De-Stress Your Body Tonight: Deep Healing Meditation

If stress stopped being a bad week a long time ago, and your jaw and shoulders can’t remember what off feels like, this session is for you. Tonight, stress can take the night off while your body gets a proper chance to recover.
Guided by Chibs Okereke, this practice opens with a simple explanation of how a slower breath reaches the vagus nerve and tells your body it can come off alert. A slow body scan then moves from the top of the head to the feet, lingering in the jaw, shoulders, belly, and lower back, before a garden at the end of a long, dry summer offers a picture to rest on. Gentle affirmations continue quietly as you drift into sleep.
Soft pink noise plays underneath throughout, holding a calm, settled state through the night

Transcript

Just take a moment to notice your jaw. If it's tight right now. And you didn't clench it on purpose. Then that's stress still on duty. So tonight. . . Stress can take the night off. Hey, I'm Chibs Okereke and welcome to tonight's sleep meditation for chronic stress, For deep healing and recovery. Now. Maybe this isn't just a hard week. Maybe it's been months. And your body can't quite remember the last time it was properly off duty. So tonight. . . Are we giving your body something it hasn't had in a while? A proper chance to recover. When the body feels safe enough to rest, The breath eases and the vagus nerve tells the whole body it can come off alert. And once the body is off alert. And sleep can get on with its real work. Repair. There's no need to follow every word tonight. And if sleep arrives before we're done. Then that's the point. If you wake up at some point. The sounds can carry you back down. So let's begin by getting comfortable. If it feels good. Turning onto whichever side the body likes best. Maybe tucking the covers in around the shoulders. Or sliding a pillow under the knees. Whatever helps the body to feel held for the next little while. And if you're already comfortable. You're welcome to stay exactly as you are. If it feels right. Allowing the eyes to gently close. And now. Noticing the places where the body meets the bed. Noticing the head. Resting in the pillow. Noticing the shoulders. And the back. The backs of the legs. And the heels. All of that weight is being carried by the bed now. And the bed doesn't get tired. So allowing yourself to fully let go now. And if you'd like. Resting one or two hands on the belly. Or leaving the hands exactly where they are. For a lot of us. Long-term stress settles in the belly. A low hum of tension that's been there so long that the tension just feels normal. Warm hand resting there is a simple way of keeping the belly company tonight. And now. Bringing a little attention to the breath. There's nothing to change here. Nothing to do with the breath at all. We are just noticing the breath coming in and noticing the breath going out. Maybe we're feeling the belly rise under the hand as we breathe in. And then fall again as we breathe out. Maybe we're feeling the breath in the chest. Or the cool air at the nose. And if the breath is a bit quick. Or a bit shallow. That's okay. When stress has been around for a long time. A quicker breath is simply the body's habit. Nothing's gone wrong. So we're just watching the breath for a while. An orphan. The breath is watched without being controlled or pushed. Breath begins to slow down by itself. Perhaps the in-breath is getting a little fuller. And the out-breath getting a little softer. A little less hurried. Just noticing the next breath in. And the next breath out. The next breath in. And the next breath out. And each one of those slower breaths out is doing something useful. Every time the breath slows, That message travels on through the body. Slowing the heart a little. Easing the belly. Turning down the alarm that's been running in the background. We don't have to make that happen. The body already knows how. And now. A moment to check in. With how you're arriving tonight. There's no need to explain anything. There's no need to work anything out. But if tonight had a word or two. What might those words be? Maybe. Intense. May be worn down. Maybe on edge. Or flat. Or heavy. Or running on empty. And if no word comes to mind. Or if all the words come at once. That's okay. Whatever's here. Can simply be here for now. The body's been carrying a lot. For a long time. And for some of us. Being on duty all the time. Started so long ago. That we've forgotten what off feels like. That's not a failing. That's just what happens when a body's had to stay ready for a long time. You're safe here. And tonight. The body doesn't have to stay ready. And now. We're going to move slowly through the body. From the top of the head. All the way down to the feet. There is no rush and no right way to do this. At each place, We're simply noticing and then allowing the muscles to let go, A little at a time. Because when the muscles let go, The body can stop spending its energy on holding. And it can start spending that energy on repair and recovery. So let's begin at the top of the head. Noticing the scalp. And