For a deeply relaxing sleep story tonight,
Experience a getaway in a tranquil haven nestled in Lake Champlain.
You are listening to The Island of Chimes,
A cozy bedtime story set on an island where countless wind chimes,
Imbued with heartfelt intentions over decades,
Create a special atmosphere for reflection.
Discover the romantic history of the island first-hand as a short water taxi brings you to this refuge,
Where a warm breeze stirs the leaves and the delicate melodies of the wind chimes.
In the artist's studio,
You craft a wind chime of your own,
A tangible expression of your deepest wishes.
A leisurely walk along sun-dappled woodland paths leads you to a special place to hang your chime and ground yourself.
As day softens,
You return to your cabin,
Overlooking the lake as the glow of campfires and the music of the island accompanies you to peaceful slumber.
Let the magic of The Island of Chimes guide you to a deep and restful sleep.
It's time to dream away.
Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I'm Michelle and you may think of me as a dear friend and trusted guide.
My words and imagery will only lead you to safe,
Comforting places.
There are weeks when I'm not sure what story will come out of me,
But during the end of a yoga class last Saturday,
Chimes began to play,
And all of a sudden I imagined an island of chimes where people could go to find peace and dream.
As you listen,
I hope you celebrate making it through another day by prioritizing your peace right now.
This relaxing journey will help set the tone for your night as it unfolds.
Exercise your creative control to adjust any detail of this story to suit your needs.
Our time together reminds you that you're in charge of your thoughts.
You choose what imagery to invite in or let go of.
Surrender to sleep whenever you like.
As you settle into the sanctuary of your room and mind,
Let's enjoy a few deep breaths together.
Release all your cares with a big audible sigh.
Imagine the air in your room transforms.
A tepid breeze infused with the aroma of woodlands and a lake meets your nose as you inhale deeply.
Expand and claim all the space you can.
You may choose to yawn,
Then let everything go in a sigh.
Continue this gentle pattern of breathing,
Drawing in all the bliss you seek and deserve.
Exhaling all the things that no longer serve this moment.
Envision your room melting away into a charming cabin on a secluded island.
A refuge where the soft music of dreams and wishes fills the air.
Countdown with me as we purge all tension and welcome the magic of the night.
Feel the gentle warmth of the sun and hear the lapping waves of the lake on the shore as your muscles soften.
Four.
A wave of quiet hope rises with each breath as you sense the delicate melodies of wind chimes in the distance.
Three.
Calmness spreads through you,
From your head to your toes,
In undulating,
Warm,
Hopeful waves.
Two.
Your body aligns with the peaceful energy of this island sanctuary and you connect with every sensation of softness this moment holds.
One.
As you inhale deeply,
Perhaps yawn,
And release a contented sigh,
Celebrate the you now seeking solace in dreams,
Welcoming the quiet power of setting the intentions for a healing night.
Two.
Ease your breath back into a soft,
Sleepy rhythm.
It's time for the story to begin.
Anyone who ventures to the Island of Chimes is first met with a weathered,
Hand-carved sign,
With wood fibers that have become feathery over time,
Gently stirred by the lakefront breeze.
The sign reads,
Listen to the wind chimes.
They are the voices of the island singing secrets to the soul.
These chimes also sing the secrets of souls who have come to this island since the 1950s,
A summer refuge on one of many islands in Lake Champlain.
The island in modern days is a testament to a dreamer who for a brief while lost the ability to dream,
But remembered once more beneath the canopy of pines along the lapping waters of the lake.
The story of this unique getaway began with Clarence Annable,
A writer whose name had become synonymous with literary acclaim in the mid-20th century.
The very success he had once craved began to stifle the quiet joy he once found in the simple act of creation.
The constant demands of fame,
The relentless scrutiny,
And the expectations of his readership had created a divide between the celebrated author and the once hungry,
Passionate man who had first fallen in love with words.
In the mysterious place between a breakdown and a breakthrough,
Clarence gently readjusted the sails of his life.
Seeking the currents that would carry him forward and to the person he wished to become amidst this period of uncertainty.
Unsure of what to keep or discard,
He found a small,
Unassuming island on Lake Champlain.
It offered an antidote for his life in bustling Manhattan.
Quietude,
Solitude,
And a remote place where no one could interfere with the conversations this man needed to have with himself.
Clarence became the island's first permanent resident.
Building a modest cabin nestled among the trees overlooking the lake.
The structure was intentionally rustic and bare,
Harking back to the mountain shanty where he was raised.
