Welcome,
My friend.
This is Padma Gordon,
And I would love to tell you a bedtime story.
From the far,
Far east,
This is an ancient tale called the Mountain Temple of Stars.
So I'd like you to get really cozy in your bed.
Let the eyes close.
Let's take some nice,
Gentle breaths.
Yes,
Gentle breathing can be so,
So deeply relaxing.
Yes,
Gentle as a leaf floating down and down to rest upon still water.
In the ancient mountains of the east,
So high that their peaks touched the realm of heaven,
There stood a temple,
A temple known only to those who sought the deepest peace.
And tonight,
My friend,
You are climbing the path to this sacred place.
It is evening,
The golden hour when day kisses night.
You walk gently along a mountain path that winds upward through terraced gardens,
And each terrace is filled with flowering trees,
Cherry blossoms that drift through the air like snow,
Their petals brushing softly against your cheeks.
And with each step upward,
You feel lighter,
As if the mountain itself is lifting you.
The air grows clearer,
Fresher,
Scented with pine and the sweetness of distant flowers.
Your breathing becomes easier,
Deeper.
After a time,
You pass beneath a gate of weathered wood,
Through gardens where ancient stone lanterns glow with gentle flame.
You pass a pond so still,
It perfectly mirrors the darkening sky.
In this reflection,
You cannot tell where earth ends and heaven begins.
All is one,
One is all.
The temple comes into view now,
Simple,
Elegant,
Its curved roof pointing toward the stars,
Built of wood that has weathered to silver.
Standing here for a thousand years,
Waiting patiently for your arrival,
For your arrival,
Dear one.
You remove your shoes at the entrance,
Feeling the smooth,
Cool wood beneath your feet,
Wood polished by countless footsteps before yours,
Each person who came here seeking what you seek now,
Peace,
Rest,
Surrender.
Inside,
The temple is spacious and simple.
Walls of rice paper glow softly with lantern light from the outside.
The air smelling of sandalwood incense,
A scent that seems to slow down time itself.
In the center of the room,
There is a sleeping mat,
Perfectly prepared,
With silk cushions and a cover lit of the finest cotton.
You lower yourself onto this mat,
And it is like being embraced by clouds.
The temple master appears.
Though you did not hear him enter,
He is ancient and gentle,
His eyes holding the calm of one who has watched 10,
000 sunsets.
He nods to you with a small smile.
You are exactly where you should be.
He has been expecting you.
He lights a single candle,
Then another and another,
Each flame reflected in the polished floor,
Creating stars above and below.
You rest between these constellations,
Suspended between earth and sky.
Through the open walls of the temple,
You can see the mountains stretching away in every direction,
Layer upon layer,
Fading from dark purples to deep blues,
To the black of the distant horizon,
And above,
Oh,
Above.
The stars are beginning to emerge,
More stars than you have ever seen.
The sky is becoming a river of light.
The temple master begins to ring a singing bowl.
The sound it makes is like the voice of the universe itself,
Deep and resonant.
Washing over you in waves,
You feel the vibration in your chest,
In your bones,
And the sound seems to dissolve all tension,
All worry,
Leaving only peace.
Your body begins to grow heavy now,
My friend,
Sinking into the mat as if the earth is gently pulling you close,
Holding you in loving gravity.
Your eyelids grow heavy,
So heavy,
Heavier and heavier.
The master's voice comes softly now,
Speaking words in an ancient tongue.
You do not understand the language,
But your soul understands.
He is blessing your sleep,
Inviting the spirits of peaceful dreams,
Asking the mountain to share its eternal stability with you.
The candles flicker,
Casting gentle shadows that dance across the paper walls like memories,
Like dreams beginning to form.
Your breathing has become so slow,
So slow,
So peaceful,
Barely a whisper.
You become aware of the vast stillness of the mountain behind you,
This mountain has stood here since the beginning of time.
It has weathered storms and seasons without number,
Unmoved by the passing concerns of the world.
And now,
You,
My friend,
Rest upon this mountain,
Its ancient stability flowing into you.
The stars wheel slowly overhead,
Following their eternal paths.
The monks say that when we sleep,
Our spirits rise up to walk among the stars,
To remember our true nature,
To touch the infinite.
And so,
You rise now,
Not your body,
Which rests safe and heavy below,
Rather your awareness rising,
Floating,
Floating.
As light as air,
As light as thought.
You drift upward through the temple roof,
Up past the peak of the mountain,
Up into the star-filled sky.
And here,
Suspended in the infinite,
You find the deepest peace of all,
The peace of dissolution,
Of becoming one with the vastness.
Below your body,
Breathe slowly,
Steadily,
Watched over by the temple,
Protected by the mountain,
Blessed by the stars.
And here,
In this space,
Between heaven and earth,
Between waking and sleeping,
Between self and infinite,
You rest,
My friend,
Truly rest,
Floating in the cosmic dark,
Held by the vastness,
Held by love.
Let go now,
Releasing everything.
The mountain holds you,
Stars watch over you,
And peace,
Deep peace,
Fills all that you are.
So drift now,
Drift,
Drift,
Into the vast,
Into the quiet,
Into sleep,
Into sleep,
Into sleep.
Rest well,
Dear one,
Rest well.
