your body perfectly. A gentle stream flows nearby, its quiet gurgling a soothing song. The air is fresh and carries the scent of damp earth and new growth. Above, the branches show the first pale green leaves against the blue sky.

Allow yourself to acknowledge the sickness or weakness you feel. There is no need to resist it or to pretend strength. Like the earth emerging from winter, healing comes not through force but through surrender to the natural process of regeneration.

A Mhàthair Talamh, tha do chumhachdan leigheis a' sruthadh tromham.(Mother Earth, your healing powers flow through me.)

Mar a thig an t-uisge blàth an earraich, thig do shlàinte tromham.(As the warm spring rain comes, your health flows through me.)

A' Mhàthair, tha mi a' fosgladh mi fhìn do d' ioc-shlàinte nàdurrach.(Mother, I open myself to your natural medicine.)

Place your hands wherever you feel discomfort in your body. Feel the connection between your hands and that area, imagining that your touch carries the healing wisdom of the Mother Earth.

Visualize the Mother of the Earth in her aspect as healer, moving through the landscape with gentle, knowing hands. Where she touches, she does not force healing but awakens the innate capacity for regeneration that dwells within each living thing. She knows that healing has its own timing—that some wounds heal quickly while others require the slow medicine of time and patience.

Feel the healing presence of the Mother Earth flowing into your body like sap rising in the trees. This healing energy moves to wherever it is needed most—to organs requiring support, to systems needing balance, to tissues seeking repair. There is nothing you need to do; simply receive this natural medicine, trusting the ancient wisdom that flows through all life.

Take a moment to contemplate:

What might my sickness be teaching me about my relationship with my body and the natural world? How might I better honor the natural rhythms of activity and rest, of healing and growth?

A Mhàthair Talamh, taing dhut airson do thiodhlac leigheis.(Mother Earth, thank you for your gift of healing.)

Mar a bheir thu beatha às ùr do lùsan na machrach, ùraich mo neart is mo shlàinte.(As you give new life to the plants of the field, renew my strength and health.)

Tha mi a' giùlan do leigheis leam, a' Mhàthair, ann an cuimhne mo chuirp.(I carry your healing with me, Mother, in the memory of my body.)

Gun robh beannachd leigheasach na Màthar còmhla rium, an-diugh agus gach latha.(May the healing blessing of the Mother be with me, today and every day.)

Gradually become aware of your surroundings once more. Feel the support beneath your body, holding you even in weakness. Listen to the sounds around you. When you are ready, open your eyes, knowing that the healing process continues whether visible or not, guided by the wisdom of the Mother Earth who renews all life in perfect time.