Hello and welcome.
Before we begin,
Turn off any notifications or switch your phone to silent so that no one and nothing can interrupt you.
And now that there is nothing left to do,
Nothing at all,
Except get comfortable.
In a way that you know how to get comfortable.
So go ahead and snuggle in.
Finding the pillow that holds your head just right and the blankets that just feel so.
.
.
Adjusting one last time more two or three and every little adjustment you make takes you a little deeper into comfort.
Because this is the place where the day is allowed to end.
And you can let your eyes close now,
Whenever you're ready.
Maybe they already have.
Or maybe they're just about to.
And as they close,
Notice the darkness behind your eyelids.
Soft and warm and quiet.
Like the darkness of a room where a candle has just been blown out.
And now you don't have to listen to every word that I say.
Because your mind,
The deeper part of your mind is listening.
All on its own and it knows exactly what to do with every word that it needs.
So that you can just rest.
Relaxing now from the very top of your head.
Your scalp just letting it soften as if a warm gentle hand rests there.
And that softness spreading down across the forehead and smoothing out.
Every little line that's been holding the day.
Around the eye.
The tiny muscles that have worked so hard to keep watching all day.
They can stop watching now.
They can sink back.
Heavy and still.
And the cheeks letting go.
And the jaw.
Letting go,
Releasing your jaw Loosening the muscles that get held.
Letting the teeth par just slightly.
And the tongue resting.
And your whole face becomes smooth and calm.
Like the surface of still water.
And that calm flowing down.
Through the neck,
Where the head has been balanced all day.
And now the pillow can take that weight all of that weight so you don't have to hold your head up anymore.
And down through your shoulders letting them melt away from the ears sinking into the bed.
Heavier with each breath.
And the arms heavy,
All the way down the arms.
All the way down the hands and fingers just lying there as if they were made of warm sand.
And your belly soft and loose,
Rising and falling.
And your shoulders and back.
Just letting go.
Sinking deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper into the mattress as if the bed has been waiting all day to hold you.
And your hips becoming so heavy and relaxed.
Your legs becoming heavy and relaxed.
And your feet and toes relaxing,
Letting go,
Melting deeper into the bed.
Allowing the whole body to simply rest.
And as you rest,
Notice the breath.
You don't need to change it,
Just notice how you breathe in the cool air.
And how you breathe out.
And you don't even have to pay attention because it's so easy to notice when you're this relaxed.
With each breath imagine a little more of the day being carried away on the air.
The conversations,
The little worries,
The things you are meant to do and say.
Drifting off like a slow mist and fading.
Into the darkness.
And somewhere there was once a river at night.
A soft,
Warm summer night.
The kind of night when the air is exactly the temperature of your skin.
So that you can't quite tell where you end and the night begins.
And the river is wide and slow and quiet.
So quiet that if you listened closely,
You could hear the water.
Talking to itself in a low easy murmur.
A sound like a hundred tiny whispers.
Passing along the stones on the bank the grass is long and soft and the silver in the moonlight and it bends a little in the breeze the way grass does when it's listening and the reeds along the edge stand tall and still,
Their feathered tops swaying so slowly you can almost see them move.
There's even a smell in the air of wet stones and cool earth and something sweet like night blooming flowers somewhere further up the bank and with every breath the air smells a little sweeter.
And somewhere in the reeds the frogs are singing low and slow and the crickets are keeping time with them a soft steady rhythm that goes on and on and asks nothing And if you breathe in slowly,
You can even smell the river itself.
The cool clean mineral smell of the water moving over the stones.
And the sweet smell of something else.
Growing along the paint.
And beneath it all the deep dark comforting smell of earth.
The smell of the ground after a soft,
Gentle rain.
And the air against the skin is soft.
And just a little damp like the breath of someone sleeping close.
And there's a thin cool mist that lifts off the water and settles on your cheeks and the backs of your hands and eyelashes so lightly.
And there are other sounds too,
But only the gentlest ones.
The slow,
Papery rustle of the reeds.
The faint,
Far-off call of a nightbird.
Somewhere across the water.
And each of these sounds arrive from a long way off.
And fades before it has finished leaving behind only quiet and on the bank sitting on a smooth flat stone at the water's edge is the traveler This traveller has walked a long way to be here.
And they are tired.
So very tired.
And beside them is a pack that they've been carrying for so very long.
That they've almost forgotten it was there.
