Speaker 1: The day is finished. Whatever you carried through it, the meetings,
Speaker 1: the errands, the conversations that asked more of you than
Speaker 1: you had to give, You can set it all down now,
Speaker 1: not to morrow, not in an hour. Now picture yourself
Speaker 1: walking to the door of a room you have not
Speaker 1: entered in a long time. The door is old, the
Speaker 1: door is heavy. It has a brass knob that is
Speaker 1: slightly cool to the touch.
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 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. You find yourself in a garden.
Speaker 1: The garden is not a place you have been before,
Speaker 1: though it feels familiar. The garden has the quality of
Speaker 1: a place you might have dreamed as a child, soft edged, gentle,
Speaker 1: lit by a light that has no visible source. There
Speaker 1: is a path in the garden. The path is made
Speaker 1: of small, smooth stones. The stones are cool underfoot. The
Speaker 1: world will still be there in the morning, but it
Speaker 1: does not need you tonight. On the other side of
Speaker 1: the door, the body rests. The body is heavy, the
Speaker 1: body is warm. The body is held by the bed.
Speaker 1: The body is held by the blankets. The body is
Speaker 1: held by the night. On the other side of the door,
Speaker 1: the breath slows. The breath becomes almost nothing. The breath
Speaker 1: becomes the smallest rise and fall. In the garden there
Speaker 1: are places to sit. There is a stone bench half
Speaker 1: covered in moss. There is a wooden chair beneath an arbor.
Speaker 1: There is a low wall at the garden's edge where
Speaker 1: you could sit and look out over the rest of
Speaker 1: the garden. You do not need to sit, but the
Speaker 1: garden offers these places. The garden is generous with its rest.
Speaker 1: The light in the garden does not change. The light
Speaker 1: is always the same. The dark is the kind of
Speaker 1: dark that wraps itself around you like a heavy blanket.
Speaker 1: You can see if you look the faintest suggestion of
Speaker 1: trees at the edge of the property. The trees are still.
Speaker 1: The trees are sleeping too. There is a clock in
Speaker 1: the room. The clock is not ticking. The clock is
Speaker 1: silent tonight. Time does not need to be measured tonight.
Speaker 1: Time will pass on its own without any help from us.
Speaker 1: You are already arriving at rest. You can feel it,
Speaker 1: can't you. That small softening behind your eyes, The way
Speaker 1: your shoulders have already begun to drift lower on your back,
Speaker 1: The slow, almost imperceptible deepening of your breath. That is
Speaker 1: your body telling you something it has always known. That
Speaker 1: rest is not something you earn. Rest is something you allow.
Speaker 1: So allow it right here, right now, Let them be
Speaker 1: the path down into sleep. Fifteen fourteen thirteen. If your
Speaker 1: mind wanders, that is all right. The mind wanders. The
Speaker 1: mind is allowed to wander. When you notice it has wandered,
Speaker 1: just return to the number. Return gently, return without judgment.
Speaker 1: The number will be waiting for you. Twelve eleven ten.
Speaker 1: Each breath takes you deeper, each number takes you lower.
Speaker 1: The body is heavy. Now. Your mind is allowed to
Speaker 1: be busy. Your mind does not need to be quiet
Speaker 1: for sleep to come. Sleep comes even with a busy mind.
Speaker 1: Sleep comes even with thoughts. Sleep comes e when you
Speaker 1: don't think it's coming. Sleep comes on its own schedule.
Speaker 1: Trust the sleep to come. You are loved. You are
Speaker 1: loved by people you know You are loved by people
Speaker 1: you have never met. You are loved by the night itself.
Speaker 1: You are exactly where you are supposed to be, in
Speaker 1: this bed, in this breath, in this moment, you are
Speaker 1: allowed to rest. Rest is not laziness. Rest is not weakness.
Speaker 1: Rest is the foundation of everything else. Without rest, nothing works.
Speaker 1: With rest, everything becomes possible. You are worthy of this sleap.
Speaker 1: You are worthy of this piece. You are worthy of
Speaker 1: being held by the night. 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, gripping 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. The grass is the green
Speaker 1: of new growth. In the center of the circle, there
Speaker 1: is a single tree, and the tree is old. The
Speaker 1: tree is large. The tree's branches spread wide, making a
Speaker 1: canopy of leaves that filters the light into dappled patterns
Speaker 1: on the grass. You sit beneath the tree. You lean
Speaker 1: against the trunk. The trunk is solid, the trunk is
Speaker 1: warm from the sun. You feel held by the tree.
Speaker 1: The chairs hold the shape of the people who have
Speaker 1: rested here. You sit in one of the chairs. The
Speaker 1: chair is