King Of The Vanir | Norse Mythology Sleep Story

In tonight’s Norse mythology-inspired sleep story, you are the captain of a longship that has been blown off course by a storm. As you and your crew get your bearings, you are drawn into the realm of the god Njord, who protects seafarers. He gives you sustenance and an enchanted wind to carry you forth, as you ponder your future on the seas.

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, Governor of the North by Joe Wandrini, Beneath the Mist by Spirits of Our Dreams, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Seek guidance from the Norse god of seafarers in tonight's mythology-inspired sleep story.

Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy-inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel and I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

I'm here to help you fall asleep,

So at any time,

Feel free to let go of the story.

You can always come back later.

If you're still awake as the story concludes,

I'll guide you through a relaxing meditation and body scan.

In tonight's story,

You are the captain of a long ship that has been blown off course by a storm.

As you and your crew get your bearings,

You are drawn into the realm of the god Njord who protects seafarers.

He gives you sustenance and an enchanted wind to carry you forth as you ponder your future on the seas.

So perish the old gods,

But out of the sea of time rises a new land of song,

Fairer than the old.

Over its meadows green walk the young bards and sing.

Build it again,

Oh ye bards,

Fairer than before.

Ye fathers of a new race,

Feed upon morning dew,

Sing the new song of love.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The sea is calm at last,

Her waves steady beneath the ship.

You and the crew,

Tempest-tossed and forlorn,

Have returned to your posts.

Breath and beating hearts return to their natural rhythms.

Hands pick up oars.

But all is not right yet.

For though those hands are capable and the strong-willed crew is ready to row,

The stars are wrong.

The way home which was so clear before,

Unfolding like a map in the constellations,

Is now clouded with fog and confusion.

Those stars that you can see beyond the curtain of vapor are strange and unfamiliar,

As if you're seeing them from the other side.

Lost,

Sings your heart,

Lost at sea.

After so many voyages,

So many victories,

So many triumphant returns,

You are lost.

The crew remain strong,

Doing their best to keep spirits up.

You've seen countless trips together and many a dangerous storm,

Though nothing like what you've gone through tonight.

Snared in the web of Ran,

You say,

Goddess of the sea and of the drowned.

With open ocean all around and the strange stars blinking above as though taunting you with their disorientation,

There is little to be done but wait for daybreak.

When you can find your direction by the sun compass,

The crew secure the oar holes and continue mending those parts of the ship damaged by the storm.

You whisper a litany of gratitude for the ship's resilience and for the survival and safety of your crew.

You run a hand across the smooth ash.

The wood responds with an almost imperceptible warmth,

As though the ship knows your touch and extends its own gratitude to you for your long stewardship.

She is as old as your captainship,

And though some of her wood runs now with splinters and she shows signs of age,

She is still magnificent.

The best ship upon the water.

And so you surrender for now to the rhythm of the sea,

Each of you silently praying for the mercy of the oceanic gods,

Hoping they've worked enough of their wickedness upon you for one night.

In the generations since your people first took to the seas,

First shaped boats from the sacred timber of the native forests,

You've learned through experience the power and majesty of water.

It takes great courage to become a seafaring people,

A willingness to face the unknown.

The waves themselves are mighty movers and changers,

Against which man must put forth great effort to stride.

Rocky shoals and whirlpools add constant challenges,

Forcing you as captain to react and adapt swiftly.

And then,

There are the mysteries that lie beneath the waves,

The beings that swim in the salty deep,

Rarely breaching the surface.

During your brief stints on land,

Your heart lies on the ocean and you cannot bear to be long away from her.

You've made engravings to illustrate your voyages.

You illuminate the obstacles and mysterious swaths of open ocean where you've glimpsed a wonder before,

With elaborate sea creatures,

Chimeric fish with the heads of goats and lions,

Horses with fins and scales,

Long-necked serpents.

Your imagination runs wild sometimes,

But you sense that your day-dreamt creatures are far less whimsical or strange than what the ocean truly conceals beneath.

The knowledge of seafaring,

However,

Cannot be conveyed by static means,

Illustration,

Runes or otherwise.

