The Fool And The Faire

In tonight’s bedtime story, you attend the local Renaissance Faire for the first time for their traditional “Feast of Fools.” On this themed occasion, one attendee is chosen as the Royal Fool for a day, and today – it is you. Donning your new title, you receive special treatment for the day, but soon you discover that your role comes with unforeseen abilities and insights. The experience allows you to connect with the misunderstood archetype of the Fool.

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, No Time for Heroes by Christian Andersen, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Find the wisdom disguised as folly in tonight's folklore-inspired bedtime 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.

Listen to my voice for as long as it serves you,

And whenever you're ready,

Feel free to let go of the story and make your way into sleep.

If you're still awake as the story comes to a close,

I'll guide you through a relaxing visualization for embracing your inner wisdom.

In tonight's story,

You attend the local renaissance fair for the first time during their traditional Feast of Fools.

On this themed occasion,

One attendee is chosen as the royal fool for a day.

And today,

It is you,

Donning your new title.

You receive special treatment for the day,

But soon,

You discover that your role comes with unforeseen abilities and insights.

The experience allows you to connect with the misunderstood archetype of the fool.

Jesters do oft prove prophets.

William Shakespeare,

King Lear.

The air is scented with the warmth of spices and ale,

Cinnamon and cider,

The comforting aroma of a wood-burning fire over which the makings of a day's feast now roast.

Laughter and a low buzz of conversation bounce across the fields,

Lightening the energy of a slow-moving line for entry.

You savor the fresh air after the long,

Though admittedly picturesque,

Drive down with your tight-knit friend group.

Already the denizens of the line provide for ample people-watching.

It seems every other person has a more stunning and elaborate costume than the last.

You see Vikings and Valkyries,

Kings and queens,

Nobles and peasants.

This being your first time at the Renaissance Fair,

You are without a period costume,

But you doubt that it will hinder you from getting fully into the spirit.

You've got a fairly good idea of what to expect from your friends,

Seasoned veterans of the Ren Faire circuit,

Jousting,

Performances,

A bustling marketplace,

And sumptuous food and drink.

But they've also imbued this particular day with a heightened level of excitement.

After all,

It's one of the most anticipated weekends for fair-goers,

The annual Feast of Fools,

Inspired by the medieval tradition of the same name and with roots as far back as the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia.

This festival embraces role-reversal.

Kings and queens act as servants for the day,

Whilst paupers and peasants are elevated to lordly status.

The result is an event,

Your friends assure you,

Of great humor and absurdity,

The perfect initiation for a first-time fair-goer like yourself.

At last,

You reach the entrance gates,

Where costumed ticket-takers enthusiastically welcome you to the fairgrounds.

This really is a beautiful part of the country,

You think,

A place to which you might never have traveled otherwise.

The drive down soft fields of farmland and undulating,

Sunlit hills.

The fair itself is nestled in a large,

Open space in this green valley,

Far enough from the bustle of the big city to feel like it might be a place out of time,

A place where one could easily forget the advancements of modern civilization and connect with something older,

More universal about the human experience.

Passing through the gates really does feel like moving backward in time,

Entering a thriving,

Medieval city.

The grounds are lined with merchant stalls and extraordinary displays,

But what really catches your eye at every corner are the people.

There's marvelous diversity in the crowd,

People from all walks of life embracing the beauty and design of a bygone age.

You see folks dressed as lords and ladies,

Of course,

But some of your favorite costumes are the distressed and dirty peasants.

They seem to be having the most fun,

You reflect.

An air of fantasy exudes from many costumes as well.

You stop in your tracks to admire a couple,

Arm in arm,

Who are dressed to resemble great trees come to life,

With vines and branches erupting from their shoulders.

A woman with iridescent fairy wings drips with jewels and gemstones,

But you are also catching a theme to others.

In line with this weekend's emphasis on the Feast of Fools,

It seems every third or fourth person in costume is some variation on a jester or entertainer.

The scene is live with the jingle of bells and the song of laughter.

With maps of the grounds in hand,

You and your friends first navigate to refreshments.

Here the aroma of succulents and smoke is even more present.

You stop to admire the demonstration of a blacksmith who pounds rhythmically at a sword against an anvil.

