Wisdom Of The Centaur | Greek Mythology Sleep Story

In tonight’s sleep story, you are taken under the wing of the centaur Chiron, a wise and compassionate teacher. After a long day of training in hunting & archery, Chiron guides you back to your camp in the mountains of Thessaly, imparting knowledge of herblore, medicine, and astronomy along the way.

Key ingredients:
Greek mythology
Nighttime ambience (cicadas)
Body scan

Music: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, Samadhi by Syntropy from Epidemic Sound
Sounds by ZapSplat

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep and Sorcery,

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.

This is your time.

Concentrate on my voice only as long as it serves you to do so.

When you're ready,

Feel free to let go of the story and voyage into sleep.

In tonight's story,

You are taken under the wing of the centaur,

Kyren,

A wise and compassionate teacher.

After a long day of training in hunting and archery,

Kyren guides you back to your camp in the mountains of Thessaly,

Imparting knowledge of herb lore,

Medicine,

Astronomy,

And prophecy along the way.

A chattering crow lives out nine generations of aged men,

But a stag's life is four times a crow's,

And a raven's life makes three stags old,

While the phoenix outlives nine ravens.

But we,

The rich haired nymphs,

Daughters of Zeus,

The aegis holder,

Outlive ten phoenixes,

The precepts of Kyren,

Hesiod.

The first stars are just beginning to appear in the twilight sky as you lay down your bow.

You roll your shoulders to release the tension in your muscles and quietly admire the final arrow from your quiver now embedded deeply in your target at the heart of a mighty oak.

A voice from behind you,

Smooth and dark,

Speaks praise.

You hear gentle hoofsteps upon the grass.

Ten approaches,

Bringing forth an ointment for your shoulders.

The air fills with the fresh,

Sweet fragrance of mint leaf and peony.

As you apply the balm to your sore muscles,

You feel a sensation of subtle heat build and tingle where it meets your skin,

Bringing you relief and calm.

The sun disappears over the western horizon,

Leaving behind a swirl of intense magenta,

Violet and orange to mix in the sky like watercolors.

The explosive hues cast a pale and purple edge to reflect across the mountains and cliffs that surround you.

You can already feel the tension in your shoulders relaxing as a warm evening breeze activates the herbs in the ointment.

Across Clarence's chest is slung a bow and quiver.

The bow is exquisitely hand-carved from olive wood,

Custom fitted to his hand and inlaid with precious metals.

Yours,

Which is only for training and practice,

Is rough-hewn and worn from years of use and misuse.

With time,

Kyren assures you,

You may earn a handmade bow of your own.

He commends you on your performance today.

You're happy to hear words of approval after the last week,

And especially from Kyren,

Whom you admire as a teacher,

An incredibly skilled archer,

And,

You think,

Hopefully even a friend.

When you arrived in Thessaly,

You had minimal practice in the art of archery.

But after just a few days in Kyren's tutelage,

You already feel infinitely more comfortable with a bow.

Growing up in the city of Athens,

You heard stories of Kyren,

The centaur trainer of Achilles,

Ajax,

Jason,

And Heracles.

The son of the Titan Cronus and the water-nymph Phileira,

Kyren was said to be taken in to foster by the god Apollo,

Who taught him the arts of medicine,

Music,

Archery,

And herbs.

Kyren earned a wreath of laurels from his foster father,

And he became known as the wisest and justest of the centaurs.

The heroes who trained under him spoke passionately of his warmth and generosity as a teacher,

And they went on to great,

Noble deeds.

So when you came of age,

It became your greatest ambition to study under the venerable Kyren,

So that he might shape you into another great hero for kin and country.

And when the time came,

Kyren welcomed you to his training camp in among the mountains of Thessaly.

You learned upon your arrival that you would be his only pupil for a time.

Then were the days of the Trojan War,

When legions of warriors trained to fight in his camp.

And Kyren himself,

Approaching to greet you at the base of Mount Pelion,

Appeared older than the figure of legends and art,

But no less grand.

