The Page That Opens In The Dark

For those 3am moments when your mind opens a page and starts reading it aloud. This very gentle practice combines soothing imagery with the softest form of tapping, with fingertips simply resting on each point, helping racing night time thoughts settle, so sleep can find its own way back. No sitting up, no effort, no fighting for sleep.
If your waking hours could use the same kindness, you'll find my course - Starting Your Day With A Calm Mind, where we greet the morning's fresh page together.

Transcript

Hello, Hello, Hello. And if you're listening to this, It's probably the middle of the night and you're awake. When you'd rather not be. Perhaps you woke suddenly and your mind was already busy before you knew what was happening. Perhaps the thoughts are racing, Things from yesterday, Things about tomorrow. And things that feel enormous right now in the dark. 3 in the morning has a way of making everything feel urgent. So before anything else, Let me say this. You don't need to fight to get back to sleep. That fight is exactly what keeps us awake. All you need to do is rest here with my voice for a little while. Sleep can come in its own time and it usually does once we stop chasing it. So stay exactly as you are, Lying comfortably. There's nothing to sit up for. Let your eyes stay closed and let your body be heavy in your bed. And breathe slowly in. And slowly out. Nothing forced. Just a little longer on each out breath if that feels easy. So breathing in. And then breathing out for a little longer I'd like to offer you a gentle way of seeing what's happening right now. Imagine your mind as a journal. And just now in the dark. The page has fallen open. Perhaps it's yesterday's page, Still busy with everything the day held. Perhaps it's tomorrow's, Filling itself in before tomorrow has even arrived. Either way. Your mind has opened a page and started reading it aloud. At the one time of the day when nothing can actually be done about it. And that's the kind of truth to rest on. Nothing on that page needs you right now. Nothing can be solved at this hour and nothing needs to be. The night isn't for solving. The night is for resting. And even quiet rest without sleep is nourishing your body more than the racing thoughts would have you believe. So we're not going to argue with the thoughts and we're not going to chase them away. We're simply going to let the page close itself. Little by little, The way a flower closes at night. Slowly, Without effort. To help the body settle, We'll use the softest version of tapping there is. You don't need to sit up and you barely need to move. You can tap so lightly it's almost a touch. Or you can simply rest your fingertips on each point and breathe there. Resting is enough tonight. And I'll guide you to each place slowly. So taking gentle responsibility for yourself and your wellbeing. Repeat each phrase after me, Silently, In your own mind. Slow and sleepy. There's no rush at all. So letting your fingertips find the eyebrow point which is at the inner end of the eyebrow near the nose. And resting or tapping softly on the eyebrow point. Say. A page has opened in the dark. And then drifting with your fingers to the side of the eye. Say. And my thoughts are reading it aloud. Moving to underneath the eye on the bone. Say. But nothing on this page needs me tonight. Go to under the nose. And say, These thoughts can wait until morning. Moving to the crease and the chin, Say. They always seem smaller in the light. Drop down to the collarbones. Using a soft, Flat hand resting here is lovely and say, I let the page begin to close. And move to under the arm or simply resting your hand against your side. Say, Like a flower closing for the night. And moving your hands to rest on the top of the head, Say, I'm safe and warm and resting. Letting your hands come back to rest now, Wherever they're heaviest and most comfortable. So one more round of words, No tapping needed at all this time. You can lay your hands on your collarbones or on your heart area. And just breathe slowly with me. And say as you're breathing in, I am resting. Breathing out and resting is enough. Breathing in, My body knows the way to sleep. Breathing out. And I let it find its own way there. Breathing in. The page is closing. Breathing out. And so it is. And allow your hands to come to rest where it feels comfortable. And there's nothing left to do now, Nothing to repeat, Nothing to follow, Just my voice getting quieter and your breath getting slower. If a thought drifts past, Let it be a leaf on dark water, Floating by. Touching nothing, Needing nothing. The page is closing. The night is holding you. The bed is warm beneath you. Morning will bring a fresh page, It always does. But that page belongs to mourning. This hour belongs to rest. So rest now. Drift when drifting comes and if sleep arrives before my voice fades How lovely. Let it take you. Good night. Sleep softly.