The lights are off,
Your head's on the pillow,
And some part of you is still holding on.
Maybe it's your jaw,
Clenched like the day isn't over yet.
Maybe it's a tight chest.
Or legs that still feel ready to get up and go somewhere.
The mind has gone to bed.
But nobody's told the body.
Hey,
I'm Chibs Okereke and welcome to tonight's Vagus Nerve Sleep Meditation for when your body won't stand down.
Tonight we're going to give your body the message it missed.
That the day is over.
And it's safe to stop.
That message travels along the vagus nerve.
From the base of the skull,
Past the heart and down into the belly.
And a breath out that's a little longer than the breath in.
Is how we send it.
And the message is simple.
We're done for today.
There's nothing here you need to follow closely.
If sleep turns up halfway through a sentence,
That's a good night's work.
The Little Way In.
My voice will begin to fade out.
And gentle sounds will keep going.
So fast.
Let's get the body comfortable.
If it feels good.
Turning the pillow to the cool side.
Maybe moving the hips an inch.
Maybe tucking the covers in where they've come loose.
Whatever makes lying here a little easier tonight.
And if you're already comfortable.
There's nothing to change.
The eyes can close in their own time.
Or maybe they already have.
And now.
Feeling for the spots where the bed is holding us.
The head.
The shoulders.
The bank.
The backs of the knees.
The cogs.
The heels.
All of that weight.
Already being held.
The bed took the weight the moment we lay down.
And now.
Turning towards the breath for a moment.
We're not changing anything at first.
We're just finding where the breath shows up most tonight.
So where do you feel the breath most?
Maybe it's in the chest.
Maybe it's low in the belly.
Maybe it's in the nostrils.
And if the breath feels a bit quick.
Or a bit high up in the chest.
That's just the body still running the day.
And that's okay.
There's nothing wrong there so let's give the breath a simple shape for a few rounds.
Let's breathe in for four and out for six.
Are the reason we're breathing out longer than we're breathing in.
Is because that long,
Slow breath out is the part that the vagus nerve listens for.
And if counting feels like one more job tonight.
You're welcome to skip the numbers.
And simply let each breath out take its time.
You're welcome to follow my count for a few rounds if that feels relaxing.
Breathing in 2 3 4 Breathing out 2 3 4 5 6 Breathing in 2 3 4 Breathing out 2 3 4 5 6 Breathing in 2 3 4 Breathing out two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six.
And now letting the numbers go.
That's the last thing you need to do.
No more counting tonight.
The breath can find its own pace from here.
Now each of those long out-breaths has already started something.
The vagus nerve is carrying that message past the heart.
Slowing the heart a little.
And then moving on down to the belly.
Telling the body the day is done.
Now the body might not believe the message straight away and that's okay.
The body can hear the message.
Long before the body believes it.
And now.
A quick check-in with the body.
Not to fix anything.
Just so we're noticing what's still running.
And noticing where it's still running.
And if it's hard to tell.
That's okay too.
Simply knowing that something's still on.
Is enough for now.
But of course the body's still on.
The body's been on since this morning.
Of course the body hasn't caught up yet.
And now?
If it feels right.
Getting a sense of where we are.
Without opening the eyes.
Just a feeling for the room around us.
Noticing the room is still.
Getting a sense of the walls around us.
The ceiling up above.
The bed underneath.
And there's nothing in this room that needs us.
You're safe here.
And if right now,
You're not somewhere safe.
Or if the word safe doesn't feel true tonight.
You can let this be something quieter instead.
You're allowed to rest.
Just for now.
Just for these few hours.
Nothing more is being asked of you.
And now.
We're going to visit the places that are still holding on.
The places that usually get the message last.
One at a time.
With no rush.
Starting with the jaw.
The jaw is often the last place to let go.
The jaw's been holding words in.
And holding on all day.
If the teeth are pressed together.
Letting the teeth come apart.
Just a little.