On a modest stage,

A trio of petticoated ladies sing madrigals.

Their voices ring sweetly together.

From far off across the grounds,

The strains of bagpipes rise to meet their song,

Creating accidental harmony.

The day is sunny and mild,

And every face is a smiling one.

In time,

You notice a general shift in the crowd's movements and intentions.

Slowly but surely,

The smaller acts and merchants are emptying as droves of costumed attendees move further down the grounds.

Your friend group begins to migrate with the flow.

You ask where everyone is going,

And your friend Alex responds that the opening ceremony is about to begin on the main stage.

This,

Alex says,

Is where the Royal Fool will be designated.

For this,

He requires some context and bringing up to speed.

It's the best thing about the Feast of Fools,

Chimes in Morgan,

The most seasoned fair-goer you know.

One person gets chosen out of everyone to be the Royal Fool for a day.

They get all kinds of special treatment for the rest of the day,

Like in the Middle Ages when the fools and servants got to be kings and lords for a day.

This is my year,

She adds with a smirk.

Her costume,

Appropriately enough,

Is a colorful take on a harlequin.

Together,

You join the throngs of visitors who gather at the foot of a platform stage.

Shortly thereafter comes the burst of fanfare,

Trumpet and horn in jubilant cascade.

This heralds the entrance of an elaborate costumed king and queen,

Robed in ornate crimson and gold finery.

They take two great thrones in the center of the stage,

And they are joined by a third finely dressed individual.

He dramatically clears his throat and unfurls a scroll of parchment with precise gesture.

In a clear,

Carrying voice,

He announces the commencement of the annual Feast of Fools.

This too thunderous applause and whistles from the crowd.

Each year,

He continues,

We turn the town topsy-turvy,

So to speak,

By elevating one of the common folk to the position of royal fool.

This person shall sit higher even than the king until the sun sets tonight.

He will direct your attention to the servants making their way through at this moment.

Until last night,

They were the very highest of lords and ladies in the kingdom.

Today,

They bow to and serve you.

If you wish to be selected for the honorable position of royal fool,

Please kindly take one of their delightful delicacies.

Indeed,

There are several people milling through the crowd at this moment,

Each bearing a tray of small,

Decorative cakes.

Most fair-goers reach out to take one,

Though some decline.

One of the servants passes by you and your friends.

At first,

You intend to decline,

But Morgan nudges your arm and insists you take one.

It's part of the fun,

She insists,

And they're always delicious.

Once the treats are all passed out,

The messenger resumes his speech.

Very well,

He says.

If each of you would bite into your dessert now,

Or break it open,

We shall have our fool revealed.

And do bite carefully,

Dear friends,

You're not entirely sure what to make of the instruction.

Nevertheless,

As you watch the surrounding people bite eagerly into their cakes,

You go along.

Morgan and Alex bite right into theirs.

Morgan sighs,

But reflects that at least the cake is just as good as usual.

You break your small dessert open first with your hands,

Unsure what you're supposed to be looking for,

But there,

In the center of the cake,

Is something shiny and gold.

You reach in to pull it from the sponge,

Wiping crumbs away.

There is a tiny gold charm,

Like from a bracelet,

With an image delicately etched on one side.

It depicts a figure,

Clad in motley,

With a traveling pack slung over a shoulder and a flower clutched in one hand.

The character is in motion,

Walking nonchalantly forth,

With eyes to the sky.

Below the etched illustration are two words,

Small yet clear,

The fool.

At first you simply turn the thing over in your hands,

Curiously.

A low murmur is rising in the crowd,

But then you feel a hand clutch at your elbow.

It's you,

Morgan whispers excitedly,

You are the fool.

You shake your head,

Surely not,

You think.

It's your first time at the fair,

What are the odds?

And what do you know about being a fool,

Or a king for a day?

You try to shove the charm into Morgan's hands.

She wanted it after all,

But she refuses,

Grinning from ear to ear.

She's genuinely happy for you.

What better initiation is there,

She says.

You are still dazed,

As she grasps and holds your hand into the air.

Alex waves madly at the stage,

Calling over here.

