Good evening and welcome to this perfect moment to relax,
Unwind,
And fall asleep.
I am Melissa and I'll be taking you inside the world of an old poem where one single person appears on a snowy river.
Getting comfortable in your bed,
Feeling your body soft and heavy,
Allowing your eyes to close if you haven't,
Trusting that deep,
Restful sleep is coming your way.
Let your imagination take you into the story.
Or you can also relax any trying or doing and simply listen to my words.
You are seeing the bird's eye view from the sky,
A clear,
Light blue sky.
Lined with shimmering blankets of white clouds and snow flurries,
Ready to fall upon the land.
Far in the horizon is the winter sun,
Dazzling in white gold.
Spots of rainbow colors around it,
Bright but soft and gentle as it radiates across the vast sky.
Looking down,
You see earth covered in white.
Oh,
But not quite.
As you lay your gaze and enjoy looking out at this world,
You notice layers and layers of mountain range.
Although it's a snowy winter,
The longer you take in this view,
The more colors and shades of the earth you see.
The shadows of hills and valleys cast by the low winter sun are showing shades of deep purple,
Violet,
Blue,
And fir green.
You relax into these comforting shades of colors.
You notice the air sparkles and reflects colors around you.
It is a cold winter day indeed,
So cool and dry that all the fallen snow shines like diamonds,
Changing light as you change your perspective.
You notice that you are perfectly comfortable at the right temperature for cozy restful sleep,
Unaffected by this winter scenery.
Ah,
You're seeing the perspective of the poet,
Experiencing this cold,
Bright winter day.
The snow is like a soft blanket,
Making every hill,
Every stone,
Every point and every edge so much softer.
The world is so calm and quiet.
You realize that there is no sound of life,
No sound of birds or critters,
Let alone people.
This must be a place that is very far away from the rest of the world.
Perching on a pine tree like a bird,
You check for movements and sounds.
Any signs of flying companions or laughter and chatter from human companions.
You listen more intently,
Slowing your breath,
Becoming perceptive to the smallest sounds.
Instead,
You just hear the quiet of snow absorbing everything.
Everything is still.
You're hearing your own breath.
And with the comfort of your own breath,
You look down to scan the valleys for any houses,
Farms,
Or any signs of human activity.
The world answers with ongoing pine trees,
Snow,
Rocky boulders,
And little areas of clearings.
The snowy ground is so smooth,
So perfectly smooth.
No footprints,
No tracks,
No trails,
Not even pine cones fallen on the ground.
No birds roam this place.
Not a soul in sight.
But something else catches your attention.
Lower down the valley,
The forests come to a stop.
Instead,
It expands to a flat white surface,
Encompassing a big part of the land.
You come closer to this part of the landscape.
This flat surface is still covered in snow,
But the edges curves left and curves right.
And it's showing overgrown dry grass shooting out of the snow.
It's the river,
The big wide river covered in ice and snow.
You're no longer in the mountains and trees,
But on the snowy river.
Perhaps there is more activity near the water,
Even if it is cold.
You look up and indeed,
There is a small wooden boat not far in the distance.
Is it abandoned or is it occupied?
First,
You are a little relieved.
There is someone out here.
And then you're a little curious.
As you get closer,
You start to wonder.
What will you discover?
And then you see a silhouette of a person.
You see the silhouette move with the river breeze.
It is the straw cape on a person that is moving slightly.
It is the straw cape on a person that is moving slightly,
Shielding the person from snow and cold.
You see a wide brim straw hat that the person is wearing.
With a layer of snow on a straw cape and hat,
This old man is quietly,
Calmly,
And persistently sitting in a little wooden boat on the river on a snowy winter day.
In his hands is a fishing rod.
A fishing rod that seems to dip into the snow.
He saw the world as you did.
Knowing that it is quiet and still.
Far away and remote.
A place where no birds roam and not a soul is in sight.
Ah,
This is the scenery the poet has seen and found it worthy to put into words of a poem that will last thousands of years.
An old man with a beating heart and a quiet determination.
The only living being on the snowy river.
Fishing.
For who knows whom?
Himself,
His family,
His village,
Or just for the act of being out here.
The gentle flurries fall down and he doesn't bother to shake it off.
The sun slowly moves closer to the horizon.
And the lantern on the boat becomes brighter with its yellow light and warm glow.
Seeing the warmth and feeling the aliveness,
You realize there's nothing to hold on to anymore.
There is no mystery that holds you back from relaxing.
There is no question that needs to be answered.
There is no guilt or sorrow.
No feelings that are not already accepted.
You simply breathe slowly,
Comfortably in the same picture,
Same rhythm.
The old man's fishing rod.
His lantern.
His boat.
The river covered in white.
The hazy sky that is turning light pink and violet.
The far off forests and mountains.
They all make this old man's presence more heartfelt to you.
You share this presence more and more relaxed.
Slower and slower you breathe.
More and more trusting of the rest and calm that is around you.
Along with the natural rhythm of day and night,
Sleep comes to you.
I hope you stay relaxed as the music continues for 10 more minutes.
You're welcome to play the story again.
It's been a pleasure to guide you.
May you rest well.
