Welcome.
Let's start by getting comfortable.
You don't need to sit upright or hold any kind of meditation pose.
Just find the position your body is secretly asking for.
Maybe it's lying on your back.
Maybe it's curled to one side.
You can move,
Sigh,
Or adjust as many times as you like.
Tonight isn't about stillness.
It's about softening.
And as you arrive here,
Take a slow breath in through your nose.
Let it travel all the way down to your belly.
And then let it go.
Let it go as a real release,
As if you're setting down a bag you've been carrying all day.
Let's do that again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Surrender.
Feel the body starting to trust gravity again.
Allow yourself to let go of the things that you keep holding and that you keep proving.
Before we drift into rest,
I want you to take a moment to acknowledge this day.
Try not to judge it or fix it or label it as good or bad,
But rather acknowledge what happened.
And acknowledge that it happened.
It was one of your finite number of days on earth,
And you showed up for it.
And there is a chance that you didn't show up for it as perfectly or gracefully as you wanted to.
And yet you were here.
You breathed.
You thought.
You felt.
And you tried.
So let's honor that.
Take a breath in for everything you did today.
And as you exhale,
Breathe out all the tiny expectations that you didn't meet.
They're not needed where you're going tonight.
You know,
Sleep isn't something we achieve.
It's something that happens when we stop pretending to be awake.
So let's practice that.
The act of not pretending.
If there's still noise in your head,
That's okay.
If there's a conversation,
Replaying,
A worry about tomorrow,
Or that one thing you wished you'd said differently,
Don't chase it away.
Just notice it and quietly say,
Okay,
You exist and I don't need to solve you right now.
You might feel your breath deepen naturally when you do that.
That's your nervous system understanding it's safe to power down.
Let's move awareness slowly through the body.
Imagine you're listening to the body speak in its own quiet language.
Start at your feet.
They've been carrying the weight of the world literally all day.
So let them spread,
Melt,
And rest.
Thank them without words.
Move up to your calves and knees.
Maybe they're holding tension from standing,
Walking,
Striving.
Breathe into them like you're pouring warm honey through the legs.
Thick,
Slow,
Forgiving.
Let the thigh soften.
The hips,
The emotional vaults of the body might sigh or twitch.
That's okay.
Allow them to untangle and then move to the belly.
So much of our modern life keeps the belly tight.
Screens,
Stress,
Self-image.
Let yours rise freely with the next inhale.
And fall naturally with the exhale.
Try to notice whether you're forcing yourself to breathe right.
And if so,
Just breathe real.
And the chest,
Feel it expand slightly as if making space for something tender.
The shoulders,
Allow them to drop,
Lower,
Even lower.
Let gravity do the work.
Your arms,
Hands,
Fingers.
They've been reaching,
Typing,
Touching,
Doing.
So let them remember what it's like to simply be.
Let them rest like leaves floating on still water.
And your jaw,
Feel it unclench.
Let the mouth open a little if it wants to.
The tongue can rest on the floor of the mouth.
And your eyelids,
Heavier now,
Don't have to fully close yet.
But let them soften as if they're slowly surrendering to dusk.
And finally,
Your forehead.
Smooth it out as if you were erasing the storylines written there.
And now your whole body is lying here.
Not performing relaxation,
But becoming it.
Let's take a moment to reflect on something we often forget.
Every night is a small rehearsal for letting go.
The world goes dark,
We surrender control,
We dissolve into the unknown.
And somehow we trust that morning will come.
Now that's a profound act of faith,
Even if you've never thought of it that way.
So tonight,
Let yourself practice dying a little gentle kind of death.
The death of the day.
Let go of who you were this morning,
What you accomplished,
What you didn't.
Let the day die softly so that something fresh can be born to you.
Tomorrow.
Because that's what sleep is.
Rebirth,
Disguise,
Disrest.
Now let's do a small breath ritual together.
It might be simple,
But it's very powerful.
So inhale through the nose for a count of four.
Hold gently for a count of two.
Exhale through the mouth for six.
Let's repeat that three more times.
Inhale,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Hold,
Two,
Exhale,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six.
Do it once again.
Hold,
Exhale.
And one last time.
Inhale,
Hold,
Exhale.
Each exhale,
Imagine dust being blown off your inner shelves.
Inhale clarity.
Exhale residue.
Inhale peace.
Exhale effort.
Inhale life.
Exhale death.
Exhale the day.
Now don't try to make yourself sleep.
Instead,
Imagine you're sitting by a lake at twilight.
The surface is glassy,
Reflecting everything without effort.
You don't need to dive in.
You don't need to swim.
Just watch the ripples fade.
That's what your mind is doing right now.
It's rippling,
Then stilling,
Then rippling again.
And that's fine because sleep isn't a switch,
But more a slow fading of light.
So just like that,
Let your thoughts dim naturally,
One lamp at a time,
Until the house of your mind is quiet.
If a thought flickers on again,
Don't get up to turn it off.
Let it burn itself out.
At this point,
You may already be drifting,
Half in dream,
Half in death,
Half in dream,
Half in breath.
If you're still awake,
Just stay with the sound of your breath,
Like waves washing the shore.
Let each inhale remind you that life continues to move through you.
Let each exhale remind you that you can let go of everything else.
Now rest in the knowing that peace has found you.
And let the night have you completely.