Two of the costumed servants snake through the crowd to meet you,

Inspect the charm you discovered in your cake,

And escort you to the stage.

All is a blur.

You focus on Alex and Morgan,

In a sea of faces,

And a raucous round of applause,

Which slowly transitions to a unified cheer of royal fool,

Royal fool,

But you think,

I'm not even in costume.

As if your thoughts manifested it,

A coat of motley is thrown over your shoulders.

A crown,

Complete with bells and jester's tassels,

Is placed upon your head,

And a scepter topped with baubles and more bells in your hand.

The crowd cheers ever more,

As the king and queen rise from their thrones,

And kneel before you.

The messenger takes you by the arm,

And leads you from the stage,

Through a parting in the drapes,

Into a tent full of mirrors and clothing racks.

Beyond the curtain,

The crowd's adulation becomes slightly muffled,

And your head clears.

The fabric of the tent is a deep maroon,

Through which the sun shines a pinkish tint on everything.

Congratulations,

Says the messenger,

Shaking your hand.

You thank him with a nervous laugh,

Still got the charm.

You produce the little golden token.

Good,

He says,

Hold on to that,

It's like your golden ticket.

Everything's free today,

Food,

Drinks,

Paid attractions,

And you'll stay for the closing procession,

Won't you?

Oh,

Sure,

You respond,

Dumbfounded.

You are the guest of honor,

After all,

He smiles.

It starts at the powder gate,

At five.

Just be there a few minutes early,

To get lined up,

As he is about to turn you loose,

To rejoin your friends.

The messenger stops you for one more thing.

Listen,

He says in a lower tone,

As other cast members are exiting into the backstage tent.

It's all good fun,

The royal fool thing.

But I was the fool years ago,

And anyone who's ever worn the crown will tell you there's more to it than free food and parades.

Now he pulls you into a corner,

Out of earshot from the queen,

Who flashes you a smile before checking her powdered makeup in a vanity mirror.

All I can say is this,

The messenger continues,

Enjoy yourself,

Get as much as you can out of it,

But don't forget to stop once in a while and take a look around.

Take it all in.

It's easy to miss the forest for the trees,

If you know what I mean.

You respond in the affirmative,

Though really you haven't the slightest idea what he means.

He parts the curtains of the tent for you and directs you back around the stage,

Still feeling a little dumbfounded and clutching your fool scepter.

You emerge to find the beaming faces of Alex and Morgan waiting for you,

Another round of cheers from the dispersing crowd makes the backdrop for hugs from your friends.

You are the royal fool,

What an honor,

They cry,

And on your first visit to the fair,

No less,

This,

Indeed,

Is auspicious.

Motley clad and growing accustomed to the substantial weight of the fool's crown,

You,

Alex and Morgan,

Set forth to enjoy the fair's many other festivities.

Here and there,

You are stopped by fair-goers who want to take a photo with you or offer you congratulations on your crown.

You treat your friends to complimentary ice cream as you meander toward a small pavilion.

A performance by the illusionist,

Eric the Esoteric,

Is about to begin.

The illusionist stands before a table of various props,

Goblets,

Swords,

Dishes,

And more.

He welcomes the incoming audience with jovial greetings.

A woman companion joins him on stage.

She too smiles as she greets the folks entering the pavilion.

Their show begins with standard sleight of hand,

Card tricks,

Disappearing scarves,

And so on.

The most charming aspect of the act,

It seems,

Is the witty and humorous narration of the illusionist.

But it's when he calls for an audience volunteer that things get interesting.

He scans the hands that rise within the modest crowd.

Many viewers are eager to join the fun.

At his gaze falls on you,

The crown and the motley seem to ignite a little fire behind his eyes.

He invites you to the stage where his companion is busy preparing an opaque picture and a set of clear goblets for use.

The magician asks for your name and engages you in some small talk about the fair and your experience as the fool thus far.

Then he reaches for the opaque jug and explains its nature to you.

This,

He says,

Is a magic vessel,

Capable of dispensing any beverage or libation you desire.

All you need to do is ask.

So,

What will it be,

Fool?

My wish is your command.

With some hesitation,

You say the name of the first drink to come to mind.

Water.

