Hello,
Dear friend.
I'm Anna.
I'd like to welcome you home.
To Whisperwood.
Come in and make yourself comfortable.
Kettle is warm,
The fire is glowing softly in the hearth.
And your favorite chair.
Is waiting for you.
Right here,
Beside the window.
Whether this is your first time to Whisperwood.
Or whether you've wandered these gentle paths many times before.
I'm so very glad you found your way here tonight.
Now.
Before we go any further.
Take a slow,
Comfortable breath.
Take it in slowly.
Through the nose.
And gently let it go out through the mouth.
And again,
In and out.
And out.
Sigh it out.
And another.
In,
And out.
Now,
Allow your breath.
To find its natural rhythm.
As you settle into your dream nest.
Whether it's your bed.
You're safer.
Or wherever.
You are most comfortable.
To rest and relax.
As you pull your covers gently around you.
You notice.
The sound of rain outside.
Big fat drops of rain.
Are starting slowly at first.
But as you listen.
.
.
You sense them gathering pace.
And then you realize.
How warm and cozy you feel here.
Safe.
In this comfortable cottage.
Outside the animals of Whisperwood.
Are also finding sheltered places to snuggle into.
Mrs.
Pym.
Our business like robbing.
Knows everything that happens in Whisperwood.
Quite often before it knows itself.
She has shut the post and provisions barn from where she creates thimbleberry tea,
Dispenses licorice buttons for headaches,
And ensures that everything in Whisperwood ticks along as it should.
For now,
She has tucked her head beneath her wing.
On the low branches of a nearby cork oak tree.
Sheltered from the wind.
And the rain.
Sir Fergus Puddingfoot.
Our friendly badger.
Is safe in his burrow.
Sipping a fine cup of tea.
Alginate P.
Trimble.
Has curled his hedgehog's spines up tight.
Making himself.
Into a compact little ball.
And nestled into his favourite thicket of brambles on the edge of the woodland.
Where he will stay safe.
And dry.
Lily The beautiful white feline of Whisperwood,
With her sparkling turquoise eyes,
Is about to tiptoe in through the cat flap.
Of the front door of this cottage.
She knows where there is a crackling fire and how to keep warm.
On a night like tonight?
Soon she will be snuggled up in front of the fire.
Herring.
Keeping you company.
That only leaves Oinkerella.
Our favourite pink piglet with grey splotches.
She is tucked away safely in the barn at her farm.
With her best friend,
Caramello.
A sturdy horse.
Everyone is safe.
You.
Are safe.
Everyone is snug.
You.
Are snug.
And everyone.
Releases.
Great sigh.
As you breathe out.
Feel your shoulders gently drop.
Let any tension in your face.
And your jaw.
And your neck.
Simply melt away.
There is nothing more you need to do now.
As you allow your mind to relax.
From the day.
As you listen to the weather outside your cottage door.
You here.
The bitter patter of raindrops.
Landing on the roof.
And splashing.
Against the window panes.
It is so reassuring to be safe and sound in this cocoon.
As the night.
Becomes more and more wild.
And so,
For now.
.
.
There is nothing else you need to think about.
Nothing you need to remember.
Nothing you need to arrange.
The rain is taking care of the night.
And you can simply listen.
Perhaps you notice the different sounds the rain makes.
The Soft Pattern.
Upon the roof.
The little splashes against the windowsill.
The occasional heavier drops.
Tumble from the branches of the cork oaks.
Beneath it all.
The steady rhythm of the rain.
Ancient rain.
Rain that has fallen for centuries.
Generation after generation.
Long before us.
And long.
After us.
Always the same.
Passion.
It's bitter.
Better.
There is something wonderfully reassuring about rain when you are warm and dry inside.
Outside.
Woodland.
Baby dog.
And wet and blustery.
Here.
Inside your little cottage.
Everything.
Just as it should be.
The fire glows softly in the heart.
The room.
Is born.
Your soft covers like gossamer.
Tucked around you.
And Lily.
