Speaker 1: The light is the light of late afternoon on a
Speaker 1: summer day that never ends, soft, golden, warm on the skin.
Speaker 1: There are no shadows, there are no hard edges. The
Speaker 1: garden is lit from everywhere. And nowhere you pass a
Speaker 1: bed of white flowers, the flowers gnad. As you walk past,
Speaker 1: you pass a trellis covered in climbing roses. The roses
Speaker 1: are pale, pink. The roses smell of honey. 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. The herond is part of the dream's stillness.
Speaker 1: You rest your forehead against the glass. The glass is
Speaker 1: cool against your skin. The coolness feels good. The coolness
Speaker 1: reminds you that you are here in this hallway, in
Speaker 1: this house, in this moment, in this house. No one
Speaker 1: is waiting for you. In this house, nothing is required
Speaker 1: of you.
Speaker 2: The garden is where you are safe. You put your
Speaker 2: hand on the glass. The glass is cool, The glass
Speaker 2: is smooth. Through the glass, you can see the trees.
Speaker 2: Through the glass, you can see the path you walked earlier.
Speaker 2: Through the glass, you can see the bench half covered
Speaker 2: in moss. Through the glass, you can see the heron
Speaker 2: still standing in the pond. The heron has not moved.
Speaker 1: The breath is the tide that has reached its lowest point.
Speaker 1: The breath is resting on the other side of the door.
Speaker 1: The mind quiets not because the mind has stopped, not
Speaker 1: because the mind has gone away, but because the mind
Speaker 1: has finally decided it is safe enough to stop. The
Speaker 1: mind has decided to rest. The mind has decided to
Speaker 1: let you sleep, And so you sleep. The night holds you.
Speaker 1: The night is long. You fight 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.
Speaker 3: The path winds gently between beds, of plants you cannot
Speaker 3: quite name. The plants are not exotic. The plants are
Speaker 3: the kind of plants you might find in any quiet garden, leafy, soft,
Speaker 3: varieded in their greens. You walk the path slowly. You
Speaker 3: do not have to reach any destination. You are walking
Speaker 3: because walking feels good. The stones massage the soles of
Speaker 3: your feet. The air is warm.
Speaker 1: The lamps have green glass shades. The light they give
Speaker 1: is warm. The light is gentle on the eyes. The
Speaker 1: light is the kind of light you want when you
Speaker 1: are reading late into the night. You walk between the shelves.
Speaker 1: Your footsteps are quiet on the thick carpet that covers
Speaker 1: the floor. The carpet is patterned in deep breads and blues.
Speaker 1: The carpet is old. The carpet is soft. Let your
Speaker 1: tongue rest gently against the roof of your mouth, or
Speaker 1: curl softly at its bottom, whichever feels more natural. Either way,
Speaker 1: 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 You do
Speaker 1: not need to read. You only need to hold the book.
Speaker 1: You only need to feel its hape. You put the
Speaker 1: book back. You pull another. This one is larger. This
Speaker 1: one is bound in green. The pages are heavier, the
Speaker 1: pages are edged in gold. You open it to a
Speaker 1: random page. There is an illustration, a woodcut of a tree,
Speaker 1: of a figure walking beneath the tree of a sky
Speaker 1: full of stars. The illustration is simple. You are in
Speaker 1: a house. The house is not yours, though it feels
Speaker 1: like it could be. The house has the quality of
Speaker 1: a house from a story you read as a child,
Speaker 1: or a house from a dream you had once and forgot.
Speaker 1: The house is large. The house is empty of other people,
Speaker 1: but not empty of presence. The house feels inhabited by
Speaker 1: the memory of every one who has ever lived here.
Speaker 1: The floors remember feet. Let your attention rise very gently
Speaker 1: to the top of your head, to the crown, to
Speaker 1: the soft place where the hair begins. That place is quiet,
Speaker 1: now that place is letting go. Feel the muscles of
Speaker 1: your forehead, the small muscles above your eyebrows, the tiny
Speaker 1: muscles at the corners of your eyes. Feel them soften,
Speaker 1: feel them release, Feel it steady, feel it sure. You
Speaker 1: do not need to do anything about your heart. Your
Speaker 1: heart knows what to do. Your heart has been beating
Speaker 1: since before you were born. It will beat long after