Without electricity or running water,
He remembered how adaptable humans are and how his mother had once made their struggles playful and romantic.
Her influence had allowed him to become the imaginative dreamer that brought him such success.
Clarence would spend his first summer alone on the island,
And only after a year did he allow a guest,
A beloved childhood friend named Ruby,
A free spirit who often inspired the strong heroines of his most well-received novels.
His letter arrived unexpectedly,
Finding her during a brief pit stop in London during a year of whirlwind travel.
She brought him a wind chime,
Crafted from slender bamboo,
Gathered during travels in Southeast Asia,
And smooth river stones collected from shores where she often skipped them,
Each toss carrying the silent wish that they would one day reconnect.
Clarence hung the chime near his writing desk window,
And as the gentle lake breezes stirred its well-traveled components,
A familiar melody filled the small space.
It was a tune that resonated deep within him,
A haunting echo of the chimes that had once graced his mother's garden.
The song of the chimes unlocked forgotten memories that flooded back,
The warmth of his mother's smile,
The scent of her garden,
The carefree days of his youth when he was encouraged to read,
Explore,
And daydream.
He remembered his mother's words about wind chimes,
Spoken with a longing in her eyes,
And a warm smile.
She had said that each chime offered a chance for wishes to take flight,
The breeze acting as a constant reminder that these hopes and intentions were set in motion,
Carried and nurtured by the world around them.
As Clarence sat at his desk,
Words came to him,
And he went on to write the most confessional,
Life-changing works of his life,
As Ruby helped shift his sails once more.
As he wrote by hand,
He'd observe her in the garden,
The sun kissing her auburn hair,
And creating an angelic aura.
He saw the magic in the world once more.
Throughout the remainder of the 50s and 60s,
The small rustic cabin was joined by charming cottages and other dwellings nestled among fragrant gardens that Ruby lovingly tended.
The island,
Once a solitary retreat,
Began to welcome guests,
Often friends and fellow artists,
Drawn by Clarence's quiet magnetism and Ruby's warm and peppy hospitality.
Gatherings and low-key parties became a feature of the island's summers,
Filled with laughter,
Shared meals under strings of soft lights,
And the ever-present music of the wind chimes.
Guests touched by the island's unique spirit began to bring their own chimes,
Often handcrafted with materials found on their travels or designed to reflect their personal intentions.
A beloved tradition emerged.
Upon arrival,
Guests would craft or bring their chimes and then wander the island's paths to find a special place to hang them.
Often,
They would sit quietly on the earth beneath their chosen spot,
Listening to the gentle music.
A moment of quiet contemplation as they cast their dreams and intentions into the island's magical song.
Clarence with his innate trust in the goodness of the human spirit and Ruby's nurturing heart ensured that the island's unique purpose would endure.
Even after they were gone,
Their legacy lived on through the countless chimes that sang in the breeze,
Welcoming visitors seeking their own refuge,
A place to reconnect with themselves amidst the island's gentle,
Whispering winds.
Clarence created a trust to forever ensure the protection of the island of chimes.
The gentle hum of the water taxi's engine brings you closer to the island of chimes on this balmy afternoon.
Nearly 70 years after Clarence first sought refuge on its shores,
A cool,
Fine mist rises from the surface of Lake Champlain,
Kissing your bare arms and face.
With a refreshing coolness that contrasts with the intense golden sunlight that warms your skin.
The air smells clean and fresh,
Carrying a hint of lake water and distant pine and cedar.
The small vessel cuts smoothly through the calm water,
And the captain cuts the motor as you drift slowly.
A gentle wake shimmers in the sunlight,
And small rainbows form in the mist.
You watch the shoreline of the mainland recede,
Replaced by the increasingly verdant embrace of the island ahead.
As you draw nearer,
The first delicate,
Tinkling sounds of chimes can be heard.
The same air that caresses your skin is the invisible conductor of the island's symphony of chimes.
The water taxi docks,
And you let out a sigh of relief.
This is just the place that you needed.
You disembark with a few other guests,
Who are just as in awe of the island as you are.
A stone path,
Moss-kissed and uneven with age,
Winds its way upwards,
And the chimes greet you.
It's not a sudden cacophony,
But a delicate chorus.
Slender bamboo clinks against smooth river stones with melodies that are light and airy.
Pieces of sea glass chime with a soft,
Frosted resonance.
Long brass tubes create a deep chime of longing.
Each chime is distinct,
A unique voice in the island's ongoing conversation.
