Speaker 1: Mags, hold very still. Do you see it right there,
hovering just above the floorboards in the center of the room.
It's a single, tiny feather, white as fresh snow, just
floating on the air. It's not falling and it's not
flying away. It's just waiting. And look at the story
light jar. It isn't just glowing tonight. It's shimmering with
a deep, rich warmth. It looks like liquid amber or
a pot of golden honey that has been sitting in
the sun all afternoon.
Speaker 2: I see it. It's glowing really deep orange like marmalade.
Speaker 1: That beautiful rich gold is the amber light, the listening glow.
It means a story has arrived that is full of
warmth and waiting. I can feel the dream word resting
inside the glass.
Speaker 3: Max.
Speaker 1: It's a word that feels like finally breathing out after
holding your breath for a long time. I'm going to
think it clearly, acceptance. Ah.
Speaker 3: Yes, the lid is lifting. It's moving so gently, like
a leaf uncurling in the spring. Watch the light float out.
It's drifting toward me, bright and steady. Come here, little one,
My beard is ready.
Speaker 2: It's in your beard. Grumps it's turning all the silver
hairs to gold. It looks like sunshine.
Speaker 3: It feels like sunshine.
Speaker 2: Max.
Speaker 3: As soon as that amber light touched me, I felt
the warmth of a summer afternoon and heard the gentle
splashing of water in an old moat. This is a
story about finding out where you truly belong. It is
the story of the swan who didn't know. Are you comfy?
Is your blanket tucked in tight? Yes?
Speaker 2: I'm ready.
Speaker 3: Then let us close our eyes and drift back to
a grand, old country house surrounded by water. It was
the high of summer. The wheat was yellow, the oats
were green, and down by the water's edge, the burdock
leaves grew so tall and thick that they made a
little forest of their own. Deep in that cool green shade,
a mother duck was sitting on her nest. She had
been sitting there for a very long time.
Speaker 1: Waiting is hard, but she stayed still.
Speaker 3: She did. She was very patient. Finally, one by one,
the eggs began to crack pick. The shells popped open,
and out tumbled the little yellow ducklings. They shook their
fluff and looked at the green world with wide eyes. Quack, quack,
said the mother. Off, you go. But one egg, the
very biggest one, remained in the nest. It lay there,
silent and heavy. It did not move.
Speaker 2: Why isn't it hatching? Is it sleeping?
Speaker 3: It was just taking its time, Max. Some things need
a little longer to be ready. The mother duck sat
back down. She settled her warm feathers over the big
egg and waited. She waited while the sun rose, and
she waited while the moon climbed the sky. Finally, with
a loud crack, the big shell broke. But the bird
that tumbled out was not yellow. He was not small.
He was big and gray, and he looked different.
Speaker 1: He didn't look like his brothers. But he was strong.
Speaker 3: He was very strong. The mother duck looked at him.
He is not like the others, she said, But look
how well he swims, Look how straight he holds his head.
He is my own child. But the rest of the
barnyard was not so kind. When they went to the
feeding yard, the other animals stared. The chickens clucked, the
turkeys gobbled. Look at that big gray one, they whispered.
He doesn't fit in. He is too large, He is
too strange.
Speaker 2: That's not fair. He can't help it.
Speaker 3: No, he couldn't. But the poor duckling didn't know that.
He felt very small inside, even though he was big
on the outside. He tried to hide under the rhubarb leaves.
He tried to make himself look smaller, but nothing worked.
He felt like a mistake. He felt so lonely that
his heart ached. So one evening, when the sky was
purple with twilight, he ran away. He scrambled over the
hedge and kept running until he reached a great wild marsh.
Speaker 1: Sometimes you have to leave the noise to find the quiet.
Speaker 3: He stayed in the mark. As the seasons began to change.
The warm air of summer turned crisp. The leaves turned
gold and brown, fluttering down to the water like sleepy butterflies.
Winter was coming. The days grew short, and the nights
grew long and cold. One evening, just as the sun
was setting like a red ball of fire, a flock
of magnificent birds rose from the rushes. They were dazzlingly white,
with long, elegant necks and powerful wings.