There's laughter from the crowd,

Who likely expected you to start with something more top shelf,

But the illusionist doesn't seem to mind the simplicity.

Very well,

He says,

And produces a slender wand from the table.

He taps the picture three times,

Then pours slowly into the first of the goblets.

What flows forth is crystal clear liquid,

Which he hands you to taste.

You drink and confirm aloud that water it is.

Give us another one then.

You are starting to get into the fun.

As you utter your orders to the magician,

He pours,

Offering some glasses to you and some to eager members of the crowd.

The picture is seemingly endless in its capacity,

Pouring goblet after goblet of increasingly complex libations.

You laugh and taste and offer more and more inspiration.

In the echo of laughter,

You think of the messenger's advice to stop once in a while and take in your surroundings.

When you do,

Something changes in the atmosphere of the pavilion,

A kind of slowness,

A viscosity of time,

And a sparkle of energy settles around you.

The sounds of the crowd become muffled and low as the magician carries on,

For a reason you can't quite identify.

You turn your head to look at the magician's companion,

Who stands quietly at the corner of the stage.

She looks different from before.

You seem to see a veil draped over her,

Shimmering like stars at midnight,

And where before were loose braids.

You see her crowned with a horned diadem,

At its center a shining globe.

Her lips do not move,

And yet,

You can hear her voice,

Clear as a bell in your head.

She's speaking an incantation,

Repeating it over and over with rhythmic elegance.

You do not understand the words,

They're in some other language,

But a kind of intuition rises within you,

Hinting at the meaning beyond the eaves of the pavilion.

You can see a patch of sky,

So recently clear and sunny,

Gathering darkened clouds,

Yet as the woman,

She in the garb of a priestess,

Chants.

The darkness softens,

And the heaviness abates.

The clouds drift apart,

Regaining their gentle paleness.

She is the true mage of the pair,

You realize.

The magician delivers tricks and slights,

But here she is,

Holding sway over the very weather.

She is the composer of this fair and fine day.

As strangely as the insight came on,

However,

Now it recedes,

Leaving you as before in the spotlight.

The illusionist applauds and thanks you for your participation,

Handing you one of the goblets,

Filled with your favorite drink,

As a parting gift.

You step down from the stage,

Amazed at the vision you've just had.

The priestess,

Once again clad only in her costume as magician's assistant,

Winks at you as you go.

As you and your friends indulge in some shopping at the many vendors' tables,

You consider the curious vision.

Vaguely,

You probe Alex and Morgan about the experience of watching the act,

But they describe it with the same amused incredulity of anyone who's just watched a dozen baffling card tricks and is curious to know the illusionist's secret.

They don't seem to have seen anything more unusual than a bottomless vessel of liquid.

In time,

You meander across the grounds toward an enclosed tent,

Where a famed storyteller will soon perform.

You take seats inside,

Near the front,

As others make their way in for the start of the show.

When the storyteller first arrives,

He sets the scene immediately.

Dressed in the fine robes of a medieval troubadour,

He possesses a commanding yet kind voice.

His eyes sparkle.

At once,

He draws you in.

He begins his tale by describing a highly regarded court,

At which the knights were ever valiant,

And the ladies,

Ever virtuous.

It's a tale of courtly love,

About a knight and his queen,

One that at first you think you've heard before,

But that unravels with whimsy and surprise at each turn.

This bard is a master of language,

Turning poetic phrases with pointed humor and elegance.

He has the audience,

It seems,

Under his spell,

Augmented by his frequent eye contact with individual members,

Connecting with them,

Drawing them deeper into the world of the tale.

When he turns his gaze to you,

There in the front row in your cap and bells,

You feel instantly as if the rest of the crowd vanishes,

As if you are the only one he is speaking to.

And then,

There comes again the same strange sensation of time,

Crystallizing all around you,

Lights dimming,

Laughter diminishing,

To a soft buzz in the background.

The storyteller goes on telling his tale,

Turning from you to another ardent listener.

But it's as if he steps away from himself,

Leaving a spectral shadow behind,

While some version of him continues to enrapture the audience with this lay of courtly love.

Another version stays behind.

Regarding you,

This version is without the troubadour's threads.