The path leads you past several charming cabins and cottages,
Each nestled discreetly amongst the looming pines and the broad-leafed maples.
The original one-room cabin now serves as the island's artist's studio,
A space where visitors come not only to craft their own wind chimes,
But also to perhaps unearth or nurture their own dormant creative spirits.
The air within its log walls often carries the scent of wood shavings,
A soft clinking of tools,
And the quiet murmur of focused concentration.
The sunlight streams through the large windows,
Illuminating works in progress.
Pieces of driftwood,
Carefully chosen shells,
And long bands of metal catching the light.
A sign above the door reads simply,
The studio.
Inside,
The air is filled with quiet creativity.
Sunlight streams through the large window,
Illuminating work tables scattered with driftwood,
Shells,
Beads,
And tools.
This is where you,
And countless others before you,
Can craft your own wind chime,
A tangible piece representing that you were here.
You decide to settle in first,
And continue to walk down a pebbled path to your cabin,
Where a charming guesthouse overlooks a vibrant rose garden.
The heady perfume of the blooms marrying the woodsy air as you approach and enter.
The four-room cabin is an example of simple elegance,
Modernized,
Yet still maintaining the aesthetics of summer bungalow retreats.
The whitewashed walls are adorned with old framed photographs that capture the island's sunsets and sunrises throughout time.
Just above the stone fireplace and hand-carved pine mantle is a beautiful silhouette photo of Clarence and Ruby,
Younger,
Their faces full of hope,
Holding a newly crafted chime before the vast expanse of Lake Champlain.
The room is adorned with antique lamps and colorful works of art,
Vibrant and lively,
Depicting quiet and chanting woodlands and summer gardens.
A red gingham tablecloth covers a round dining table that features a note welcoming you to the island,
As well as a prepared early dinner of the kinds of food you like to enjoy on vacation.
You savor this comfort food,
Unaware of how hungry you became on your journey here.
Birdsong joins the melodic chimes as you step outside on the deck,
Bringing with you a near-finished wood chime.
As you make your way to the studio,
You glimpse other guests,
Cherishing the island's solitude.
Figures tucked away on their porches,
Reading by sun-speckled windows,
Are disappearing down wooded paths.
You make your way to the studio,
Putting the final touches on the chime you started to create before arriving.
Each element holds sentimental meaning,
Representing simple moments and symbolizing unshared dreams.
The air in the studio is warm and dry.
Particles of sawdust dance on the weathered wooden planks of the floor,
Sparkling in the rich honeyed light that streams through the mullioned windows.
Clarence's desk sits in its original place,
And you can sense the spirit of the writer in the room,
Swept up in the same sense of peace and inspiration that he once found here.
As you secure the last piece,
You feel a part of yourself taking root in this tranquil space.
Shelves line the walls,
With mason jars brimming with art supplies that are restocked by caretakers.
Many other unique items have been left behind by visitors in communal milk crates.
Even those who arrive,
Feeling not an ounce of artistic talent,
May feel a childlike curiosity to try something new.
You settle on a bench and place your chime on the table.
A jar containing metal tags,
Artistically engraved with dozens of words of intention,
Sits before you.
Some include the words peace,
Clarity,
Forgiveness,
Hope,
New beginnings,
And abundance.
The tags slip between your fingers,
And the metal is cool in your hands as you pour over them and select a few that resonate the most.
You thread these words at the end of the chimes,
Watching them glisten in the abundant light of the studio.
With your finished chime in hand,
You venture into the woods.
Purposefully,
But without anything to guide you but your intuition.
The island is half a mile wide by a mile long,
And is easy to navigate by foot on a day like today.
The path narrows,
Winding beneath a canopy of rustling maple leaves and long,
Feathery evergreen branches.
The air scented with the crispness of recently fallen pine needles underfoot,
And the lingering dampness of a pre-dawn shower purifies your lungs with each deep breath.
Sparkling gold light filters through the branches,
Catching the myriad of wind chimes that adorn the island like plump colorful fruit and metal antiques that bear the patina of years spent in the Lake Champlain weather.
A cluster of sea glass chimes shimmers,
Their pale greens,
Cobalt blues,
And aquamarine,
Softened by years of sun and wind,
Brought by a sea-loving visitor from Newport,
Rhode Island.
Nearby,
A set of vibrant ceramic chimes,
Painted with crimson roses and sunny yellow tulips,
Is slightly faded by decades of exposure,
And dated 1978.
It tinkles merrily,
And was brought by a young couple celebrating their honeymoon and the bright future they envisioned.