The jaw.
Hanging a little looser.
The way a jaw does just before sleep.
The tongue dropping away from the roof of the mouth.
And the jaw can hear it too.
The day is done.
And now moving our awareness to the neck.
The neck has been holding the head up since this morning.
Turning.
Nodding.
Keeping us upright through all of it.
So handing the head over to the pillow now.
All of it.
The back of the neck.
Softening.
The sides of the neck.
Lengthening.
Just a little.
Maybe there's warmth gathering there.
As the muscles let go.
Moving to the shoulders now and checking to see whether the shoulders have crept up as if they are waiting for the next thing.
And if they are.
Allowing the shoulders to slide down.
Away from the ears.
Sliding down just a little.
And then a little more.
There isn't a next thing tonight.
The shoulders can just rest heavy.
On the bed.
Moving to the chest now and if the chest feels tight.
There's no need to argue with it.
Tightness can stay.
With a bit more space around it.
The ribs widening a little as we breathe in.
And sinking back.
As we breathe out.
This is where the vagus nerve passes by the heart.
And with every slow breath out.
That nerve is asking the heart to take its time.
That part isn't our job.
The heart is already listening.
Moving to the belly now The belly is where a lot of us keep the day braced.
Held in.
Ready.
And maybe we've held the belly like that for so long.
It just feels normal.
So if it feels okay.
Letting the belly off the hook for now.
Allowing the belly to rise as the breath comes in.
And drop as the breath goes out.
And if a fully soft belly feels like a step too far tonight,
A bit less held is plenty.
All the belly can stay just how it wants to be.
The message is still getting through.
And now the hands.
The hands have been busy all day.
Typing.
Carrying.
Holding things together.
So noticing the hands now.
And allowing the fingers to uncurl if they are cold.
Allowing the palms to be open.
Or loose.
Or simply resting.
The hands heavy.
And warm.
Nothing to carry.
Nothing to hold.
And moving to the legs now.
If the legs still feel like they want to get up.
Or the feet want to move?
That's the body,
Still thinking it has somewhere to be.
So noticing the thighs.
Heavy on the bed.
The maze.
Softening.
The calves.
Loosening.
And the feet.
However they are.
Warmer,
Cooler,
Hardly there at all.
There's nowhere left to go tonight.
The legs can stay exactly where they are.
And now.
Feeling all of those places at once.
The jaw.
The neck.
The shoulders the chest.
The belly.
The hands.
The legs.
All the places that were still on when we lay down.
Maybe some of them have let go.
Maybe a couple.
Are still hanging on.
And that's okay.
The body stands down in its own order.
And the last few places usually take the longest.
And here's something worth knowing tonight.
A body that won't stand down.
Isn't a broken body.
That body has been doing its job.
Keeping us ready.
Keeping us going.
Getting us through a day that needed a lot from us.
And for some of us.
Body learned a long time ago that staying ready was the safe thing to do.
So of course the body holds on.
That holding on has been looking after us.
The only way the body knew how.
Such a night.
We can thank the body.
And let the body know.
The job is done for today.
You've done enough today.
Rest isn't something you have to earn.
And if a thought from today comes knocking.
That's okay.
The thought can go past without us.
None of it needs working out tonight.
The thinking can wait for daylight.
When you'll be better rested to meet it.
And now.
If it feels good.
Invite you to imagine a house at the end of the night.
It might be your house.
It might be somewhere you've never been.
Just a house where everyone else has already gone to bed.
And we're the last one up.
Going round.
Turning the lights off.
Starting in the kitchen.
The kettle's cold.
The last cups in the sink.
Switching the kitchen light off.
Moving to the front room.
Cushions or wherever they landed today.
And they can stay there.
The TV is off.
So we're switching the lamp off.
And the front room going dark and still.
Than the whole way.
The shoes are by the mat.
The coats are on their hooks.
The whole light switched off.
One room at a time.
