Speaker 1: You feel held by the garden. You feel held by
Speaker 1: the moment. In the garden, nothing is asked of you,
Speaker 1: nothing is needed from you, nothing is waiting for you.
Speaker 1: You can stay here as long as you like. The
Speaker 1: garden does not track the time. The garden does not
Speaker 1: keep count. The garden simply holds you, the way the
Speaker 1: tree holds the birds that nest in its branches. The
Speaker 1: dream softens at the edges. They have been holding expressions
Speaker 1: all day, surprise, attention, worry, laughter, to night. They are
Speaker 1: invited to do nothing at all. Let the muscles around
Speaker 1: your eyes soften. Let the small muscles of your temples soften,
Speaker 1: Let your jaw soften. Let the space between your teeth
Speaker 1: widen by a fraction. Feel it, steady, Feel it sure.
Speaker 1: You do not need to do anything about your heart.
Speaker 1: Your heart knows what to do. Your heart has been
Speaker 1: beating since before you were born. It will beat long
Speaker 1: after this moment has passed. Trust it, Trust it to
Speaker 1: keep going while you rest. Let your attention sink to
Speaker 1: your belly. Let your belly soften. Let it rise with
Speaker 1: thee in breath, let it fall with the out breath.
Speaker 1: Let them be the path down into sleep. Fifteen fourteen thirteen.
Speaker 1: If your mind wanders, that is all right. The mind wanders.
Speaker 1: The mind is allowed to wander. When you notice it
Speaker 1: has wandered, just return to the number. Return gently, return,
Speaker 1: without judgment. The number will be waiting for you. Twelve
Speaker 1: eleven ten. Each breath takes you deeper, each number takes
Speaker 1: you lower. The body is heavy. Now let your tongue
Speaker 1: rest gently against the roof of your mouth, or curl
Speaker 1: softly at its bottom, whichever feels more natural. Either way,
Speaker 1: the muscle 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. 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 door. The
Speaker 1: world is soft, The world is far away. There are
Speaker 1: only the books, There are only the shelves, There are
Speaker 1: only the soft green lamps, and the worn leather chairs,
Speaker 1: and the thick carpet, and the centuries of stories held
Speaker 1: in the wood and the paper. You close your eyes,
Speaker 1: the library is still there. You can feel it around you,
Speaker 1: the shelves, the books, the soft hum of all the
Speaker 1: words ever written, held quietly in this one place. The
Speaker 1: library softens. You are already arriving at rest. You can
Speaker 1: feel it, can't you That small softening behind your eyes,
Speaker 1: The way your shoulders have already begun to drift lower
Speaker 1: on your back, The slow, almost imperceptible deepening of your breath.
Speaker 1: That is your body telling you something it has always known.
Speaker 1: That rest is not something you earn. Rest is something
Speaker 1: you allow. So allow it right here, right now. The
Speaker 1: shelves fade, the lamps diem, the chair dissolves into the
Speaker 1: feeling of being held. The dream becomes the sense of
Speaker 1: being in a place that is vast and quiet and kind.
Speaker 1: Your head does not need to do anything tonight except rest.
Speaker 1: Let your attention come to your neck, to the muscles
Speaker 1: along the sides of your throat, to the small muscles
Speaker 1: at the base of your skull. Feel them lengthen, feel
Speaker 1: them soften. They have been holding your head up all
Speaker 1: day tonight they are allowed to rest. Let your shoulders drop,
Speaker 1: Let them drop toward the bed, Let them settle. The
Speaker 1: air 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 near by.
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. The chairs hold the shape of the people
Speaker 1: who have rested here. You sit in one of the chairs.
Speaker 1: The chair receives you. The chair has been waiting for you.
Speaker 1: The leather is cool at first, then warms to your body.
Speaker 1: On the desk in front of you, there is an
Speaker 1: open book. You do not remember opening it. The book
Speaker 1: is open to a page with no words, only an image.
Speaker 1: The image is of a window. The garden becomes less distinct,
Speaker 1: the path, the bench, the heron the tree. They fade
Speaker 1: gently into a wash of green and gold and warmth.
Speaker 1: The garden does not disappear. The garden becomes a feeling.
Speaker 1: The garden becomes a sense of being held the garden
Speaker 1: becomes the peace you carry with you as you sleep,
Speaker 1: And then we really become. The garden becomes a fair.
Speaker 1: The lamps have green glass shades. The light they give
Speaker 1: is warm. The light