Speaker 1: Welcome, dear friend, to this quiet corner. We are prepared
Speaker 1: for you. Thank you with all our hearts for choosing
Speaker 1: to rest your mind here with us for a while.
Speaker 1: It is our fondest hope that this story will be
Speaker 1: a gentle companion for you, a soft and steady hand
Speaker 1: to hold as you journey toward the peaceful shores of sleep,
Speaker 1: helping you to drift away with a feeling of profound ease. If,
Speaker 1: as our tail unfolds, you find a measure of comfort
Speaker 1: within its quiet words, we would be so grateful if
Speaker 1: you would, just before you set your device aside, show
Speaker 1: your appreciation by liking this story and subscribing to our channel,
Speaker 1: perhaps even leaving a kind comment to help us share
Speaker 1: this peace with others. Before we step onto the soft
Speaker 1: moss of the sanctuaries, a place where warmstones hung a
Speaker 1: deep and ancient lullaby, we shall first take a moment
Speaker 1: to quiet our own breath. Now, let us find our
Speaker 1: own sanctuary of comfort. Settle into your bed, as if
Speaker 1: you are a weary traveler who has at last found
Speaker 1: the perfect place to rest, feel the gentle weight of
Speaker 1: your blankets, a comforting presence that promises safety and warmth,
Speaker 1: and let your pillow cradle your head a soft cloud
Speaker 1: to receive all your cares. This time is a gift
Speaker 1: you give to yourself, a quiet moment at the end
Speaker 1: of the day, where all the world's hustle and hurry
Speaker 1: can be left at the door. Allow your body to
Speaker 1: feel utterly supported, letting go into the softness beneath you,
Speaker 1: and invite a deep and peaceful calm to settle in
Speaker 1: your heart, as pervasive and gentle as the valley's soft
Speaker 1: still air. Let us breathe together now, a slow and
Speaker 1: easy rhythm, like the gentle pulsing of the somness flora.
Speaker 1: Draw in a long, soft breath through your nose, feeling
Speaker 1: the air fill you with a clean and quiet energy.
Speaker 1: Then release it with a slow, contented sigh, as if
Speaker 1: you are letting go of the day itself. With each
Speaker 1: peaceful breath, you might imagine your body growing heavier in
Speaker 1: the most pleasant way, sinking ever more deeply into comfort
Speaker 1: and rest. Picture the warm, milky light of the magical
Speaker 1: flowers casting a gentle glow, and feel the soothing, deep
Speaker 1: hum of the resonant stones, a vibration that encourages every
Speaker 1: muscle to soften and release any tension it might Behold
Speaker 1: it should your thoughts begin to wander like little lost
Speaker 1: moths fluttering in the gloaming. That is perfectly all right.
Speaker 1: There is no need to be concerned. Simply notice them
Speaker 1: with a gentle kindness, and then guide your attention back
Speaker 1: to the steady, peaceful rhythm of your breath, or to
Speaker 1: the quiet sound of my voice. Your only task now
Speaker 1: is to listen and to let go. There is nothing
Speaker 1: more to do, nothing to solve. Allow the story to
Speaker 1: be a gentle vessel, ready to carry you across the
Speaker 1: calm waters into the deep and restorative sleep that you
Speaker 1: so richly deserve. Now let us begin our quiet journey
Speaker 1: into the heart of the sanctuaries of deepest Rest. Chapter one,
Speaker 1: The Pavilion of soft Echoes. It is a curious thing
Speaker 1: how one knows they have arrived at a place they
Speaker 1: have only ever sought in thought for failing. It was
Speaker 1: not a gait or a sign post that marked his passage,
Speaker 1: but rather a change in the quality of the air itself.
Speaker 1: One moment, the path beneath his feet was common earth,
Speaker 1: attended by the familiar chatter of unseen insects, and the
Speaker 1: rush of a distant wind. The next, a profound and
Speaker 1: welcoming hush fell over everything, a silence so complete and
Speaker 1: yet so full of peace, that he knew with a
Speaker 1: certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he had
Speaker 1: stepped across the threshold into the sanctuaries of deepest rest.
Speaker 1: The world he had left behind did not so much
Speaker 1: vanish as it did lit dissolved, like sugar in warm water.