The house going dark.
The familiar dark of a house at night.
With everyone safe inside.
And maybe the body is doing the same.
One place at a time.
The jaw.
The shoulders the chest.
The belly.
The hands.
And the legs.
Each one switching off.
As the house goes dark.
Not now.
There's only one light left on.
The small lamp by the bed.
And we're getting into that bit now.
Under the covers.
The house around us dark.
Warm.
And still.
Nothing left on anywhere else.
Nothing left to check.
And reaching over.
And switching that last lamp off.
The whole house resting now.
One.
And dark.
And holding everyone inside it.
And the whole body resting inside that.
Held on every side.
Held by the bed.
Held by the covers.
Held by the walls.
Held by the night.
And from here.
There's nothing left to switch off.
The words thinning out now.
Body.
A little heavier now.
A little warmer.
The breath slower.
Without being asked.
The message has been sent.
The body is catching up one place at a time.
And if one place is still holding on.
That's okay.
The last lights always take a little longer.
Nothing to manage.
Nothing to check.
Just the bed.
The dark.
And one easy breath after another.
And now.
Some simple phrases will play under everything.
Very quietly.
Nothing for you to say back.
And nothing for you to hold on to.
These words will just keep you company.
While you sleep.
The day is over and my body can know it now.
My body has done enough today.
It's safe for my body to stand down.
My jaw can rest,
My chest can soften and my legs can stay still.
There's nowhere I need to be tonight.
Every slow breath out tells my body the day is done.
My body doesn't have to stay ready tonight.
I'm safe in this bed and nothing needs me right now.
My body is allowed to stand down now.
Rest isn't something I have to earn.
My body can take its time to catch up.
Everything I didn't finish can wait until morning.
I'm held on every side tonight.
My body is resting.
Even now.
My body knows how to come down.
If I wake in the small hours,
The dark can carry me back to sleep.
Sleep can arrive whenever it's ready.
The day is over and my body can know it now.
My body has done enough today.
It's safe for my body to stand down.
My jaw can rest,
My chest can soften and my legs can stay still.
There's nowhere I need to be tonight.
Every slow breath out tells my body the day is done.
My body doesn't have to stay ready tonight.
I'm safe in this bed and nothing needs me right now.
My body is allowed to stand down now.
Rest isn't something I have to earn.
My body can take its time to catch up.
Everything I didn't finish can wait until morning.
I'm held on every side tonight.
My body is resting,
Even now.
My body knows how to come down.
If I wake in the small hours,
The dark can carry me back to sleep.
Sleep can arrive whenever it's ready.
Coming back to the breath now.
The breath rolling in.
And the breath rolling out.
Breath is setting the pace now.
Each breath a little slower.
Each breath asking nothing.
Each breath easier than the last.
A jaw loose.
The shoulders heavy.
For belly easy.
The chest is softening.
The heart taking its time.
The whole body catching up.
The hands resting.
The legs,
The still.
Nowhere for us to go now.
The house around us dark and warm.
Every light switched off.
Everyone's safe inside.
Nothing to check.
Nothing to finish.
Nothing left on.
The sounds in the room.
Steady and low.
The sound's doing the work for us now.
Thoughts getting shewer.
Thoughts further apart.
Thoughts drifting off on their own.
The work of the day is finished.
There's no one waiting on us.
Not one more thing we need to do.
Only the bed.
The breath.
And a warm,
Dark room.
The mattress carrying everything.
Every ounce of us.
Holding us on every side.
Safe in this house.
Held by this bed.
The night looking after us now.
The sound staying close.
Folding all around us.
Keeping us company until morning.
Heavier.
Warmer.
Further into rest.
Standing down.
Switching off Drifting.
The body hearing the message.
The day is done.
And believing it.
At last.
Warm and still.
Heavy in the pillow.
Nothing left to hold up.
The whole house asleep.
The whole body resting.
And sleep arriving.
In its own time.