There's a wisdom that lives in the bones,

Passed down by the ancestors through stories and experience.

No one can tell you how to sail,

To row,

To voyage.

It must be learned through action and communion with the ocean's will.

The connection you feel with this ship,

As though she's an extension of you,

That was not automatic.

It evolved as any relationship into a loving and significant bond.

You feel similarly toward your crew,

Many of whom have been with you since your first voyage,

Indeed since this ship was built.

Others are younger,

Bright-eyed companions who stepped in to row their father's oars,

Absorbing the wisdom of their elders.

You are grateful for their trust in you.

The night is brisk,

The moist air thick with salt and swept by breeze.

It will be many hours yet before the sun breaks over the horizon,

And in this cloudy confusion you are not yet sure upon which horizon to expect it.

All around you,

Only sea and darkness,

The carved dragon's head at the bow of the ship stretches.

Its expression ever fierce and determined into pale oblivion.

But even in the obscure dim of night and the uncertainty of the sea's intentions,

There is lightness among you.

For deep bonds of friendship connect your crew,

Forged over many voyages together,

And only strengthened by pulling each other through tonight's storm.

The ever optimistic Torsten,

Your oldest and dearest companion,

Suggests that you pass the time till morning by singing songs of the gods.

Perhaps,

He says,

If you do justice to their tales of valor,

They might hear your praise upon the winds,

Take pity on you,

And send you aid.

And indeed,

As the singing begins,

A sacred covenant is kindled between you.

The threads of poetry strengthen you as a unit,

Standing against nature's wildness and the unknowable depth of the sea.

You sing,

Together in force,

Of Odin and his quest for wisdom,

The All-Father and King among the Aesir,

Those warrior gods who dwell in Asgard.

He thirsted for wisdom as man thirsts for water.

With his strong sons he traveled via Bifrost,

The burning rainbow bridge that traverses Yggdrasil,

The World Tree.

They arrived at the tangled roots of the tree,

Seeking the well of Urd,

Home of the Norns.

These are the three wise women who are guardians of the past,

Present,

And future.

In turn,

They spin,

Measure,

And cut the thread of each life.

They even measure the destinies of the gods,

As beings of awesome power.

They draw water from the well each day,

And tend to the roots of Yggdrasil,

Nurturing the very existence of the universe.

After receiving counsel from the Norns,

Odin knew he had to leave his sons behind in the pursuit of the wisdom he desired.

He dressed himself in wanderer's clothes,

Casting away the finery of a king.

His body aged and his beard turned white.

But he stepped forth with grace and acceptance of his new role as wanderer.

And Odin,

The wandering god in search of wisdom,

Climbed the roots of Yggdrasil,

Hand over hand,

Summoning all his strength to do so.

He climbed through the cold of Niflheim and through the snows of Helheim.

He met the Trixie Ratatosk,

A giant squirrel who travels up and down the trunk of the World Tree and throughout the nine realms,

Whispering secrets in the ears of gods and men.

And in the halls of Helheim,

Odin slew a dragon,

And he climbed still onward,

Upward toward Midgard,

The realm of humankind,

And he had many adventures,

Even stealing the mead of poetry,

Which he thought would bring him wisdom.

In the end,

It was at the Well of Mimir,

Which looked very like the Well of Urd,

Where the Norns spin their threads of destiny,

That Odin completed his quest.

He sacrificed himself to himself and exchanged his eye for the gifts of Mimir's wisdom.

And it was always said thereafter that Odin could see more with one eye than any other could with two.

But Odin's newfound wisdom was not all a gift,

For it came with the knowledge of Ragnarok,

The destruction of Asgard,

And the prophesied end of the gods.

The thread was spun,

The thread was measured,

And the thread would soon be cut,

As the song comes to its end with a bittersweet meditation on the nature of endings,

For nothing has meaning which does not end.

You feel a gust of wind against the back of your neck,

It sends a shiver down your spine,

But you imagine Odin's ravens,

Ugin and Munin,

Named for thought and memory,

Arriving on that wind as emissaries for the Allfather,

Or Odin himself in the form of an eagle,

Lured by your song,

Here to show you the way home.