Instead,

He dons a dark grey cloak,

In one hand he holds a staff,

And in the other a lantern which flickers in the settling darkness.

In the soft glow,

This shadow version of the bard begins to tell you another tale,

A parallel story to the knight and his lady.

This one,

However,

Is his own story.

It's a tale of love and loss,

And of moving through heartbreak to find himself again.

It's a story of rediscovering his passion,

And finding a new chosen family.

Among the people he's met here,

At the fair,

The language may be less flowery than that of the courtly saga,

But nevertheless it brings great emotion to you as you listen,

Stirring deep empathy for the hooded storyteller.

The light of the lantern sways,

Flickers,

And goes out.

At the same time,

The robed figure vanishes,

Leaving only the finely dressed troubadour upon the stage.

Just now concluding the tale,

Applause fills the tent,

And the storyteller takes a bow.

You join in the cheering.

Before he exits the stage,

However,

The bard looks to you again.

He pulls something from a pocket in his costume and tosses it to you.

Gleaming in the light,

You catch it,

A coin.

Your friends can hardly stop gushing about the storyteller's presentation,

How engrossing he was,

And how charming the tale.

You turn the coin over in your hands,

Agreeing with their every sentiment.

The next event on the horizon is a highly anticipated one,

The jousting tournament.

Together,

You travel to the tourney grounds,

Where stands are placed and draped with regal heraldry.

You,

In your motley,

Are spotted by some of the costumed fair workers,

Who insist that you and your friends take the seats of honor and put on quite the show of unseating the king and queen to accommodate you.

This is the feast of fools,

After all,

They cry,

Fussing over you and ensuring your comfort.

You are,

For all intents and purposes,

The monarch today.

The seats of honor afford you a wonderful view of the jousting fields,

Where armored knights are already busy preparing their mounts for the tournament.

A mass crowd is accumulating,

It seems like everyone at the fair has put aside everything else to see this final match.

The tourney begins with trumpet fanfare,

And the jousting knights are introduced.

In no time,

The fields are a-thunder,

With galloping hooves and the crash and splinter of lance on shield.

Soon enough,

The tourney comes down to two final knights,

One in scarlet and the other in white.

On the white knight's shield is a painted lion,

Rearing on its hind legs.

Before the final joust commences,

However,

This white knight,

Helmeted so their face is obscured,

Turns their horse and rides toward you in the box.

Might I ride with your favor,

Royal fool?

Comes the voice behind the helmet,

Oh,

You say in surprise,

Yes,

I suppose.

Morgan nudges you in the side,

Removing one of her wristcuffs and handing it to you.

Here,

She says,

Give this to the knight.

The white knight extends their lance,

And you slip the belled wristcuff over it.

The crowd,

Seeing this,

Roars with excitement,

Cheering on the knight with your favor.

And then,

The final jousting match commences,

With a thunder and a crack.

It's over in seconds,

The scarlet knight unseated from his horse,

And the white knight the victor.

The crowd erupts in raucous applause.

You clap and cheer along with them.

In the center of the field,

The white knight dismounts and helps the defeated scarlet knight up from the ground.

Both remove their helmets,

Revealing toothy grins beneath.

Shaking free from the helm,

A loose yellow braid falls upon the white knight's shoulder.

She waves gratefully at the crowd,

And at you.

You are watching her lead her horse back to the stables.

When it happens again,

The atmosphere shifts,

And the crowd's noise dies down to a whisper.

The white knight seems to you to be dressed in a pure white shift,

Her hair tied up with ribbons and woven through with leaves and flowers.

The gentle bay horse,

Meanwhile,

Has transformed before your eyes into another animal entirely.

As a lion walk before you,

Meek and mild under the steady hand of the lady knight,

The woman exudes a kind of quiet confidence.

You sense in her a strength that goes unnoticed day after day,

And which she transmutes into the glory of these games.

Your heart stirs with tenderness and admiration for her,

And as she drifts from your sight,

Lion under hand,

The atmosphere awakens once more.

Bells and whistles brighten before you leave the place of honor,

Though.

The white knight is again approaching you and your friends.

Thank you for your favor,

Your royal folly,

She says,

Subtly inclining her head.