Speaker 1: The path under his worn boots softened, becoming a coppet
Speaker 1: of thick, dark moss that seemed to absorb the sound
Speaker 1: of his footsteps, leaving only a soft impression behind. All
Speaker 1: around him, great broad leaf trees of a kind he
Speaker 1: had never seen before, formed a high canopy that diffused
Speaker 1: the afternoon light into a gentle, silvery green luminescence. Their
Speaker 1: leaves the size of platters, and the texture of worn
Speaker 1: velvet shifted not with a rustle, but with a slow,
Speaker 1: sighing whisper that was more of feeling than a sound.
Speaker 1: His attention, no longer pulled in a dozen directions by
Speaker 1: the clamor of the outside, began to notice the smaller,
Speaker 1: gentler sounds that composed the Sanctuary's unique symphony. There was
Speaker 1: the sound of water, not a running brook, but a slow,
Speaker 1: melodic dripping, as if from a single leaf into a
Speaker 1: hidden pool, each drop falling with a soft, resonant plink
Speaker 1: that seemed to measure the slow passage of peaceful tire.
Speaker 1: Farther off, a current of air would occasionally move through
Speaker 1: a cluster of hollow stones, producing a low flute like
Speaker 1: sigh that would hang in the air for a moment
Speaker 1: before fading into the profound quoiet. Following the path has
Speaker 1: a curved gently inward. Phelan came upon a simple, open
Speaker 1: air pavilion. It was crafted from a pale, smooth wood
Speaker 1: that seemed to glow with a faint warmth of its own,
Speaker 1: its beams polished by time and touch to the soft
Speaker 1: sheen of a river stone. There was no furniture within,
Speaker 1: only the clean, smooth floor and a low rounded wall
Speaker 1: on one side, just high enough to lean against. The
Speaker 1: air inside felt even stiller, carrying the clean grounding sand
Speaker 1: of wood, damp earth, and something else, something faintly sweet,
Speaker 1: like rain on dry dust. He stepped inside, his boots,
Speaker 1: making no sound on the wooden floor, and lowered himself
Speaker 1: to sit with his back against the low wall. He
Speaker 1: did not mean to meditate or to think on anything
Speaker 1: in particular. He simply sat. He felt the solid, comforting
Speaker 1: press of the polished wood against his spine, and he listened.
Speaker 1: He listened to the gentle drop of water, the sigh
Speaker 1: of the windstones, and the soft whisper of the great
Speaker 1: leaves overhead. It was a music made of quietude, a
Speaker 1: layered silence that began to gently unravel the tight knots
Speaker 1: of weariness he had carried for so long. Closing his eyes,
Speaker 1: Phiolin focused on the sensation of his own breathing, which
Speaker 1: already seemed to have slowed to match the unhurried pace
Speaker 1: of this place in the cool, clean air, And as
Speaker 1: he exhaled, he imagined he was releasing not just air,
Speaker 1: but a fine gray dust of old worries and hurried thoughts.
Speaker 1: With each breath, the feeling grew a sense of inner
Speaker 1: space expanding, of a great and gentle quiet, filling him
Speaker 1: from the inside out. His shoulders, which he hadn't realized
Speaker 1: were held so tightly, began to soften and drop. The
Speaker 1: world of clocks and calendars, of destinations and deadlines fell
Speaker 1: to a thousand miles away a half remembered story from
Speaker 1: another life. Here, time was not a line to be followed,
Speaker 1: but a space to be inhabited. The sun's slow descent,
Speaker 1: marked only by the shifting angle of the soft light
Speaker 1: filtering through the canopy, was the only measure of its passing.
Speaker 1: A small, contented sigh escaped Philent's lips, a sound so
Speaker 1: quiet it was immediately welcomed into the pavilion's gentle symphony
Speaker 1: of echoes. He did not know how long he sat there,
Speaker 1: held in the pavilion's serene embrace. It may have been minutes,
Speaker 1: or it may have been an hour. It did not
Speaker 1: seem to matter. What mattered was the feeling, a sense
Speaker 1: of profound arrival, not just at a place, but at
Speaker 1: a state of being. The first Sanctuary had offered its gift,
Speaker 1: that deep, restorative peace that can only be found not
Speaker 1: in the absence of sound, but in the presence of
Speaker 1: a truly gentle quiet. He felt the first layer of
Speaker 1: his exhaustion simply fall away, leaving behind a clean, calm stillness.
Speaker 1: Chapter two, The Garden of Yielding Mass, A new path
Speaker 1: seemed to present itself, not by any clear design, but
Speaker 1: as if the moss itself had decided to thin in
Speaker 1: one direction, forming a soft invitation onward. Phelan rose, feeling
Speaker 1: a surprising lightness in his limbs, and followed the gentle suggestion.