allowing the scalp to soften. Moving to the forehead now. Allowing the forehead to smooth out. Even slightly. Long-term stress often shows up here as a small frown we didn't know we were making. And the frown can rest now. Moving our awareness to the eyes. Allowing the eyes to rest. Heavy behind the eyelids. The little muscles around the eyes. Letting go. Moving to the cheeks now. The mouth. And the jaw. The same jaw we notice right at the start. Jaw has been on duty for a long time. Bracing. And clenching. Through the day and sometimes through the night as well. So noticing now whether the teeth are touching. And if they are. Allowing a little space between them. Allowing the jaw to hang loose. And heavy. Allowing the tongue to rest wide and easy in the mouth. And if the jaw tightens again. That's okay. The jaws had a lot of practice at holding on. So we can simply notice. And then allow the jaw to soften again. This is how the body lands. One softening at a time. Moving our awareness to the neck now. Allowing the throat. To be soft. Noticing the back of the neck. Allowing the pillow to take the whole weight of the head. And moving our awareness to the shoulders. Noticing whether the shoulders are lifted. Even a little. As if they've been ready for something for months. And if they are. Allowing the shoulders to drop. Just by a few millimetres. And then a few millimeters more for a lot of us. The shoulders haven't properly come down in a long time. So there's no need to force them. Every little bit the shoulders soften tonight. That counts. Bringing our awareness to the upper arms. Allowing them to be heavy. Allowing the elbows to be loose. The forearms. Resting lightly. The hands. Open. Soft. And warm. The fingers uncurling. One by one. Moving to the chest now noticing the chest rising. And falling. All on its own. And if there's tightness across the chest. We don't need to push the tightness away but just allowing a little more room around it. Each time we breathe in. And then we're allowing the chest to settle. Each time we breathe out. Underneath the ribs. The heart has been keeping pace with everything. And tonight. The heart can take its time. Moving to the belly now. Maybe the hands are still resting there. Or maybe the hands have slid away by now. And that's fine too. The belly is where a lot of long-term stress likes to live. Held in. Knotted. Embraced. Without us even noticing. So if it feels comfortable. Allowing the belly to be soft. Rounder on the breath in. And easier on the breath out. And if softening the belly feels like too much to note. And softening just a little is plenty. And while the belly softens. The body can get back to everything the belly does best when it isn't braced. Digesting. Settling. Repairing. Bringing our awareness to the upper back now. Allowing the shoulder blades to settle into the bed. The back widening. As the bed takes the weight. Moving to the lower back now another place that stress likes to hide. Allowing the muscles either side of the spine to let go. As if they've been holding us up for months. And can finally put the weight down. Moving to the hips now. Heavy. And settled. The pelvis. Resting wide and easy. The thighs. Releasing. The knees. Soft. Moving down into the carbs. Allowing the carves to loosen. Bringing awareness to the ankles. And the feet. The heels resting. The toes. Uncurling. And relaxing. And now expanding our awareness. So we're feeling the whole body at once. From the top of the head. To the tips of the fingers and the toes. We're not looking at the body in detail. Just the general sense of the whole body. Resting. Hell. Off duty. Some places might have let go completely. Some places might still be holding on a little. And that's okay. When stress has been around for months. The body doesn't let go of all of it in one night. And the body doesn't need to. Set to nine. There's a lot you don't have to do. You don't have to undo months of stress before you go to sleep. You don't have to earn your recovery. And you don't have to do anything to make the healing happen. So much of the body's repair work happens while we sleep. Muscles recovering. The immune system catching up. The brain sorting and storing the day. And all of that happens without us watching over it. The body does that work in the dark. While we rest. So one night won't fix everything. And one night doesn't need to. Every night like this counts. You've been carrying so much. For so long. And tonight. You're allowed to put some of it down. And if a thought turns up. A worry. A plan. Something still waiting to be done. That's okay. The mind has been on duty for months as well So if it helps. Imagining writing the thought down on a note. Leaving the note on the kitchen table for the morning. The thought isn't lost. The thought's just waiting where you'll find it. And for tonight. Nobody has to hold on to it. And if the same thought comes back. That's okay too. Just another note. On the table. For the morning. And now. If it feels good. I invite you to imagine a garden. A garden at the end of a long day. Dry Summer. Maybe it's a garden you know. Maybe it's