And now they let it slide off their shoulders and set it down.
And as the traveler sets it down,
They notice how light their shoulders are.
How their whole body seems to rise a little,
The way a boat rises when it's lifted.
And they let out a long,
Slow breath.
And the river seems to breathe with them.
The traveler takes off their boots,
Slowly one by one.
And then the other and sets them side by side on the grass.
And gently puts their feet into the water and it's cool.
Just cool enough.
And the water moves gently around their ankles.
And over their feet.
Washing away everything their feet have carried all day.
Drifting off downstream in a slow soft cloud and as they sit there.
They notice something at the water's edge.
Arah.
And on the raft someone has laid a thick blanket and pillow.
Soft and sweet smelling,
Like lavender and dried hay.
It looks exactly like it has been waiting and the traveler stands and steps carefully onto the raft.
And they lie down on the blanket and it's just so soft.
And the pillow holds the head just right.
And they pull the edge of the blanket up over their shoulders and snuggle in.
And as they do,
The raft begins to move so slowly,
You only notice that the bank is gliding away and the reeds are drifting past,
One by one.
And the traveler looks up and above them is the sky the whole wide night sky.
And it's full of stars.
More stars than anyone could count.
Spread out like a fine silver sand on black velvet.
Some of them bright and steady and some so faint you only see them when you're looking.
And the river carries the raft along.
And as it does the stars seem to move slowly overhead as the raft glides gently in the warm breeze the river whispers a deep low lullaby and the air moves across their face.
Soft and cool and smelling of water and stars and distance.
And they breathe it in.
And out.
And as the raft drifts on,
The traveller feels their thoughts begin to float,
Just drifting past like the reeds.
And the traveler doesn't mind,
Because everything is exactly as it should be.
Eventually,
The river begins to curve,
And the banks rise a little on either side.
And the sky narrows and the air turns cool.
And the raft drifts past a forest.
The trees here are tall and ancient and great trunks that lean in over the water like the arch ceiling of a cathedral.
With the stars shining through.
And the forest is full of the smell of pine and moss and a deep green sleepy smell that settles into the chest and slows the breathing on its own.
And the air in here is cooler and heavier,
Like the sweet resin smell of cedar and the earthy smell of fallen leaves slowly turning into soil.
The traveler lets one hand trail over the side of the raft.
And the cool water slides between their fingers and the soft ferns brush their fingertips as they pass.
Feather light.
And the sounds in the forest are the softest sounds of all.
The faint rip of dew falling from leaf to leaf.
The slow sigh of wind moving through the high branches like the sound of far off banks with great soft ferns that brush the surface of the water as the raft passes and the moss hangs from the low branches in long silvery curtains swaying gently.
And the traveler watches them slide by one after another slowly so slowly and somewhere far off there is an owl that calls a low round soft sound and as they do small glowing lights begin to drift among the trees Fireflies,
Dozens of them,
Slowly rising and falling,
And some of them drift out over the water and float alongside the raft as it glides along,
Keeping the traveler company.
And perhaps even a few leaves drift down and land on the water and float.
Turning slowly in the current.
And as the traveler notices the forest around them,
Like a great quiet presence that has been here for hundreds of years,
And so the traveler simply drifts away.
And slowly the forest fades away.
And ahead the banks become great walls of smooth red and gold stone.
The canyon is quiet in a different way,
A vast quietness,
And the sound of the river echoes softly.
So that every ripple every drip becomes a little slower a little softer and the whole canyon hums with a low gentle murmur perhaps the air in the canyon and still carries the smell of warm stones and all fine dust.
And a faint,
Peaceful smell.
The water beneath the raft is cooler here.
The stones still hold the warmth of the day.
So as the raft drifts close to these stone walls,
The traveler can feel a faint soft heat on their face,
Like the warmth of a hearth.
And the walls are in layers of earthy colours even in the starlight.
Each one laid down slowly over thousands and thousands of years.
And the traveller looks up at them and wonders how the river could be so simply carved into this place.
Far above the canyon walls a long ribbon of sky.
As if the sky and the water were each other's reflections,
The raft drifts so slowly through the rocky canyon,
And a single drop of water falls from above and lands with a tiny musical sound.
And the sound ripples out and fades and the silence afterwards is even deeper,
Deeper and deeper and gradually the walls begin to widen and the warm stone slips away and the canyon opens like a slow sleepy yawn and the river spreads out into the night.