Speaker 1: The air grew warmer here, and the ground became a
Speaker 1: truly astonishing carpet of deep, vibrant green moss, so thick
Speaker 1: and springy that each footstep fell cushioned and utterly silent. This,
Speaker 1: he sensed, was a place dedicated to the quiet joy
Speaker 1: of touch. It was here that he first saw another soul.
Speaker 1: An old man with a kind face etched with the
Speaker 1: gentle lines of a thousand peaceful seasons, was tending to
Speaker 1: have patched the moss with a soft brush made of reeds.
Speaker 1: He wore a simple, loose fitting robes the color of
Speaker 1: dried lavender, and moved with a slow, deliberate grace that
Speaker 1: seemed perfectly in tune with his surroundings. This, Fela knew
Speaker 1: at once must be Oringe, the caretaker he had heard
Speaker 1: whispers of. Oron looked up as Phelan approached, and a small,
Speaker 1: warm smile touched his lips, a greeting that needed no words.
Speaker 1: Oron turned and walked to a low stone table upon
Speaker 1: which sat a simple ceramic teapot, a faint wisp of
Speaker 1: steam curling from its spouse. He poured the warm amber
Speaker 1: colored liquid into a handless cup, the clay of which
Speaker 1: was a beautiful, earthy red, and held it out to Phalan.
Speaker 1: The cup was wonderfully warm, its unglazed surface feeling smooth
Speaker 1: and solid in Phalan's hands. He took a sip. The
Speaker 1: tea was subtly spiced with something like cinnamon and dried petals,
Speaker 1: a comforting warmth that spread from his chest all through
Speaker 1: his body. They stood for a moment in companionable silence,
Speaker 1: a shared appreciation for the simple, profound pleasure of a
Speaker 1: warm drink in a peaceful place. Phelan's gaze was drawn
Speaker 1: to a series of large dark stones dotted throughout the
Speaker 1: mossy garden. They were almost perfectly smooth, like giant pebbles
Speaker 1: worn down by a gentle, ageless river, and they seemed
Speaker 1: to radiate a faint, pleasant warmth. He felt and urged
Speaker 1: to touch one, and as Orn gave a small encouraging nod,
Speaker 1: he knelt by the nearest one. It was the size
Speaker 1: of a large cushion, its surface a deep, polished black
Speaker 1: gray that felt wonderfully sleek and cool at first, before
Speaker 1: a deeper warmth, and to see through. He rested his
Speaker 1: palm flat against its surface, and then he felt it.
Speaker 1: It was not a sound that reached his ears, but
Speaker 1: a vibration that entered directly through his skin, a low,
Speaker 1: steady hung, as deep and resonant as the purr of
Speaker 1: some great contented creature. The vibration traveled up his arm
Speaker 1: into his shoulder and seemed to settle deep within his chest,
Speaker 1: a gentle internal lullaby that loosened muscles he hadn't even
Speaker 1: known tints. It was the most profoundly relaxing sensation he
Speaker 1: had ever experienced. He spent what felt like a long,
Speaker 1: blissful time just kneeling there, his hand resting on the
Speaker 1: resonant stone, feeling its peaceful song hum through his entire being.
Speaker 1: He shifted his position, resting his cheek against the warm,
Speaker 1: smooth surface, closing his eyes and letting the gentle vibration
Speaker 1: soothe away the last vestiges of his inner disquiet. The
Speaker 1: world simplified into this one perfect sensation, the warmth of
Speaker 1: the stone, its deep and steady hung, and the soft
Speaker 1: yielding cushion of the moss beneath his knees. Orn moved
Speaker 1: quietly about the garden, his presence a silent, reassuring constant.
Speaker 1: He did not speak, but his every action was a
Speaker 1: lesson in gentle mindfulness. From the way he carefully trimmed
Speaker 1: a single errant leaf to the soft swish of his
Speaker 1: broom as he swept fallen petals from a stone path.
Speaker 1: It was a communication of pure serenity, a demonstration that
Speaker 1: peace could be found in the simplest and most deliberate
Speaker 1: of actions, a truth that settled over Phelan as gently
Speaker 1: as a soft blanket. When at last Phelan drew his
Speaker 1: hand away from the stone, a pleasant warmth lingered in
Speaker 1: his palm, and the deep hum seemed to echo softly
Speaker 1: within him. He felt grounded, solid, and wonderfully calm. The tea,
Speaker 1: the yielding moss, the deep song of the stone, and
Speaker 1: the quiet kindness of the caretaker had worked their gentle magic.