Speaker 2: Swans, they're beautiful.
Speaker 3: They were breath taking. The little gray birds spun in
the water to watch them. He let out a strange,
loud cry. He didn't know what they were, but he
felt a pull in his chest, a longing to be
with them. I could never belong with creatures like that,
he thought, I am just a gray, clumsy thing. And
then the snow came. It was a hard winter, Max.
The water froze. The bird had to paddle constantly just
to keep a tiny circle of water open. He was cold,
and he was tired, but he endured. He just kept swimming,
waiting for the warmth to return.
Speaker 1: He was brave. He just kept going, one paddle at
a time, and.
Speaker 3: Warmth always returns. The sun grew stronger, the ice melted,
the larks began to sing. It was spring. The birds
shook his wings. They felt different, now stronger, heavier, whoosh.
Before he knew it, they lifted him up. He flew
over the marsh, over the woods, until he landed in
a beautiful garden where apple trees bloomed. And there on
the glassy water swam the three magnificent white birds he
had seen before he found them.
Speaker 2: Is he scared?
Speaker 3: He was terrified, Max, but he was also drawn to them.
Fly to them, he thought, even if they peck me
for being ugly. It is better than being alone. He
swam out into the middle of the pond. The great
swans turned and rushed toward him, their feathers ruffled. The
poor bird bowed his head to the water, expecting the worst.
But as he looked down, he saw something in the clear,
still water.
Speaker 1: He saw his reflection.
Speaker 3: He did not see a gray, clumsy bird. He saw
snowy white feathers. He saw a long curved neck. He
saw wings that were powerful and proud. He was not
a duckling at all. He was a swan. The other
swans swam around him, stroking him gently with their beaks,
welcoming him into the circle. He rustled his feathers and
raised his slender neck, breathing in the sweet spring air.
He wasn't pretending anymore, He just was.
Speaker 2: He knew finally he belongs there.
Speaker 1: He does, and look max the amber light in gramps.
His beard is shifting. It's softening, changing from gold to
a beautiful, shimmering rose. Gold.
Speaker 3: That is the learning glow. The story has told us
what happened, but the dream word acceptance wants us to
understand and how it feels. We are going to step
inside the story to that beautiful garden pond. Just after
he realizes who he is, the attic is gone.
Speaker 2: I see the water, It's sparkly.
Speaker 3: Step gently, mags. The grass is soft here, the air
smells of apple blossoms. And look. Floating near the bank,
just a little apart from the others is the young swan.
Speaker 2: I see him. He's so white, but he's not moving.
Speaker 1: Let's speak to him in the learning blow. We can
help him understand his new.
Speaker 2: Swan.
Speaker 1: Hello, you look wonderful today.
Speaker 3: The swan turns his graceful neck to look at us.
He seems happy, but he is hesitating. He is paddling
in a small circle near the reeds.
Speaker 4: Hello, did you see me?
Speaker 3: I looked in the water.
Speaker 4: I saw the white feathers. But it feels very sudden.
For a long time, I was the gray one. I
was the one who didn't fit.
Speaker 2: You fit. Now you're a swan like them.
Speaker 4: I look like them, yes, But do I feel like them?
Over there? The others are gliding together. They look so
sure of themselves. If I go over there, will I
make amak? Will I trip over my own feet? I
am still the same bird inside, aren't I?
Speaker 3: You?
Speaker 1: Are the same bird, but you have grown. You don't
have to change who you are to be with them.
You just have to join them. Don't be scared. Just
glide over.
Speaker 4: It is safe here by the bank. I know this
spot out there in the middle. It is deep and
everyone will see me. What if I am not good
at being a swan.
Speaker 3: Being a swan isn't a job you have to learn.
It is just what you are. Acceptance means trusting that
you are enough right now without trying to be perfect.
Speaker 2: Look that big one is waiting for you. He's looking.
Speaker 4: He is, isn't he He is waiting. He isn't laughing.
He is just making space.
Speaker 2: Yeah, making space. Go on, I'll count one two.