It's so wide here and so open that the sky seems to touch the ground in every direction and the stars go all the way down to the horizon so that the traveler feels as if they're floating not on a river but through the middle of the night itself.
The desert at night is cool and soft.
And the air is dry and clean and carries the fainter scent of sage and a warm sand and far off rain.
And the air on their skin is dry.
And the air on their skin is dry and cool and so soft.
And every now and then,
A gentle breath of fresh air rises from the sand,
Still holding a little of the day.
And brushes their face and fades away.
And a different smell drifts in the sweet clean smell of desert rain from some far off passing cloud and the faint honey scent of the pale night flowers and the warm dusty smell of the sun baked stone cooling slowly in the dark and the sound in the deserts are so soft.
And so few.
That each one is like a gift.
The faint hiss of fine sand,
Sliding down a dune grain by grain,
The tiny tick of cool stones,
The long slow note of a far-off owl,
And beneath them a silence so deep and so wide that the trees traveler can almost hear the soft,
Slow beats of their own heart.
And as the dunes roll out on either side in long smooth silver curves,
Shaped by the wind into the waves that never move but look as if they might.
And the moonlight slides over them like silk.
Leaving every ripple in the sand.
Traced by a thin line of light.
And here and there there are small night flowers that have opened along the bank pale and delicate and sweet and the river here is wide and slow and almost perfectly still,
So still that the whole sky is reflected in it.
And the raft seems to glide on a mirror of stars.
And the traveler looks down over the edge and sees the Milky Way beneath them and above them and all around them and can't quite tell which way is up.
And which way is down.
And the only sound is the faint hush of the water,
And the soft,
Far-off whisper of the wind.
Moving across the sand a long slow sigh that rises and falls and rises and falls in time with the traveler's own breath.
And the stillness of the desert settles into the traveler,
The way evening settles over a field,
Every part of them growing quiet,
Slow,
Heavy and warm.
And as they drift on in the stillness,
A few small lights appear ahead of them,
Glowing softly in the dark.
It's a small sleepy village.
Most of the lights already dim,
As the people inside drift off one by one into sleep.
The river curves gently past the village and the raft glides along so close.
That the traveler can see the little wooden dot.
And the boats tied up,
Rocking softly in their sleep,
And the lanterns hanging from the posts,
Their flames small and steady and golden,
Reflected in the water in long wavering ribbons of light.
There's a smell of wood smoke curling from the chimneys and under it the faint sweet scent of bread that was baked earlier in the day and now cools on a windowsill somewhere in one of the houses a window is open and from it drifts the soft slow sound of someone humming a lullaby a simple old tune that rises and falls and slowly fades as the humming becomes quieter and quieter and quieter and finally stops because the person who was humming has fallen asleep now.
And the air drifting off the village is warm and full of small comforting smells all mingling together into the smell of home and there are the slow creak of the boats as they rock the soft lapping of water and the whole village is breathing slowly and softly,
The way a sleeping animal breathes,
And as the traveler breathes in,
And out with the village growing smaller and fainter as the river carries the traveler.
On and on and on down the river until somewhere along the way the sound of the river begins to change.
It grows broader and deeper,
A low slow rushing that rises and falls and the air takes on a new smell.
Salt and the cool clean river widens and widens until the banks have fallen away on both sides.
And the raft drifts out onto a gentle glassy bay.
Ahead in the moonlight is a beach,
Along a curving beach of pale soft sand.
The raft slides towards it so slowly,
So gently that the traveler barely feels the moment when it touches the shore,
A soft hushing sound as the raft slips up.
Onto the sand and rest.
And the traveler lies there for a while listening to the waves as they roll in from the dark one after another rising and curling and falling onto the sand with a long soft hush and then drawing back slowly with a gentle whispering sigh of pebbles,
Shells and foam.
In and out.
In and out Rising and falling,
Out and in,
The sand so soft and cool.
The air thick with the smell of salt and sea.
The sounds are all slow and round and long,
Hush of each wave.
Fizzing of the foam as it sinks into the sand.
As the traveler looks up across the sky,
From one horizon to the other stretches a vast glowing band of stars.
So thick with stars,
That it glows like a silver mist.
And the traveler seems to lean in closer and closer until it feels as if the stars are just a few feet away so that when the traveler reaches out The stardust flows through their fingers like sand.
There are so many,
So close together.
And in the glow,
There are colours so faint.