Deeper in the woods,
A more somber chime of dark,
Polished wood hangs silently,
Its surface weathered by countless seasons,
With a small 2003 etched into its base.
Along the lakeshore,
A whimsical chime made of found metal objects,
Spoons,
Keys,
And washers,
Clangs gently,
Its once bright surfaces now bearing a touch of rust,
A playful creation from someone who came to the island seeking a spark of joy after making major life changes in 2015.
Higher in the branches of an old maple tree is a delicate arrangement of hand-painted porcelain bells,
Their once sharp colors now muted by time,
And dated 1992.
It came as a gift to the island from a group of friends celebrating a milestone birthday in the decades they shared together.
Then you notice a simple chime of stones strung together with twine,
Some strands showing signs of wear,
Marked just 2022.
Quiet intention for healing and peace,
Left by a solo traveler,
Taking her first trip after a couple years of hiatus.
Each chime,
With its unique materials,
Colors,
And sometimes a date or a collection of words,
Tells a story of love,
Loss,
Hope,
And transformation.
It's like reading a book about many souls who found peace on this island throughout many decades.
As the end of each warm weather season approaches,
The island's caretakers make their rounds,
Carefully inspecting the chimes.
Those in need of repair are gently restored,
And the more delicate or historically significant pieces are brought indoors,
Sheltered from the harsh winter,
Ensuring their stories and songs will continue to grace the island for years to come.
Then you discover a clearing,
Edged with white pine and cedar trees,
And intuitively feel this is the spot.
The lake can be seen at the edge,
Its glittering waves lapping against the rocky shore.
You carefully hang your chime,
The familiar objects now creating a new,
Unique melody.
It's the first time you've heard the music of your own creation.
As the sun begins its slow descent,
Painting the sky in hues of fiery red and rose,
You settle onto the soft earth at the edge of the clearing.
Forget-me-nots dot the grass around you,
Their vibrant purple-blue,
A stark contrast to the lush greens of the woodlands.
The grass is still warm,
Retaining the heat from this ideal sunny day.
As you weave your fingers together and create a basket with them to rest your head,
You lie back,
Watching the cotton candy clouds drift through the sky.
The wind picks up slightly,
And the island's chimes sing with renewed vigor.
A collective sigh carried on the evening breeze that encourages you to sigh along.
The chimes glint,
Reflecting the magenta light of the setting sun.
Solar lanterns cast a warm glow along the woodland paths.
This time,
You choose the narrowest trail,
Hugging the lake's edge.
The rippling water mirrors the deepening twilight sky,
Already hinting at the first hesitant stars.
The chimes now carry a nocturnal resonance,
Joined by the sounds of crickets and tree frogs.
The chimes ring out into the night air,
Their music weaving through the long shadows and the soft lapping of lake water.
Through the trees,
The inviting warmth of campfires flickers like gold topaz,
And hushed conversations drift on the cool evening air.
You pause by a crackling fire and say good evening to fellow visitors.
Standing in the dancing shadows and orange marmalade light of the flames,
The scent of wood smoke adds another layer of comfort under the emerging starlight.
A heavy wave of tiredness takes hold,
And you return to your cabin,
Grateful for the modern amenities that Clarence did without when he first arrived.
The warm water in the shower washes away the day's journey,
As you lather with a deep green pine soap that leaves the breath of the woodlands on your skin.
Refreshed,
Yet so very sleepy,
You towel off and slip into soft flannel pajamas.
The temperature begins to drop with the cool lakeside air,
And you fall asleep.
Perfect for a deep and restful sleep.
The windows remain open just a crack,
Allowing the air to circulate through the bedroom.
A four-poster bed in the heart of the room,
Made from salvaged trees on the island damaged in a storm,
Has beautiful grooves and patterns that are mesmerizing in the moonlight that pours through the windows.
You pull back a plush ivory duvet,
Embroidered with forget-me-nots along the edges.
The linen is cool and velvety against your skin.
Its weight upon your tired body,
Yet another gentle nudge towards sleep.
As you settle beneath its warmth,
The distant music of the island's chimes helps guide you across the bridge between your waking and sleeping life.
The island's soundtrack is a lullaby of intentions and dreams that impart a sense of everlasting hope and a reminder of how connected we are to one another and to the beautiful world around us.
The gentle notes of the chimes carry you into the quiet reprieve of slumber.
Finding peace.
Finding music.
Finding comfort.
Finding hope.
Finding sleep.
It's a dream.
