There are nights.
.
.
When sleep feels far away.
As though the mind is still wandering somewhere beyond the room,
Still carrying pieces of the day.
And perhaps that is alright.
Perhaps the body was never meant to fall asleep instantly.
Perhaps it first needs a little time to soften,
To settle.
To arrive here completely.
So tonight.
Rather than trying to sleep.
Simply begin by resting.
Notice the feeling of the blankets around you.
The temperature of the air against your skin.
The weight of your body meeting the bed beneath you.
And very gently.
Begin to lengthen the exhale.
Not forcing the breath.
Only allowing it to slow naturally.
Breathing in softly.
And exhaling a little slower each time.
As though the body is sighing the day away.
Perhaps you notice places still quietly holding tension.
The jaw,
The shoulders,
The chest,
The stomach.
Rather than changing anything.
Simply notice.
Simply let those places feel seen for a moment.
Outside.
The world is growing quieter now.
Lights dimming in distant windows,
Roads emptying.
The night sky stretching endlessly above rooftops and sleeping trees.
And somewhere beyond it all.
The sea continues its ancient rhythm in the darkness,
Wave after wave,
Without rushing,
Without effort.
Perhaps the body remembers this rhythm too,
The slow rhythm of resting.
The ancient rhythm of night.
Thoughts may still come and go.
Drifting through the mind like lanterns floating across dark water.
Appearing softly.
Them disappearing again.
Without needing to be followed.
You're breathing slower now.
Your body heavier beneath the blankets.
The room softer around you.
And little by little.
The nervous system begins to understand.
But nothing more is needed tonight.
Nothing more to carry.
Nothing more to solve.
Only this quiet moment beneath the dark sky.
So remain here for a little while.
Breathing slowly.
Resting gently.
While sleep finds its own way back to you.