Speaker 1: The Second Sanctuary had layered its gift of texture and
Speaker 1: warmth atop the first one's gift of quiet, drawing him
Speaker 1: ever deeper into a state of profound and simple contentment.
Speaker 1: Chapter three, The Dell of Sumness flora. A new scent
Speaker 1: began to weave itself into the clean air of the garden,
Speaker 1: a fragrance so faint and yet so alluring that it
Speaker 1: was impossible to ignore. It was a clean, sweet smell,
Speaker 1: like honded milk and cool night, and it seemed to
Speaker 1: pull Felan gently forward down another winding path. This one
Speaker 1: led him downward into a small, sheltered dell, and as
Speaker 1: he entered the hollow, the scent grew stronger, wrapping around
Speaker 1: him like a soft, invisible shawl. He had arrived in
Speaker 1: the sanctuary of scent and sight. The dell was filled
Speaker 1: with the most extraordinary plants. They were not tall, but
Speaker 1: grew in low, wide clusters with large, waxy, bell shaped
Speaker 1: flowers the color of heavy cream. During the day, their
Speaker 1: petals remained tightly furled. But as the sky above the
Speaker 1: canopy began to deepen from soft blue to a gentle vioret,
Speaker 1: a slow and wondrous transformation began. One by one, the
Speaker 1: sumless flora began to unfurl their thick, perfect petals. It
Speaker 1: was a silent, languid movement, a slow motion dance of blooming.
Speaker 1: As each flower opened, two miracles occurred. The first was
Speaker 1: the source of the beautiful fragrance, which now filled the
Speaker 1: dell with its calming, sweet perfume, a scent that seemed
Speaker 1: to encourage the very air in one's lungs to slow down.
Speaker 1: The second was a soft, milky white light that began
Speaker 1: to emanate from the heart of each blossom. It was
Speaker 1: not bright light, but a gentle, internal luminous that waxed
Speaker 1: and waned in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, like a field
Speaker 1: of softly breathing stars. Phelan found a spot on a
Speaker 1: bank of soft, dry moss at the edge of the
Speaker 1: dell and simply sat to watch. The entire hollow was
Speaker 1: now filled with the gentle, pulsing glow of the flora.
Speaker 1: The soft light cast no harsh shadows, instead creating a
Speaker 1: world of soft edges and shifting milky patterns on the
Speaker 1: ground and on the broad leaves of the trees. It
Speaker 1: was a light that did not demand to be looked at,
Speaker 1: but rather invited quiet observation, a visual lullaby that was
Speaker 1: profoundly soothing to the eyes. He lay back on the moss,
Speaker 1: his head pillared on his arms, and gazed up at
Speaker 1: the gentle constellation of glowing flowers. He inhaled their clean,
Speaker 1: soporific scent, and with each slow breath he felt his thoughts,
Speaker 1: which had already grown quiet, began to thin even further,
Speaker 1: becoming as transparent and slow moving as clouds on a
Speaker 1: windless day. The rhythmic pulsing of the light seemed to
Speaker 1: synchronize with his own heartbeat, which grew slower, steadier, and
Speaker 1: calmer than he could ever remember. It being the combination
Speaker 1: of the enveloping scent and the gentle rhythmic light was
Speaker 1: incredibly powerful. It by passed the thinking mind entirely, communicating
Speaker 1: directly with a deeper, more peaceful part of his being.
Speaker 1: There were no questions to ask, no meanings to decipher.
Speaker 1: There was only the experience itself, the soft light, the
Speaker 1: sweet air, the feeling of complete safety in peace. It
Speaker 1: was as if the dell itself was breathing, and he
Speaker 1: was breathing with it, a part of its gentle, living rhythm.
Speaker 1: A sense of profound gratitude washed over him, a simple,
Speaker 1: quiet thankfulness for the existence of such a place. He
Speaker 1: felt a deep appreciation for the flowers, for their silent,
Speaker 1: nightly gift of light and scent. He felt thankfulness for
Speaker 1: the path that had led him here, and for the deep,
Speaker 1: deep quiet that allowed for such wonders to be noticed.
Speaker 1: It was a feeling of contentment so pure and simple
Speaker 1: that it felt like coming home to a part of
Speaker 1: himself he had forgotten existed. He did not fight the
Speaker 1: gentle drowsiness that began to settle over him. He welcomed
Speaker 1: it as a friend. His limbs felt heavy in the
Speaker 1: most pleasant way, and his mind was a calm, clear pool,
Speaker 1: reflecting only the soft, pulsing light of the Somac's flora.