somewhere you've never been. Just a garden. It's gone a long time without rain. The grass is pale. The leaves are tired. And a little curled at the edges. And the soil is hard. And dry. And cracked in places. Nobody did anything wrong here. This garden has just had a long day. Dry season. And now. It's night. The air is cooler. And the clouds have come in. Low and soft. Over the garden. And Ben. Slowly. The rain begins. Are soft. Steadyrain. The kind of rain that could go on all night. And at first. The dry ground can't take much of it in. The water sits on top. Or runs off to the side. The soil has been dry for so long. That the soil has forgotten how to soak anything up. And maybe rest has felt a bit like that lately. Lying down. And the rest not quite going in. And that's okay. Because the rain keeps falling. Steady. Patient. In no hurry at all. And little by little. The surface of the soil begins to soften. The cracks begin to close. And the water starts to go in. A few millimeters at a time. Past the surface. And around the roots. The roots taking in what they need. Slowly. In the dark. Nobody has to water this garden. Nobody has to stand over it. Checking that the rain is working. The rain does the work. The Garden. It just has to be there. And maybe the body is like that tonight. The rest and recovery going in. Slowly. Into the jaw. Into the shoulders into the belly. Into the lower back. Softening those places that have been dry and tight for so long. Through the night. The rain keeps falling. And the garden keeps drinking. Nobody watching. Nothing to manage. And by the morning. The soil will be dark. And soft. And a little fuller than it was. The leaves a little less tired than they were. And one night of rain won't undo a whole summer. But every night like this counts. And from here. There's nothing more to do. The words getting fewer now. The body heavier. And warmer. The breath slower. All on its own. The rain still falling. Somewhere on the garden. The body taking its time. The body's off duty. For the whole night. Nothing to watch over. Nothing to get right. Just this bed. This breath. And this night. And now. A few gentle phrases can drift softly in the background. There's nothing to learn here. They'll just go on softly in the background. As the body rests. My body is allowed to take the night off. I don't have to stay on duty tonight. It's safe for my body to rest now. Every slow breath out helps my body recover. My body knows how to repair while I sleep. I don't have to earn my rest. I don't have to fix everything tonight. My jaw can rest, My shoulders can drop and my belly can soften. Rest and recovery are going in a little at a time. Every night like this counts. My body is healing. Even while I sleep. I can put some of this down now. Whatever's on my mind can wait until morning. Recovery can take its time. If I waken the night, The rest keeps going in and I drift back down. My body's catching up on what it's missed. I'm held and I'm allowed to rest. Sleep can come in its own time. My body is allowed to take the night off. I don't have to stay on duty tonight. It's safe for my body to rest now. Every slow breath out helps my body recover. My body knows how to repair while I sleep. I don't have to earn my rest. I don't have to fix everything tonight. My jaw can rest, My shoulders can drop and my belly can soften. Rest and recovery are going in, A little at a time. Every night like this counts. My body is healing. Even while I sleep. I can put some of this down now. Whatever's on my mind can wait until morning. Recovery can take its time. If I wake in the night, The rest keeps going in and I drift back down. My body's catching up on what it's missed. I'm held and I'm allowed to rest. Sleep can come in its own time. And from here. My voice will begin to fade. And gentle sounds will stay with you. Through the rest of the night. Returning now to the breath. The slow rhythm of breathing in and breathing out. The breath finding its own pace. Slower now. With nothing asked of it. The jaw loose. The shoulders down. Belly soft. The lower back. Letting go. The hips heavy. The legs resting. The whole body of duty. For the whole night. Nothing left to hold. The rest and recovery going in. A little at a time. Like rain on a dry garden. Steady. And patient. Soaking slowly in. Nothing to watch over. Nothing to check. Body. Doing its work. In the dark. The gentle sounds around us. Low and steady. Carrying on without us. Thoughts coming less often now. Drifting further away. Leaving on their own. No list to get through tonight. Nothing. To get ready for. Nothing left to carry. Just this bad. Just this breath. And we're safe in the dark. The bed holding all of it. Body repairing as we rest. Warmer. Heavier. More deeply rested. Softening. Settling. Letting go. The garden drinking in the rain. The body taking in the rest. And tonight counting too. The gentle sounds staying close. Wrapping around us. Carrying us through until morning. Drifting now. Easing gently. Into a deep. Repairing sleep.

Reviews

That was the best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time. Thank you…