Speaker 1: The path winds gently between beds of plants you cannot
Speaker 1: quite name. The plants are not exotic. The plants are
Speaker 1: the kind of plants you might find in any quiet garden, leafy, soft,
Speaker 1: varieded in their greens. You walk the path slowly. You
Speaker 1: do not have to reach any destination. You are walking
Speaker 1: because walking feels good. The stones massage the soles of
Speaker 1: your feet. The air is warm.
Speaker 2: Now let your breathing find its own rhythm, a rhythm
Speaker 2: that is a little slower than your waking rhythm, a
Speaker 2: rhythm that is a little deeper.
Speaker 1: Breathe in through your nose. Feel the air as it enters.
Speaker 1: Cool at the nostrils, cool in the throat, cool in
Speaker 1: the chest. Breathe out through your mouth softly, slowly. Let
Speaker 1: the breath leave without effort. Let your thighs feel heavy.
Speaker 1: Let your knees soften, Let your calves release, Let your
Speaker 1: ankles be still. Let your feet open. Let your toes uncurl.
Speaker 1: The toes have been gripping all day, shoes, gripping floors,
Speaker 1: gripping uncertainty. Tonight the toes are free. Feel your whole
Speaker 1: body now, feel it from the crown of your head
Speaker 1: to the soles of your feet. Feel it heavy, feel
Speaker 1: it warm, feel it held. Your head does not need
Speaker 1: to do anything tonight except rest. Let your attention come
Speaker 1: to your neck, to the muscles along the sides of
Speaker 1: your throat, to the small muscles at the base of
Speaker 1: your skull. Feel them lengthen, feel them soften. They have
Speaker 1: been holding your head up all day. Tonight they are
Speaker 1: allowed to rest. Shoulders drop, let them drop toward the bed.
Speaker 1: Let them settle now in this quiet, in this rest,
Speaker 1: Allow a few soft truths to settle into you. You
Speaker 1: are safe here, You are held here. The night is long,
Speaker 1: and you have nowhere to be but exactly where you are.
Speaker 1: You did enough today, whatever you did, whatever you didn't do,
Speaker 1: you did enough. Tomorrow is another day. Tonight is for rest.
Speaker 1: You are not behind, You are not late, You are
Speaker 1: not failing. In this house, you can simply walk the hallway,
Speaker 1: look through the doors, Rest your forehead against the window,
Speaker 1: and feel the cool glass and the golden light. The
Speaker 1: house softens, the hallway fades, the doors close one by
Speaker 1: one gently, the way doors close. In a dream, the
Speaker 1: window dissolves, the glass becomes air, the light becomes memory.
Speaker 1: The dream is over, but the feeling of the dream remains.
Speaker 1: Let your tongue rest gently against the roof of your mouth,
Speaker 1: or curl softly at its bottom, whichever feels more natural.
Speaker 1: Either way, the muscles of your face are learning to release. Now,
Speaker 1: let your attention drift to the back of your head,
Speaker 1: to the place where your head meets the pillow. Feel
Speaker 1: the weight of your head being held, Feel the pillow
Speaker 1: receiving you, Feel the give, feel the support. But the
Speaker 1: garden does not feel smaller. As you go deeper, the
Speaker 1: garden feels larger. The garden seems to expand as you
Speaker 1: move through it, the way a dream expands as you
Speaker 1: move through it. The garden has no edges. The garden
Speaker 1: has no end. There is always more garden. There is
Speaker 1: always more quiet. You come to a clearing in the
Speaker 1: center of the garden. In the clearing, there is a
Speaker 1: circle of grass. The grass is soft. The body is
Speaker 1: doing its work. The body knows how to rest. The
Speaker 1: body is resting. Right now. You are resting. Right now.
Speaker 1: You are in a house. The house is not yours,
Speaker 1: though it feels like it could be. The house has
Speaker 1: the quality of a house from a story you read
Speaker 1: as a child, or a house from a dream you
Speaker 1: had once and forgot. The house is large. The house
Speaker 1: is empty of other people, but not empty of presence.
Speaker 1: The house feels inhabited by the memory of everyone who
Speaker 1: has ever lift here. The floors remember feet. The air
Speaker 1: smells of green things, of earth, of leaf, of flower,
Speaker 1: not strongly, just gently, the way a garden smells at
Speaker 1: the end of a long day. There is water nearby.
Speaker 1: You can hear it. The sound is small. The sound
Speaker 1: is soft. It is the sound of water moving over stones.
Speaker 1: It is the sound of a stream you cannot see.
Speaker 1: The sound follows you as you walk. The sound keeps
Speaker 1: you company. You do not need to open the closed ones.
Speaker 1: You do not need to enter the open ones. You
Speaker 1: only need to work the hallway. You only need to
Speaker 1: feel the wood under your feet, feel the light on
Speaker 1: your face, feel the quiet of the house. You walk.
Speaker 1: Your footsteps echo softly. The echo is gentle, not in
Speaker 1: a rush. You step through the way you have been
Speaker 1: stepping through everything tonight, slowly, gently, one breath at a time.
Speaker 1: The door closes behind you. The door makes no sound.
Speaker 1: The door does not lock. You can return whenever you
Speaker 1: need to. The door will be there. The door is
Speaker 1: always there. On the other side of the