Home.

The word forms in your mind and conjures images of the hearth fire,

Blazing and hot,

To stave off the long nights,

Never till now has the thought of dry land and a roof to sit under whetted your thirst so.

You've always thought of the sea as your home,

And the ashwood ship,

The crew,

Your family,

But here among the strange and clouded stars,

On cold and unknown waters,

You feel a tug and a twinge for solid ground.

You can sense the crew's spirits waning,

Though the song of Odin brought some energy to the ship,

Now solemn expressions return to all faces.

Who has another song of praise,

Or amusement,

You ask?

The gods have not heard us yet,

So we must keep singing,

If only to keep ourselves warm.

The ship bobs in the rolling water,

And quiet takes the crew,

But then from the vortex of silence comes a single voice,

So clear and sweet and childlike,

That at first you cannot think of it as one of your crew,

But it's the youngest,

Newest rower,

A hopeful youth called Olen,

On his first voyage,

And he sings a song of the sea,

One you've never heard,

But with a melody so familiar that it rings deep in your bones.

It's a song of the Vanir,

The gods of wisdom,

Prophecy,

And fertility,

Who dwell in Vanaheim and not in Asgard.

Their king is Njord,

And he is the father of Freyr and Freyja,

Goddess of love,

Beauty,

And war.

She rides a golden chariot across the sky,

And the chariot is pulled by two cats.

With Odin's permission,

She claims half of those warriors who fall nobly in battle to dwell with her in a heavenly hall known as Folkvang,

While the other half go with Odin to Valhalla.

Njord himself is a god of the sea and of ships,

Of all human activity upon the waters.

He protects seafarers like you,

And blesses the trade routes on the open ocean and the fishing boats near the shore.

He married the goddess of winter,

Skadi,

But their union was fraught,

As she could not bear to live near the sea,

And he could not be hid in the mountains so far from water,

And hearing the wolves howl at night,

You feel a kinship with the figure of the sea god in the way your heart tugs endlessly toward the sea.

Olin's song is a lovely one,

And its repeated chorus is easy to learn.

One by one you hear voices from the crew join in through chattering teeth.

Gaining strength with each who joins,

You too begin to sing in the fold,

And the song rises in hope and praise,

One voice from many,

Reaching up to the heavens and out across the waves like a wind,

Swirling in the night.

It travels,

You hope,

You pray,

That it reaches an ear of someone who might help you.

You cast your eyes across the surface of the water,

Obsidian and shifting toward an invisible horizon,

And it seems you can see the song,

Wind made solid,

In the far distance.

It takes on a greenish hue and spirals,

Twists like the ribbons of the lights that sometimes dance in the northward skies.

What wishful eyes,

Hoping for miracles,

See in the darkness.

But then there's a gasp from one of your crew,

And a crying out in awe and delight,

For they can see it too,

The twisting stream of light.

And yes,

As you strain your eyes,

Disbelieving,

It does seem to expand and brighten,

Becoming more and more alive.

Without another moment's hesitation,

You command the crew to row toward the light.

You do not know what it may portend,

But it is something other than darkness.

This you must seize on.

The oars are restored,

And your crew seems livelier than before,

As if new breath invigorates their bodies,

New hope propels their movement.

Forth you go,

The dragon's head bow,

Cutting a straight path through the rolling waves.

Your heart is beating in your chest,

And a feeling of anticipation rises like a swelling wave within you.

So buoyant,

It might lift you up so that you soar with the wind on your face,

The rhythmic rowing,

The echo of Olin's song,

Carry you forward like the tattoo of a war drum.

And on the unseen horizon,

A ribbon of greenish light melts into a film against the black sky like the rays of an eerie sun,

Breaking over the ends of the earth,

Silhouetted against the light.

Black forms emerge,

Rocky and sharp.

You signal for the crew to slow down and row carefully.

There are cliffs,

Or something like them,

Ahead,

But there is no need to row slowly,

Or swiftly,

And no need to work to avoid the obstacle,

For the same effervescent wave of anticipation that tugs at you like a fishhook tugs at its catch,

Now animates the entire ship.