Without it,

Surely,

I would have suffered a most grievous defeat.

I would like to present you with a token of my gratitude.

You look to Morgan and Alex,

Who nod eagerly.

You accept the offer,

Expecting something small and simple,

But to your amazement,

The knight unbuckles the belt that holds her scabbard across her waist,

Balanced across her supplicating hands.

She presents her sword and sheath.

You protest,

Surely you couldn't accept such a gift,

But you are the fool,

After all,

Tantamount to a king or queen,

She insists.

And so you accept the sword.

You fasten the belt around your waist,

Feeling the substantial weight of the sword at your side,

To think you'd enter the fair without even a hint of a costume.

And now you wear the motley of the royal fool and you bear the sword of the victorious knight.

Much of the rest of the day you spend in aimless leisure,

Treating your friends to more delightful sweets and refreshments,

Shopping in the market rows and admiring wandering demonstrations and performers.

The sun is lolling low in the sky,

Still the clouds remain featherlight,

A blessing you attribute to the undercover enchantress,

Remembering the messenger's words.

You stop every now and then to simply take in the beauty of the day and the denizens of the fair.

And now and then you seem to see beyond the costume or the appearance to the true nature of the subject,

There's a lowly dressed wench who nonetheless carries herself with the poise of an empress.

You see a couple walking together with all the awkwardness and promise of a first date.

Yet past that nervous veneer,

You can see two hearts,

Hopeful and bright,

With endless love to give,

A mother with a babe on her hip and a toddler tugging at her skirt,

Appears to you a cosmic arbiter of balance and wisdom.

Before too long,

The day slips away and it's time to prepare for the closing procession.

With your friends at your side,

You make your way to the Powder Gate,

A large,

Beautifully constructed gate tower at the far end of the fairgrounds.

Behind it,

There is a bustle of activity.

Here,

You part from your friends,

Arranging to meet them at the end of the parade route.

You recognize the messenger from the opening ceremony,

Just beyond the gate.

He smiles when he sees you and leads you merrily to your place in the procession.

And how was your day,

He inquires.

It's been marvelous,

You reply.

Beyond anything I could have imagined,

Really.

The messenger grins.

Stop to look around then,

Have you?

Yes,

You nod.

It's amazing what you can see,

If you're really looking.

The messenger taps his nose twice,

As if to say you've got it spot on.

The unexpected wisdom of Flolly,

He says,

An air of mystery lacing his tone.

He helps you climb into an ornate chariot,

Its drawn curtains threaded with stars,

And bids you farewell.

He's got to get back to the front of the line to kick off the parade.

Minutes later,

The music swells in the fragrant air,

Wispy with the cool oncoming evening.

Hoofbeats and wagon wheels rock the ground,

And you're on your way.

As you pass beneath the powder gate,

To thunderous applause from fair-goers on either side of the path,

A wave of joy comes over you.

Never have you been so celebrated,

And by a swath of strangers,

No less.

You hold your fool's scepter into the air,

Waving at the crowd and grinning from ear to ear.

You cast your fool's eyes upon them,

And it seems their souls become visible,

Each and every one.

They are all beautiful,

You think,

Shining like stars.

You swell with love for this place,

And for the motley crew of people who have gathered here,

Seeking community.

How many of them,

You wonder,

Grew up feeling alone,

More like there was no one out there who understood them.

And to be here,

Now,

Surrounded by such diversity of thought and experience,

Sharing bountiful joys and stories under the same enchanted skies.

You could call such a place a second home,

You think,

After a day like today.

As your chariot draws you through the crowd,

You find the beaming faces of your friends.

To you,

They are the most beautiful of all.

They are your chosen family,

And it feels as if that family has grown by the hundreds in the space of a few hours.

You wonder,

Would such an epiphany have come to you,

Had you not been crowned the royal fool that something sings back in your heart,

That you were meant to wear the motley,

To hold the scepter,

The sword,

The cup,

And the coin.

This path was set before you from the moment you stepped so ignorantly through the gates.

Today was never just a simple day away from the bustle of city life.

It was an initiation into a committed,

Caring community,

Yes,

But also into the secret wisdom reserved only for the fools,

The misfits,

The underestimated,

The sweet,

Sublime mystery of one who can see past appearances to what's really there.

