Hello.
My name is Thariru Mundawarara.
I'm host of Stories from the Soul and author of the Circling Back newsletter.
I try and help people rebuild a trusting,
Compassionate relationship with themselves so that they can meet whatever life brings from a place of instability,
Clarity,
And presence.
Hopefully,
This practice will put you to sleep.
And if it does help you surrender the sleep threshold,
Or if you're still learning how or you have questions afterwards,
Hopefully once you wake up,
I'd love to hear from you.
Please leave a comment and let me know.
Were you able to stop trying tonight or is there something else your wakefulness is asking you to hear?
Sometimes sharing what's true helps us all feel a little less alone.
Rest well,
My friend,
Or stay awake.
Either way,
You're exactly where you need to be.
If you've been lying awake for hours,
Calm,
But unable to sleep,
This is for you.
Perhaps your body is tired.
Perhaps your mind is quiet.
You're doing everything right and yet,
Sleep continues to hide around that corner.
But here's what's actually happening.
The problem isn't that you can't sleep,
It's that you're trying to catch yourself falling asleep.
I'll say that again.
You're trying to catch yourself falling asleep.
And every time we get close to that threshold,
You pull yourself back just to check if it's working.
Tonight,
We're not going to try to fall asleep.
We're going to practice not caring if we do.
There's a space between waking and sleeping.
A threshold,
A doorway perhaps.
And you've been standing in that doorway for a long time now,
One foot in,
One foot out,
Waiting to see if you'll cross over.
But the moment you check to see if you're falling asleep,
You wake yourself up,
Not because you're broken,
Not because something's wrong,
Not because you're anxious,
But because the act of watching prevents the arrival.
Sleep doesn't come when we're looking for it,
It comes when we stop looking.
You can't catch the moment you fall.
You can only notice you've landed.
The threshold was never meant to be crossed,
Only surrendered to.
And now let's take some time to slow everything down.
What we're going to do is we're going to take two breaths,
And deep inhale through your nose,
We will hold it at the top.
And then exhale through your mouth,
Letting your whole body soften,
And an audible exhale.
Let's try that.
Deep breath in through your nose,
And hold it at the top.
And now an exhale through your mouth,
Letting your whole body relax and soften.
And again,
Deep inhale through your nose,
And hold.
And an exhale and sigh it out,
Letting go of the need to control what comes next.
One more time,
Inhale,
And exhale,
Surrendering to this moment,
Exactly as it is.
And when you're ready,
Let your eyes soften and gently close.
Feel the weight of your body.
Notice where you're being held,
The mattress beneath you,
The pillow cradling your head,
The sheets resting on your skin.
And let your shoulders drop away from your ears,
Soften your jaw.
Allow your tongue to rest gently in your mouth.
And now simply notice the breath moving in,
And the breath moving out.
There's nowhere you need to go,
Nothing you'd need to achieve,
Not even sleep.
You have permission,
You are allowed to be here,
Awake,
Resting,
Whole.
And now,
See yourself lying on your back,
But you're not in your bed,
You're floating,
Suspended in warm water.
Water is calm,
Still,
Endless.
There's no shore to swim toward,
No destination to reach.
Just this,
Floating,
Held.
The water beneath you is so dense,
So buoyant,
That you don't have to do anything to stay afloat.
You're not treading water,
You're not swimming.
You're simply suspended,
Simply here,
Held by something greater than yourself.
And as you float,
You notice something.
That every time you wonder,
Am I sinking yet?
You tense up.
Every time you check,
Is this working?
You rise back up to the surface.
But when you stop,
When you stop checking,
Watching,
Wondering,
You begin to drift,
Not down,
Not up,
Just drift.
This is what it means to surrender.
This is what it means to surrender the threshold.
You're not trying to fall,
You're not trying to stay awake,
You're simply allowing yourself to be held,
Without needing to know what comes next.
Sleep is not something you do,
It's something that happens to you.
And it only happens when you stop,
When you stop trying to make it happen.
So tonight,
We practice non-striving,
Not becoming.
We practice floating without needing to know if we're sinking.
Or rising.
And if your brain jolts you awake,
If it pulls you back to the surface,
Just as you're drifting,
Know this.
That jolt is not a failure.
It's your nervous system's last check-in.
It's the part of you that's been keeping watch,
Making sure you're safe,
Making sure you're okay.
And when it jolts you,
It's asking,
Are we still here?
Are we okay?
And in your mind,
You can answer gently and softly,
Yes,
We're still here.
Yes,
We're still safe.
You no longer have to keep watch anymore.
You can rest.
And then,
Without force,
Without frustration,
You return to the water.
You return to floating.
You return to not knowing.
And here's the truth that no one tells you.
You don't have to be asleep to be resting.
You don't have to be unconscious to be healing.
Right now,
In this moment,
Your body is resting.
Your breath is slowing.
Your muscles are softening.
Your nervous system is down-regulating.
Even if you're awake,
Even if sleep hasn't come yet,
You're not failing.
You're resting.
And rest is enough.
So let go of the need to fall asleep.
Let go of the timeline.
Let go of the performance.
And instead,
Stay here.
Float.
You're allowed to rest without sleep.
You're allowed to be awake.
You're allowed to simply be here,
Exactly as you are.
Feel now the water beneath you again.
Notice how it holds you.
You're not sinking.
You're not rising.
You're just here.
Suspended in the dark.
Suspended in the not knowing.
And as you float,
You stop checking.
And as you float,
You stop watching.
You stop waiting for sleep to arrive.
Because you realize this is the arrival.
This moment,
This breath,
This floating,
This is what you've been searching for.
Allow the image of the water to soften now.
Allow the image of the water to soften.
Allow it like mist to dissolve and bring your awareness back to your body.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Feel the rise and fall of your chest.
Feel the way your body is held completely,
Fully,
Without effort.
You are back with you.
You are home.
And where the sleep comes in the next breath or the next hour,
You are safe here.
You are allowed to be here.
You are enough.
And I'm going to leave you here now,
In this space of non-striving,
In this space of floating without destination.
And if sleep arrives,
Welcome it.
If it doesn't,
That's okay too.
You're not performing.
You're not failing.
You are simply here,
Resting.