It's as if the eighty oars that propel the ship forward in water have become as many wings,

With a glorious tilt and a lift,

And a lurching of many bodies.

The dragon-headed longship begins to sail upon the wind,

First only hovering just above the water,

And now up,

Up,

And over the rocky cliffs,

And into the curtain of magnificent emerald and white light.

As the ship moves through the luminescent veil,

You feel a warmth unlike anything you've ever known,

A feeling of being loved,

Sheltered and cradled by light,

And a wild tingling of familiarity.

Then longing,

Tears,

Spring to your eyes,

And you feel at once exhilarated and entirely at peace,

Weightless,

Unbound.

All around you is only light,

Blue and green and white as the play of sun upon waves and sea foam.

You breathe in the warm and otherworldly air,

More nourishing and cleaner than any air you've breathed on land or sea.

Soon the pale and glimmering light recedes like waves from the beach,

And your surroundings materialize.

It's as if your eyes have been uncovered to a truth that was always there before you,

But never seen.

A city made of sand and sea glass.

Your ship,

Now a dragon in flight,

Coasts through the open air and maneuvers round bell towers and gabled rooftops without any steering,

Clouds caress your skin.

Little mist kisses as the ship swoons.

The whole city too floats,

Hovers above the surface of the sea which glitters below.

You bend over the side of the ash wood ship and marvel at the lightness of the air through which it travels.

That holds up the city,

You wonder.

Does it balance on curls of light made up of songs of distant voices?

And how does your ship seem to know where it's going?

Does it feel in the heart of this city the presence of something great,

As you do?

Or is it simply being strung along,

Drawn in by a powerful force as fish are snared in the net?

The city's floating hills and valleys of sand evanesce as your vessel drives on toward the culmination,

A great and mighty hall,

Not unlike the one in which your king holds his feasts,

But grander by far and notably,

Instead of the dual horse-head gables that adorn your king's mead hall.

This structure is crowned with the carved sea-glass heads of a dolphin and a gull,

Creatures of sea and of sky.

And at last you arrive,

The ship slowing to dock at the steps of the hall,

Which are sandy and windswept,

Instructing your crew to have caution,

But inwardly trembling with curiosity and wonder.

You climb over the side of the ship and onto the stair.

Your feet leave indented footprints in the sand of the staircase,

But it feels sturdy to you.

What's about you,

You call to the crew.

We know not who dwells within this wondrous hall.

I do,

Calls one of your men,

Whose voice barely contains a shudder.

This is the work of Loki,

The god of mischief.

He has tricked us into stepping away from our posts,

And he will steal away with our ship,

Leaving us stranded at sea.

You comfort the rower,

But you do not believe his suspicions.

Such a trick would surely be worthy of the mischief god.

But this place speaks of a different power,

A purer power.

You turn your eyes to the doors of the hall at the top of the steps.

They are open wide,

Inviting.

You must know what lies within.

It is a strange feeling,

Making your way up the sandy steps and being at once betwixt and between the land,

Sea,

And sky.

It's a space of liminality you might once have found unnerving,

But in this context it feels entirely safe,

Comforting even.

Sea glass glitters in the soft,

Etheric light.

The cold and dark of night feels like another lifetime.

When you reach the final step,

Your crew at your back,

You turn round to take in the whole of the city from such a height.

It's astounding,

The view.

You watch as the winds blow sand from the surfaces of structures,

Wearing down the towers and temples to dust.

But as the sand disperses and falls,

It settles into new and reconstructed buildings so that everything is formed and reformed again and again before your eyes.

Only the Great Hall,

On the steps of which you stand,

Appears immune to the shifting of the sands.

And far off,

From whence you came,

You can see the blue and green and white light dissolving into darkness.

So it is still night outside this strange city.

Onward then,

You charge your crew,

Together,

Through the doors of the hall which shimmer like mother of pearl.

And as you pass through the doors,

Your ears are met with wondrous music,

The low and resonant strings of the toggle harpa,

The bowed lyre.