As the crowds' cheers ring around you,

Holding you in a glorious embrace of love,

You promise to never forget what you've learned today,

To cherish the innocent wisdom of the fool.

The sun makes its decadent descent in the western sky.

You can feel its rays rising behind your chariot,

Framing you in golden light.

The wheels of a dozen wagons are slowing their pace,

But the wheel of the world turns on.

Let your body become heavy,

And your breath,

Deep.

As you exhale,

Release any tension or stress you may be holding onto.

Feel the weight of your body sinking into the surface beneath you.

With each breath,

Let go.

Release a little more.

Now,

Imagine a gentle light surrounding you,

A warm and comforting glow.

It can be any color,

Visualize whatever comes to mind,

Or choose a color that's relaxing or meaningful to you.

Know that this light represents the essence of your inner wisdom.

This light is a connection to the vast knowledge within you,

And a source of guidance and insight.

As you continue to breathe naturally,

See this light expanding in your mind's eye,

Enveloping you in a cocoon of tranquility.

Feel the warmth and love emanating from this inner wisdom,

Bringing a sense of peace to your entire being.

If it feels right,

You might pose a question to your inner wisdom.

It could be a question about your life,

A decision you're facing,

Or simply a desire for guidance or inspiration.

Just that within you lies the wisdom and intuition to navigate your journey.

As you ask your question,

Listen with your heart rather than your mind,

Feel a response emerging from the depths of your being.

It might come as a gentle knowing,

A subtle feeling,

Or even a vivid image.

Allow the wisdom to unfold without judgment or analysis,

And if no response comes right away,

That's okay too.

Simply allow the question to simmer in the depths of your inner wisdom,

Trusting that the answer may come to you in an unexpected way,

Or even in your dreams.

Breathe in the wisdom that arises within you,

Absorbing it like a healing elixir.

Feel the truth and clarity it brings,

Resonating throughout your entire being.

Trust that this inner wisdom is always accessible to you,

A guiding light in the darkness.

Now allow the question or any other thoughts to subside in this space of serenity.

Allow your awareness to soften,

Acknowledging and releasing any sounds you may hear within the room or outside,

And allow your mind to empty,

Acknowledging and releasing any thoughts that may be lingering or that rise to the front of your mind now.

Let them dissolve into this lovely play of light that surrounds you,

Let go of anything that you don't wish to take with you on your journey into sleep,

Breathe,

Softening into the surface beneath you,

And let your body soften,

Drifting into a state of deep relaxation.

Trust that as you surrender to the wisdom within,

Your dreams will be filled with insight and inspiration.

You are safe,

You are loved,

And you are connected to the boundless wisdom that resides within you,

The bountiful collective wisdom that you share with your community.

Breathe and find peace,

Knowing that you carry this inner light with you,

Always.

Good night.

Reviews

Loved what I heard! 😴15 minutes in! Will listen again, love all that you offer, Laurel! 🙏💙🙏

Wonderful story. As a long time Rennie this made me smile.

Absolutely brilliant! I used to juggle at the Colorado Ren-Fest as a street and stage performer and over 13 years developed The Juggling Jester character. The story telling was well done conveying the very real feeling of being a part of a family and something special working at Renaissance Festivals. I especially connected with what might seem a mystical experience for our Royal Fool, but the description of a change of perception when you pause to take it all in is also very real. Thank you for reconnecting me with some of my roots! Peace and Love, “Sebastian” Miles Eddy, Professional Fool!

I absolutely loved this bedtime story! I love it’s connection with the tarot and the meaning behind the fool, which I really identify with. I also really enjoyed the fact that it was set in a renaissance fair. The visualisation that followed was very good and I found it helpful.

Thank you for the wonderful meditation session. Loved your beautiful voice. Your voice allowed the meditation experience to be that much better.

Cool bedtime story with a modern twist, I loved it and can't wait for the next medieval festival.

Thank you Laurel

Hi Laurel, Whenever I talk to my friends about this App, I always mention you & your amazing stories. This one is not to be left out . Thankyou for telling it so beautifully. 😘👌🌷🐱🐱🐨