Speaker 1: Here in the heart of the Third Sanctuary, surrounded by
Speaker 1: a light that seemed born of peace and a scent
Speaker 1: that promised rest, he felt himself drifting not towards sleep
Speaker 1: just yet, but toward its serene and welcoming borderlant a
Speaker 1: place of perfect tranquility. Chapter four, The Basin of Stillness.
Speaker 1: He did not know if he had dozed for a
Speaker 1: moment or merely drifted in a state of deep reverie.
Speaker 1: But when Phelan opened his eyes again, the soft light
Speaker 1: of the flora seemed to illuminate a new path forward.
Speaker 1: This one was marked by flat, smooth stones that led
Speaker 1: out of the dell and toward a low, circular wall
Speaker 1: of dark polished stone. A profound silence emanated from beyond
Speaker 1: the wall, a quiet so deep it seemed to have
Speaker 1: a gentle calming way. He rose and followed the path,
Speaker 1: arriving at what he knew must be the very heart
Speaker 1: of the sanctuaries. He had come to a wide, circular
Speaker 1: basin open to the sky, where the last of the
Speaker 1: evening's light was a soft, deep indigo. The basin was
Speaker 1: paved with the same dark, smooth stone as the low
Speaker 1: wall surrounding it, and in its center lay a perfectly still,
Speaker 1: circular pool of water. This was the basin of stillness,
Speaker 1: and the pool held the waters of repose. Here all
Speaker 1: the gentle magic of the valley seemed to converge and
Speaker 1: find its purest expression. The air was filled with the faint,
Speaker 1: sweet scent of the distant flora, the ground beneath his
Speaker 1: feet hummed with the faintest echo of the resonant stones,
Speaker 1: and the silence was absolute. The water in the pool
Speaker 1: was so clear and so perfectly still that it was
Speaker 1: like a pane of dark polished glass, flawlessly reflecting the
Speaker 1: first few stars that had appeared in the darkening sky.
Speaker 1: There was no ripple, no current, no movement at all.
Speaker 1: It was an image of perfect, liquid tranquility, a sight
Speaker 1: that instantly quieted the last lingering whispers of Phalan's mind.
Speaker 1: The world seemed to hold its breath in this place.
Speaker 1: He felt an irresistible pull to approach the water's edge.
Speaker 1: He knelt on the cool, smooth stone, the solidness of
Speaker 1: it a comforting anchor. He gazed into the pool's dark
Speaker 1: reflective surface, seeing not his own reflection, but the reflection
Speaker 1: of the peaceful sky above. It was as if he
Speaker 1: were looking down into a deep well of stars. The
Speaker 1: sight was so simple and yet so profoundly wondrous that
Speaker 1: it filled him with a sense of gentle awe. Slowly, hesitantly,
Speaker 1: he reached out and dipped the tips of his fingers
Speaker 1: into the water. The sensation was extraordinary. The water did
Speaker 1: not feel wet in the usual way. Instead, it felt
Speaker 1: impossibly soft and smooth, like cool, flowing silk. But the
Speaker 1: true magic was what happened next. A feeling of utter
Speaker 1: peace spread from his fingertips, up his arm, and through
Speaker 1: his entire body. It was a sensation of comfort and weightlessness,
Speaker 1: as if some unseen burden had been lifted, not just
Speaker 1: from his shoulders, but from his very spirit. More wondrous
Speaker 1: still was the effect on his mind. As the feeling
Speaker 1: of lightness spread, all thought simply ceased. There was no effort,
Speaker 1: no struggle, the quiet stream of inner observation, the gentle
Speaker 1: noticing of his surroundings. Even that fell away, leaving behind
Speaker 1: the state of pure, serene being. There was only the
Speaker 1: present moment, the feeling of the cool stone beneath his knees,
Speaker 1: the soft hair on his skin, and the profound, silent
Speaker 1: peace emanating from the water. He let his fingers trail
Speaker 1: in the water for a long moment, watching as the
Speaker 1: gentle disturbance he created sent out slow, perfect rings that
Speaker 1: spread across the surface before vanishing back into stillness. Each
Speaker 1: ring seemed to carry away another layer of complexity, another
Speaker 1: faint memory of the world outside, leaving him feeling lighter, clearer,
Speaker 1: and more at peace than he had ever thought possible.