You do not see the player anywhere,

But the music seems to come from all directions,

Even from the walls.

It hums in your chest.

To your surprise,

The ceiling of the hall opens up to a perfectly round and gaping oculus,

Through which the tender blue-tinged light streams in a sharpened shaft.

It falls upon the floor where a great bronze sun compass is embedded.

You nearly fall to your knees when you see it,

For the light falls so precisely,

And the shadow points so plainly north,

That home seems infinitely within your reach.

But this is not the greatest wonder of the hall.

Beyond the light of the oculus and the gleaming bronze of the compass,

A figure is seated at a table,

Laden with the fruits of the sea.

He is larger than life,

But he is no giant.

There are seashells and starfish tangled in his pearly beard.

He wears a simple crown of knotted sea grass on his brow,

And his eyes sparkle like the ocean under a starry sky.

His laughter booms across the walls,

And the music of the lyre plays on.

Lost travellers,

He names you.

It's true.

And he welcomes you to this,

His temple of the lost.

He is Njord,

Whispers a voice.

Olens,

From behind you,

King of the Vanir,

And god of seafarers,

He has heard your song,

And now you understand the unseen music of the lyre.

It's the song of praise,

Yours or another's,

Being carried by winds across the sea,

To echo in this godly hall.

You speak for all and ask the figure if he is indeed the mighty Njord,

Ruler of the seas and protector of those who sail upon them.

He meets your eyes with a twinkle and a whisper of a nod.

And how is it,

You ask,

That our ship came to the steps of your hall,

And what purpose do you have with us?

The god leans back in his opulent chair and half closes his eyes,

Apparently listening to the low ringing music.

All who know the wildness of the seas,

Who ride upon her waves like riders on unbroken stallions,

Who trade via her waters and fish in her depths,

Are my children,

He says.

His voice is deep and musical,

Like the tones of the lyre.

You brought yourselves here,

He adds.

Your ship already knew the way.

You think of the ship,

Made of the timber from a sturdy ash tree,

The same tree that is Yggdrasil,

The world tree.

Its branches stretch high into the heavens and out into the cosmos,

And its roots curl deep into the underworld.

And the nine realms all exist upon its axis.

When the ship was first built,

You,

Its captain from the moment of its making till today,

Selected ash for this reason,

For its quality of reaching in and out of the world through all the realms,

Connecting man to the gods and the giants and the dwarfs,

To the eagle who sits atop the branches,

And even to the serpent who winds its way among the roots.

Your ship brought you here.

You feel a surge of affection for the vessel,

Which has carried you across the sea for so many voyages,

And for the ash tree that gave it life.

Mjord invites you and your crew,

Whose eyes are wide and quivering with hunger,

To sit and share in his bounty.

The table is set for two and forty,

Your party,

Exactly.

All at once the tremulous hunger of days at sea,

With only preserved rations,

Most of which went overboard in the storm,

Overtakes you.

What sweet and succulent food the god has at his table,

More than a crew of a hundred men could consume.

So you eat,

And you drink,

And you laugh with your crew,

Your loyal and beloved family on the sea.

You pause through the feasting once or twice to look upon the faces of those fellows,

How they shine in the light of Mjord's hospitality,

How youthful they look.

Even those who've sailed with you from the start appear rejuvenated in this hall.

You are grateful to have shepherded them,

Your old friend Torsten,

Whose face is creased such that he always appears to be smiling,

Even in times of distress.

The young and green Olen,

Who's worked hard to earn his place among the crew and all those in between.

You've shared many an adventure,

And they may yet see wonders beyond even this,

A feast in the temple of the sea god.

And no one can consume a morsel more,

Nor drink another drop.

Mjord calls for song,

He knows you carry them deep within you,

For he heard your voices on the waves.

Hearts are light,

And voices lift to the high ceilings and the oculus above.

You sing,

Together,

Songs of the Aesir,

Of Thor and his hammer,

Of Baldr,

The most beautiful of the gods.

And you sing,

Too,

Of the Vanir,

Of Mjord's own daughter Freyja and her cloak of falcon feathers.