The wisps of silver woven through his black hair and the lines around his eyes and forehead all contributed to a first impression of gravitas,

Dignity,

And warmth.

Age comes slowly to the immortals,

If at all,

But with it comes the accumulation of wisdom,

Knowledge,

And experience.

Over the last few days,

You've counted yourself incredibly fortunate for the personal attention of such a master teacher.

Through Kyren's wisdom,

You've begun to understand that these mountains,

In all their towering majesty,

Hold the keys to the secrets of the universe,

From the cosmic to the microcosmic.

Each day,

You awake in the early hours of morning,

Rising before dawn touches the sky with rosy fingers.

Until dusk,

Each day is filled with activity,

The practice of the hunt,

The skills of archery,

And physical training,

But also meditation,

Contemplation,

And philosophy.

In between challenges,

You debate the nature of existence or muse on the precepts of sacred justice.

Decide no suit until you have heard both sides speak,

Kyren advises you,

Urging caution and consideration in matters of law,

Morality,

And equity.

After retrieving your arrow from the oak,

You and Kyren pack up the training gear and head toward home.

Tonight,

There's only a hint of moisture in the air,

And the darkening twilight brings relief from the heat of the day.

You walk for a time in silence,

Tuning in the symphony of cicadas buzzing from the trees.

Kyren's home and your guest quarters lie in the thick,

Deciduous forests of Mount Pelion,

A short hike from the training site.

The path is lined with maple,

Chestnut,

Oak,

And beech trees,

The leaves and branches of which provide generous cover.

You've grown more accustomed to the path in your short time in Kyren's care,

But you're still grateful for his guidance as the light wanes.

Beholding the mountain from below,

You imagine a person could wander the wood for an eternity and never pass the same tree twice.

Kyren breaks the silence as you approach a familiar milestone,

A small lake surrounded by apple and pear trees.

He calls your attention to an apple blossom that has fallen from an overhanging limb and landed delicately on the surface of the water.

He invites you to reflect on the short life of the blossom,

Which flourishes only for a season,

Born of a greater living thing,

The tree,

Then surrenders again to the earth.

Yet even in its fall,

The blossom is graceful.

And in these moments,

As it floats upon the half-lit water,

It transforms into something new.

You watch the flower for a few moments,

Its pale pink petals curling upward against the surface tension of the water.

Another blossom falls,

Momentarily suspended in the air,

Spinning with the sweep of a gentle evening breeze before joining its sister on the surface of the lake.

You ask Kyren if this is not,

In fact,

Disheartening,

The rushing impermanence of beauty,

Life,

And vigor.

Placing a hand on your shoulder,

He comforts you.

There is bitter sweetness in it,

Of course.

But then he reminds you to look at what's reflected in the water,

Shifting your focus,

You can see that the blossoms twirl among the stars in their reflection.

The stars,

Those wandering torches of ancient wisdom and wayfinding,

Welcome the transient blooms into their cosmic dance.

You notice Kyren turning his gaze upward,

Through the clearing of trees,

Away from the rippling copy and toward the starry skies.

You follow his eyeline,

Straight above,

With burning clarity in the deepening darkness,

Are the three bright stars that indicate the belt of Orion,

The great hunter.

In Kyren's skyward eyes,

You can see a sparkle of recognition and perhaps nostalgia.

You suspect he's reminded of his greatest pupil,

Achilles.

You savor the tranquility of the moment,

And you feel privileged to witness such vulnerability in your admired teacher.

Then Kyren notes that the night is upon you.

A silver moon has risen to cast a diaphanous glow over the wood.

But there's no need to fear the darkness in the forests of Mount Pelion.

As you and Kyren return to the path,

You witness the unfurling of night-blossoming jasmine flowers,

Which,

In their nightly spectacle,

Release wisps of effervescent light to illuminate your path.

Cultivated by the goddess Artemis,

The jasmine flowers of the mountain were enchanted to always light the way for Kyren and any who were welcome at his hearth.