Speaker 1: This was the ultimate gift of the sanctuaries, now just
Speaker 1: quiet or comfort or beauty, but a true and profound
Speaker 1: stillness of the soul. It was a peace that did
Speaker 1: not need to be sought or earned, but was simply
Speaker 1: there to be received, a natural state of being that
Speaker 1: the basin helped one to remember. He felt a harmony
Speaker 1: between himself and the place, as if the stillness of
Speaker 1: the water now resided within him, a calm, clear pool
Speaker 1: at the very center of his being. Chapter five, The
Speaker 1: Embrace of Deepest Rest. Phelan slowly drew his hand from
Speaker 1: the waters of Repose, the feeling of serene lightness lingering
Speaker 1: like a pleasant memory. As he rose to his feet,
Speaker 1: he noticed a small alcohol set into the far wall
Speaker 1: of the basin, a space he hadn't seen before. Within it,
Speaker 1: almost hidden in the soft darkness, was a simple wooden cock,
Speaker 1: little more than a low frame, but laid with what
Speaker 1: looked like the thickest, softest wool blankets he had ever seen,
Speaker 1: their texture, looking as inviting as a welcoming hug. There
Speaker 1: was no question in his mind this was an invitation.
Speaker 1: The Final Sanctuary was not a place to be observed,
Speaker 1: but one to be fully inhabited. He walked toward the cot,
Speaker 1: his movement slow and deliberate, his entire being suffused with
Speaker 1: the deep calm of the basin. The air in the
Speaker 1: alcove was cool, and and it carried the mingled scents
Speaker 1: of clean wool, old stone, and the faint perfume of
Speaker 1: the soundness flora from the nearby dell. It was the
Speaker 1: scent of pure, unadulterated peas he sat on the edge
Speaker 1: of the cot, and the blankets were every bit as
Speaker 1: soft as they appeared, yielding gently under his weight. He
Speaker 1: swung his legs up and lay back, pulling the topmost
Speaker 1: blanket over him. It was surprisingly heavy, not in an
Speaker 1: oppressive way, but with a gentle, grounding weight that felt
Speaker 1: like a reassuring hand resting upon him. He rested his
Speaker 1: head on the simple pillow, which seemed to be stuffed
Speaker 1: with soft leaves that rustled faintly and released a clean,
Speaker 1: earthy scent. Lying there, cocooned in softness and warmth, Phelan
Speaker 1: gazed out from his alcol His view was of the
Speaker 1: basin of stillness, the perfect dark mirror of the pool
Speaker 1: reflecting the sky now filled with a thousand gently shining stars.
Speaker 1: The low resonant hum of the distant stones was a deep,
Speaker 1: steadying presence beneath the silence, and the air he breathed
Speaker 1: was the slow, rhythmic exhalation of the entire valley. All
Speaker 1: the gentle gifts of the sanctuaries were here, gathered to
Speaker 1: hold them in their collective peaceful embrace. His body felt
Speaker 1: wonderfully heavy, anchored to the cot by a pleasant, RESTful gravity.
Speaker 1: His limbs were loose and completely at ease, free of
Speaker 1: any tension. His breathing was slow and even, of quiet tide,
Speaker 1: rising and falling in his chest without any effort at all.
Speaker 1: His mind, already cleared by the waters of repose, remained
Speaker 1: a vast empty space of quiet contentment. There was nothing
Speaker 1: to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be but here now,
Speaker 1: in this perfect moment of peace. A final soft wave
Speaker 1: of gratitude washed through him. He felt thankful for his
Speaker 1: tired feet that had carried him here, for his weary
Speaker 1: heart that had sought this peace, and for this incredible
Speaker 1: place that offered it so freely. He closed his eyes,
Speaker 1: not to shut out the world, but to better feel
Speaker 1: the deep internal quiet he had found. The image of
Speaker 1: the still scar filled water remained behind his eyelids, a
Speaker 1: perfect symbol of the calm within him. He felt himself
Speaker 1: standing on the very edge of sleep. It was not
Speaker 1: a sudden drop, but a slow, gentle slope into a deep,
Speaker 1: soft darkness. He felt himself let him go, surrendering completely
Speaker 1: to the safety and serenity of the alcohol. The last
Speaker 1: thing he was aware of was the feeling of the
Speaker 1: weighted blanket, the steady, grounding hum of the valley, the deep,
Speaker 1: abiding sense that he was finally truly at rest. He
Speaker 1: drifted off, sinking into a profound, dreamless and utterly restorative sleep,
Speaker 1: held safely in the heart of the sanctuaries.
Speaker 2: The day you must move in the US meaning us
Speaker 2: Englis