You sing of Heimdall,

Whose burning golden eyes can see the future,

And of Kvasir,

The wisest of the gods,

Who was both Aesir and Vanir.

Mjord delights in your music and fellowship for many hours.

As the light through the oculus travels far,

And casts long shadows on the sun compass in the floor,

It's a pleasant and almost foreign sensation,

Contentment.

For as long as you can remember,

You've always been in a state of longing,

A state of inhalation,

Stretching toward the horizon,

Gathering up as much as you can.

Yearning for the next adventure,

The next burst of energy,

The next gasp of knowledge.

You've never stood still in one place long enough to become content anywhere.

This is only a taste,

And it's strangely satisfying.

What might it be like to settle at last on the shore?

What might it be like for your adventures at sea to come to their close?

The songs conclude.

As a wave of jovial exhaustion takes the crew,

Bodies sit back in chairs,

And dreamy smiles curl across lips.

Mjord is thankful for your company and the gifts of your song,

For he loves seafarers above all.

Those who dare to tame the wild waters are the most admirable of all mankind,

He believes,

And so he wants to offer you a gift.

Mjord,

Larger than life and smiling broadly,

Produces two items as if by magic.

At first,

They seem identical,

A leather purse in each hand,

The size of small hogs,

And tied with brown twine.

You may choose only one of these offerings.

One purse is full of gold,

For Mjord is the god of riches,

Too.

The other is a purse of winds,

To fill your sail and carry your ship to any destination.

Swiftly and safely,

The choice is yours.

Your crew members look to you as their leader and champion to make the choice.

You can read a lust for gold in many an eye,

But in others you see the reflection of ocean waves,

Distant shores,

And the promise of earned wealth through escapade.

Your people have never been the type to shy away from an adventure.

So it's with soaring optimism and full confidence that you claim the purse of winds and your crew cheer for your response.

Mjord,

Too,

Seems happy with your choice,

For he loves to see boats on the water and hear songs on the wind with a full heart and the admiration of your fellows.

You give thanks to Mjord for his hospitality.

He has more than earned your adoration and a lifetime of devotion.

You'll visit his temples on every shore,

And you'll compose new songs to him which you'll share across the wide world.

Taking your leave,

Passing under the shaft of light and over the threshold to the sandy stair,

You breathe the salty air of Mjord's rapturous realm,

Hovering between land,

Sea,

And sky.

Your ship is waiting for you in the floating harbor,

And to your astonishment,

It is like new.

The gleaming ash is smooth as when it was first cut and sanded,

And the sail is repaired.

The dragon's head bow no longer weathered and worn,

But refreshed and bright,

And its eyes shine with a greenish-blue radiance,

Sea-glass eyes,

With the purse of winds in your hand and the sea's most esteemed crew.

You depart the sea-god city,

Parting the mists and sailing through the veil to find the sun shining bright on the other side.

You savor every league of the journey home,

Which is swift and secure,

Thanks to Mjord's magic wind.

You savor the glittering waves,

The specks of sea spray that dapple your skin,

And the cloudless sky above,

Looking up.

You imagine you can see Freya's golden chariot guiding your way on the horizon,

A familiar beach.

You savor all of it,

And store it deep within your memories,

Knowing and accepting that this will be your last time sailing on this ship,

Your last great adventure.

And what an adventure it was.

You'll pass the mantle of captain to another worthy seafarer,

And you'll pass along the wisdom of the seas.

You'll know your beloved ship is in good hands,

For all the crew has grown to love her just as you do.

It will be alright.

Stepping from the boat onto the sands of your homeland,

You nearly fall to your knees.

Your body still sways with the motion of the waves and the internal ocean that surges and churns.

It will be some years yet till the subtle sway subsides,

And you at last adapt to the stillness and pace of dry land,

But the glint shall never truly leave your eye,

Nor shall the sea salt leave your tears.

You are a child of Njord,

A seafarer always,

But it is Odin you think of as your legs tremble against the unyielding earth.

Odin and his quest for wisdom,

At the conclusion of which he learned of the looming Ragnarok.

For nothing has meaning which does not end,

And endings in themselves are meaningful.