Speaker 4: Push, one two push.
Speaker 3: Look at him, go max. He pushed off the bank.
He is gliding. It looks so easy for him. The
water just carries him. I am floating. I didn't have
to try my legs, just knew what to do. The
water feels different now, it feels kind.
Speaker 1: And look the other swans are gathering around him. They
are dipping their heads. They are accepting him. He's in
the middle now, he looks happy.
Speaker 4: It is quiet here in the middle. I don't feel
like the gray bird anymore. I don't feel like the
ugly one. I just feel real. I am home.
Speaker 1: I am home. That is the feeling of acceptance.
Speaker 3: He has stopped worrying. He is just resting on the water,
letting it hold him. He has found his place. And
because he is settled, I think we've found what we
came for.
Speaker 1: Look, Max, the rose gold light is fading. It's cooling down,
turning into a soft, misty lavender blue. The bright sun
of the garden is dimming.
Speaker 2: It's the dream gate. It's like a soft fog opening up.
Speaker 3: The living glow is here. The time for trying is over.
The dream gate is open because the acceptance is complete.
We can leave the garden behind.
Speaker 1: Come, let's drift through softly, softly into Nocturnia.
Speaker 2: It's really quiet here. The air feels thick, cozy.
Speaker 3: We have arrived at the reflection pool in Nocturnia. The
water here is deep and still darker than the night sky,
but very safe. It is the color of sleep.
Speaker 1: Everything moves slowly here. Look out across the water. There
are no ripples, and there, drifting without a sound is
our friend, the swan.
Speaker 2: He's barely moving he's just floating.
Speaker 3: He has crossed over to Nocturnia to return the dream word.
Watch him in his beak. He is carrying a single,
small gray feather. It is the memory of feeling different.
Speaker 1: He is taking it to the dream tree. Do you
see it on the little island. Its branches hang low,
touching the water. The leaves are glowing gently, pulsing in
time with your breathing in and out.
Speaker 2: He's at the tree. He's lifting his head.
Speaker 3: He is placing the gray feather on the branch. He
is letting it go. He knows he doesn't need to
carry the memory of the cold winter into his sleep.
He doesn't need to remember the feeling of being lonely.
Speaker 1: As the feather touches the dream tree, it turns into
soft silver light. The tree accepts it. The tree holds
it safe. The swan is tucking his head in.
Speaker 2: He's going to sleep.
Speaker 3: He is safe there. He is simply a white shape
on the dark water, still silent, resting.
Speaker 1: And as he rests, the lavender light spreads, covering the
pool and the island in a hush. The day is
fully put away. My eyes feel heavy.
Speaker 3: It is time for us to return to the attic
is waiting. Let's drift back, rising up through the soft
air until we are home.
Speaker 1: Here, we are back in your room. The story light
slips from Gramps's beard. It floats back to the jar, gently,
slowly sinking inside.
Speaker 3: The lid closes softly. The story is safe.
Speaker 1: Max. Feel the bed underneath you. It is solid and steady.
It is here to hold you up. So you don't
have to hold yourself. You can just sink.
Speaker 3: Imagine that your legs are made of warm, heavy sand.
They are sinking deep into the mattress, so heavy, so still.
Speaker 1: Your tummy is soft, rising and falling like a slow
wave on a quiet beach. No effort, just breath.
Speaker 3: Your shoulders are dropping down away from your ears, warm
and loose. Your hands are resting, Your fingers are uncurled,
nothing to hold on to.
Speaker 1: The pillow is a soft cloud under your head. It
cradles you. The blanket is a warm hug wrapped around you.
Someone tucked you in because they love you very much.
Speaker 3: You are held, You are warm, you are loved.
Speaker 2: Everything is finished.
Speaker 1: The day is over. You can let go now. Good night, Max,
Good night, sleepy listener.
Speaker 2: That was a good one, Lamy, I think I'm just
about asleep. Good night.
Speaker 3: The music.
Speaker 4: One one way.
Speaker 3: Commy over the odds, everything to mention to the mis