That you only notice them when you stop to see them,
Pale and cool,
Here and there,
A thread of warm,
Glimmer,
All bending into one another the way colours do.
And some of the stars are bright and steady and some flicker so softly and perhaps a single star slides slowly from one side to the other leaving behind a thin silvery trail that glows for a moment and fades as softly as a whisper and the traveler feels a quiet wish rise up inside and they let it go and the wish drifts up into the sky and becomes a star of its own and it occurs to the traveler that each of these stars is a small quiet moment from the day and the day before and all the days before that.
The moments that were gentle,
And the moments that were hard,
And the moments that were nothing at all.
And the night sky holds them all,
Just letting each one shine for as long as it needs,
And then letting it rest.
And in the quiet,
The traveler starts to hear something so faint,
It's more of a feeling than a sound.
A low,
Sweet hum,
Like the hum of a very distant choir,
Or the hum of the world itself,
Turning slowly in its sleep.
And it seems to come from the stars,
Or the sea,
Or the sand,
Because it is the sound of everything being exactly as it should be.
And as the stars flow across the sky,
Slow and wide and endless,
All around is stardust.
Fine and glimmering and slow,
Drifting like snow in a windless night.
And it settles on the traveler's shoulders and in their hair and on their eyelashes and as it settles it dissolves into the skin so that they begin to glow faintly from the inside warm and soft and light there's a silence here a deep velvet peaceful silence That isn't empty but full,
The way you held breath is full,
And the silence is so gentle that the traveller can feel it resting against their skin.
And as they drift weightless through the night sky,
Past clusters of tiny dim sleeping stars huddled together,
The traveller feels so completely at peace,
That every muscle,
Every thought,
Every last trace of the day has dissolved into the soft glowing dark,
And there's nothing left but this feeling of being weightless and held and loved by the whole cosmos.
Wyatt's sleeping universe.
After a time that could be a moment or it could be a very long time you choose the traveler begins to float down down down through the stardust and the soft dark and the quiet past the stars which blink slowly as they pass as if to say goodbye Good night,
Good night.
Down and down through the cool clear night air and below on the beach small golden light flickers a bonfire burning low on the sand and the traveler drifts down and down and settles as gently as a feather onto the soft warm sand.
Perhaps the fire has burned down to a deep glowing bed of embers orange and red and gold and it crackles softly now and then with a tiny soft pop of And a few small sparks rise lazily into the dark and drift up to join the stars and fade.
And the warmth of the fire is just right.
Not too hot,
Not too bright.
Just a deep,
Gentle glow that reaches the traveler's face and chest and hands.
The light flickers and dances across the sand in soft shifting shapes and the smell of the fire is sweet and soft,
Driftwood and salt and a faint warm scent like toasted sugar and the smoke curls up in a slow grey ribbon that carries the smell up into the stars.
The sounds of the fire are the gentlest sounds of all.
The soft crackle of the embers,
The tiny hiss.
A pocket of salt in the driftwood catches and flares.
And fades the low sigh of a log settling deeper into the glow like a sleeper turning over in bed.
And a blanket is on the sand by the fire,
Thick and soft and warm.
And the traveler lies down on it and pulls the edge up over their shoulders and snuggles in.
And the sand beneath the blanket is warm from the heat of the fire.
And the warmth rises through the blanket,
Slow and slow.
Steady with the gentle weight of being tucked in and on one side the warmth of the fire soft and golden and glowing on the skin And on the other side,
The cool of the ocean.
A gentle breeze drifting in off the water,
Cool and soft.
On the back of the neck and the cheek warm on one side.
Cool on the other,
In perfect balance,
Comfortable exactly as it should be,
And the waves keep rolling and rolling and spilling and drawing back,
Hush and crackle,
The embers glow and fade,
Slowly,
Slowly,
The traveler feels every last thread dissolve into the warm,
Soft sand and the soft,
Warm night sinking down deeper,
Deeper and deeper into peaceful rest and you can feel it too,
The soft rise and fall of the tide of your breath the heaviness of your body sinking into the bed the way the traveler sinks into the sand and you know you've always known the way of the river the way of the sea you simply let go and let the story sleep under the stars and so you sleep too Soft and deep and easy.
It's so simple to sleep now.
The waves rolling in and out.
In and out.
Sleep now.
Heavy and soft and safe.
You can sleep now.
Sleep now.
Sleep now.