With a long exhale,

You release yourself from regret.

You can almost feel Odin's twin ravens,

Thought and memory perched upon your shoulders,

Whispering blessings to you,

The waves roll out behind you,

And off you go toward the hearth.

Take a deep breath in with the land that surrounds you,

Grounding still,

Solid,

And out.

Take another deep breath with the energy of the sea and your surrounding waters,

Rivers,

Lakes,

Streams,

And pools,

And out.

Take one more deep breath with the sky,

The endless,

Open sky,

Above and out.

Feel how the three aspects of land,

Sea,

And sky are present in your surroundings and in you.

Your body,

Mind,

And spirit feel how the breath connects you to all three aspects,

Earth,

Water,

And air.

Settle into a natural rhythm of breath,

Feeling how the inhale brings freshness and lightness in,

And the exhale clears away stale energy and darkness.

Send the energy and awareness of the breath to the crown of the head,

Clearing out old energy,

Thoughts,

And distractions,

And breathing in lightness,

Warmth,

And freshness.

Clear tension from the forehead and the temples.

Breathe and relax the muscles of the face,

Loosening the jaw,

Bringing lightness in,

And send breath into the muscles of the neck.

Loosen and lighten the neck and the shoulders,

The shoulder blades,

Breathing in freshness.

Let the breath and awareness travel now down the arms,

Relaxing and loosening the upper arms,

The elbow joints,

And the forearms,

The wrists.

Really loosen in the wrists and let go of tension in the hands,

The palms,

And the fingers.

Feel the lightness and energetic flow in the spaces between the fingers.

Linger in that negative space for a few moments,

And enjoy the sensation of lightness and warmth,

The energy field surrounding you right at the edges.

Return to the breath and awareness in the chest,

Loosening and relaxing your muscles,

Breathing into the lungs and down the back of the body,

And deep into the belly.

Lightness and freshness coming in,

Darkness and stale energy leaving on the exhale.

Breathe into the hip flexors,

Where we store so much tension during the day.

Really let the hips relax and soften,

Letting the breath carry away anything you don't need right now.

Relax the glutes and the upper legs.

Loosen in the knee joints,

Sending some breath and some extra love there.

Our knees carry so much and deserve so much gratitude.

Let the breath massage out any discomfort.

Now loosen the calves and the lower legs.

Send breath into the ankles.

Relax your ankles and the tops of your feet.

Breathing into the soles of your feet,

Feeling lightness enter on the inhale,

And releasing darkness,

Heaviness on the exhale.

Now bring that awareness and relaxation to the toes.

Feel the lightness and the flow of energy in the spaces between your toes.

Spend a little time in that space between,

And the space right outside your body.

Breathe with the land that surrounds you,

Solid and strong.

Breathe with the waters beyond,

Fluid and changing.

Breathe with the sky above,

Longing and uplifting.

Come home to yourself,

Your body,

Your mind,

And your spirit.

Carry it all with you and savor it.

Stoke it with your inner hearth fire.

Sweet dreams.

Reviews

Amazing Stories! So easy to fall off to sleep

Another exquisite story! This sleep meditation was especially powerful and so deeply soothing. Thank you!

I didn’t hear much of this story as I slept through it! I’m very grateful for your stories and the soothing way you tell them with your lovely relaxing voice. I sleep much better since discovering this channel so thank you so much for sharing 🙏🏻

Wonderful, as always! Thank you for sharing your creativity as well as your VOICE. 💖

Delightful story, nice voice and ambient music. Both times I’ve listened, however, I have fallen asleep in the first five minutes, so I really can’t tell you more!

love this story! you do an amazing job telling it!

Always try to write a review for these great story’s.11 out of 10

Just stunning— May be the waning full moon energy but i just stayed awake through the whole tale, not wanting to miss a beat! The blend is exquisite🫶🏼 I would love to hear what you can do to bring to life origin stories and mythologies of African and Native American cultures… i will listen again perchance to dream…

So wonderful! These are so creative and soothing. Thank you! 💖

Very good, but I didn’t even make it halfway through. Went to sleep .. thanks