Has found her place.
Beside the fire.
She circles once.
Then twice.
And finally.
.
.
Settles down.
With a soft.
Satisfied sigh.
A moment later.
A purring begins.
Steady.
Contented.
And somehow.
.
.
Between the sound of the rain.
Gentle rumble of Lily's purr.
You feel yourself.
Thinking.
A little deeper.
Into your coziness.
Outside.
A gust of wind moves through the trees.
Branches sway.
The rain clatters a little harder against the windows.
And then.
.
.
Just as quickly.
It softens again.
A storm is passing through.
There is nothing you need to do about it.
You don't need to make the rain stop.
You don't need to make the wind calm.
You don't need.
To make the night.
Any different.
From the way it is.
You can simply Let it be.
And perhaps.
.
.
You can allow yourself.
The same kindness.
You don't have to change anything tonight.
You don't have to work anything out.
You don't have to solve tomorrow before it arrives.
Tonight.
Belongs to rest.
Tomorrow.
Can wait.
Until tomorrow.
Take another slow.
Comfortable breath.
And as you breathe out,
Imagine the last little pieces of the day.
Leaving you.
The things you didn't finish.
The things you forgot.
The things you wish you'd done differently.
They're things.
Can wait.
Let them all drift away with the rain.
You don't need to hold them tonight.
The rain.
Can hold them for you.
Drop your shoulders a little more.
At your hands.
Become soft.
Let your jaw Loosen.
A little bit more.
The muscles.
Around your eyes.
Become heavy.
And feel the wonderful weight of your body.
Being supported.
Exactly where you are.
Your bed.
Is supporting you.
Your covers are supporting you.
The Cottage.
Is sheltering you.
And whisper words.
Is resting.
All around you.
Somewhere.
Beyond the cottage.
Branch.
Gives a gentle creak.
The rain continues.
The fire gives a tiny crackle.
Lily.
Purrs.
All around Whisperwood.
Little creatures are sleeping.
Mrs.
Pym.
Is tucked safely.
Beneath her wing.
Sir Fergus.
Warm and cozy in his burrow.
His teacup.
Resting beside him.
Algernon is curled into his little bramble thicket.
Dreaming whatever hedgehogs dream about.
Icarella and Caramello.
Are sleeping peacefully.
In the barn.
Everyone.
Is safe.
Everyone is warm.
Everyone.
Is resting.
And so are you.
There is nowhere else you need to go tonight.
You have arrived.
You are home.
And the brain will keep watch for a little while longer.
It will wash over the roof.
People dance upon the casement.
Will fall softly.
Onto the grass.
And you can listen.
Roar!
You can drift away from the sound.
There is nothing you need to do.
You notice your thoughts.
Are becoming hushed.
They may.
Even.
Begin to wander.
That's perfectly all right.
You don't need to follow them.
You don't even.
Need.
To listen to me.
You can let my voice become part of the rain.
Let go of everything.
Simply drift.
If another worry appears.
Let the rain carry it away.
If you find yourself wondering what time it is.
You don't need to know.
There is plenty of time left.
It's stretching out in front of you for as long as you need to rest.
The fire burns quietly.
The rain falls gently.
Lily continues to purr.
And the whole of Whisperwood.
Seems to breathe with you.
In.
And out.
Yum.
And ouch!
Slower now.
Softer now.
Deeper now.
Outside,
The storm is beginning to move further away.
The rain has become softer,
Almost a whisper.
The branches of the old cork oaks.
Are still again.
And the woodland.
Settles.
Into its deepest sleep.
And the last thing you hear is the gentle patter of rain upon the roof.
And perhaps.
.
.
Just before you drift away completely.
You remember.
You are safe.
You are warm.
You are home.
Nothing.
Is required of you.
Just rest.
Just breathe.
Just sleep.
Good night,
Dear friend.
Sleep peacefully.
Whisperwood will be here when you awake.
Good night.
Goodnight,
Whisperwood.
Good night.
You you you you you Mmm.
