Good evening and welcome to a meditation for returning to rest.
If you've woken during the night.
You don't need to do anything right now.
You don't need to figure out why you're awake.
You don't need to check the time.
You don't need to think about tomorrow.
And you certainly don't need to make yourself fall asleep.
For now.
There is nothing to solve.
Nothing to accomplish.
Nothing being asked of you.
You can simply rest.
Take the gentlest breath in.
And let it go.
Allow your body to become heavy.
Let your head settle into your pillow.
Let your shoulders soften.
Let your hands become still.
Let your legs become heavy beneath the blankets.
You don't have to hold yourself up.
The bat is holding you.
The pillow is holding you.
The blankets are holding you.
And for these next few moments.
You can let yourself be helped.
If your mind is awake,
That's okay.
You don't have to make it quiet.
Thoughts may come.
Tomorrow may appear in your mind.
Conversation.
A worry.
Something that happened today.
Let the thoughts come.
And let them go.
Like clouds moving across a dark night sky.
You don't need to follow them.
You don't need to answer them.
You can simply notice.
And return to your breath.
Breathe in.
And out.
.
.
Nothing to solve.
Nothing to decide.
Nothing to remember.
Tomorrow can wait for tomorrow.
Whatever needs your attention will still be there in the morning.
You don't need to take care of it tonight.
Right now.
Your only job is to rest.
And even if sleep doesn't come immediately.
Rest is still worthwhile.
You are still giving your body something it needs.
You are still giving your mind permission to soften.
You are still allowed to lie here.
Doing absolutely nothing.
There is no failure in being awake.
You haven't ruined your night.
You don't need to calculate how many hours are left.
You don't need to wonder how you will function tomorrow.
You don't need to force anything.
Just breathe.
Imagine the night surrounding you.
Quiet.
Safe.
Still.
The world has become softer.
The demands of the day have temporarily disappeared.
You don't have to participate in anything right now.
You can simply disappear.
Into the quiet.
Feel the darkness behind your closed eyes.
Feel the softness beneath your head.
Feel the warmth around your body.
And with every exhale.
Let yourself sink a little deeper.
Not trying to sleep.
Just thinking.
A little heavier.
A little softer.
A little more still.
Bring your awareness to your forehead.
And allow it to smooth.
Your eyes soft behind your eyelids.
Your jaw loose.
Your tongue resting.
Your throat soft.
Let your shoulders drop away from your ears.
Let your arms become heavy.
Your hands don't need to do anything.
Feel your chest rising gently.
And follow him.
Your belly softening.
Your hips becoming heavy.
With the eyes.
Your knees.
Your calves.
Your feet.
All becoming wonderfully heavy.
You are not holding yourself anymore.
You are being helped.
And perhaps you can imagine yourself floating.
Not somewhere you need to go.
Just floating.
On warm,
Calm water.
The surface beneath you completely supporting your body.
There is nothing to hold on to,
Nothing to control.
You can simply drift.
The water rises gently and falls gently with your breath.
In.
.
.
.
And out.
Drifting.
Rest in.
Soften in.
And if a thought appears,
Let it float past you.
Don't climb into it.
You don't need to follow it.
Just let it drift away.
Come back to the feeling of being supported.
Come back to your breath.
Come back to this quiet moment.
Where nothing is required of you.
You can silently repeat.
I am safe to rest.
I don't have to solve anything tonight.
Tomorrow can wait.
My body knows how to rest.
And now you don't even need the words.
Let them fade.
Just breathe.
There is nowhere to go.
Nothing to do.
Nothing to figure out.
Just this breath.
And this one.
.
.
Sometimes sleep arrives when we stop watching for it.
When we stop measuring the night.
Then we stop trying so hard.
So you can let go of the goal to sleep.
You don't have to make it happen.
Let sleep come.
If it comes,
And if it takes a little while.
You can still rest.
There is no clock here,
No schedule.
No expectation.
Only in this quiet.
Imagine the night whispering,
You don't have to do anything.
You can rest now.
You are allowed to let go.
And perhaps somewhere deep inside.
Your body already knows.
Knows how to breathe without being told.
It knows how to soften.
It knows how to rest.
It knows how to sleep.
So let yourself become heavier.
Let the band hold you.
Let the darkness hold you.
Let the night.
Hold you.
And if you drift,
You can drift.
If you wake again.
You can simply return here.
No frustration.
No judgment.
Just another breath.
And another opportunity to soften.
Your body is simply being your body,
And you can meet it with kindness.
One final gentle breath in… and slowly out.
And now,
You can let this meditation fade into the background.
You don't need to listen anymore.
You don't need to remember these words.
You don't need to do anything at all.
Just rest.
Don't let yourself trip.
Softly.
Quietly.
Naturally,
Back into sleep.
Your help.
You are safe to rest.
And tomorrow can wait.
You