With their light comes the rich sweetness of the jasmine's perfume,

Which curves around the whispering breeze.

Kyren tells you that jasmine flowers contain medicinal properties.

They aid in pain relief and relaxation,

And they ease digestion.

In fact,

He asks you to gather a few of the blooms,

So he might make a sav or brew a tea for you to try.

You pluck a handful of blossoms from the vines along the trail,

And each one continues to glow lustrously in your hands.

The fragrance is wild and intoxicating.

You feel as though you could glide upon it like the surface of a starry lake.

Before you,

The vaporous wisps of jasmine light trace a winding way,

And before long,

An orange glow,

Faint and quivering,

Becomes visible at the vanishing point of the path.

A shadow passes before the light,

Briefly blocking it from view,

But it reappears an instant later.

Kyren's wife must be preparing supper,

You think.

Of the chorus of cicadas now comes the laughter of children,

Sweet and musical on the night breeze.

You can see them now,

Three girls and a little boy,

Running in circles in a clearing at the end of the path,

Giddy with laughter,

Lit only by the spill of the glow from inside the home.

A woman's voice escapes the open doorway,

Calling the children in for bed.

One of the girls stops short,

Looking in your direction,

And calls out for her father with glee.

She runs toward you.

Her father scoops her up and kisses her cheek.

She climbs onto his back and throws her arms around his neck as you approach the centaur's home.

Kyren's residence is carved deep into the rocky mountainside itself,

A feat that can only have been accomplished with the strength of gods.

If a wanderer on Mount Pelion were to find their way through the thickets and forests,

Unaided by magical jasmine trails,

They still might not find the abode so expertly obscured by trees and camouflaged by mountain crags.

Kyren's daughter slides from his back and runs into the house after her siblings,

Who've been ushered in by Kyren's wife.

Kariklo,

A graceful nymph,

Greets her husband warmly and welcomes you back from your day of training.

Supper is ready,

She says,

You should help yourself while she puts the children to bed.

You and Kyren enter the open doorway.

Kyren chuckles as he watches the children skip toward their bed chambers deeper in the mountainside.

Create the home being,

For all intents and purposes,

A cave.

It's spacious,

Warm,

And softly lit.

The ceilings are high and the floors softened with beautiful interlocking hand-woven rugs.

In the weaving patterns,

You can make out constellations of stars,

Tessellated nature patterns.

The aroma of thyme and sage floats on a spiral of steam issuing from a large pot on the countertop.

Kyren ladles a serving of soup into two bowls and tears off hunks of crusty bread for each of you.

He says he might take his supper outside tonight to enjoy the fine weather.

If you'd like to join,

He'd welcome the company.

You follow him back out the front door and a few paces away.

Not far from the entrance to Kyren's home is a small pond overlooked by a willow tree.

You take a seat on a rocky formation that springs up from the mountain grass.

Kyren's back launches lower,

Then front legs bend as he settles into a seat on the grass beside you.

The soup is hearty and filling with earthy aromatic herbs and bright citrus flavors that dance across your palate.

You soak up the dregs with the fresh bread from Kodaklo's oven.

After a long day of training,

The meal is wondrously satisfying.

It nourishes and restores you.

Indeed,

In finding stillness,

The day's efforts only now truly sink in.

On your shoulders,

Kyren's herbal salve still tingles and warms the muscles.

A night breeze troubles the delicate tendrils of the willow,

Which sweep gently across the surface of the water.

Night casts a pale blue tint over the scene and the bright white moon itself,

Only a slice short of full,

Reflects,

Distorted in the pond.

You look to Kyren,

Whose eyes are once again bent upward toward the sky.

Off you a sweep of stars and a smear of stardust glitters.

In the centaur's eyes once more,

You perceive the inscrutable emotion with which he beheld the constellation Orion.

What is it that ensnares you so about the stars,

You ask?

Kyren's eyes at first do not move to meet yours,

But remain fixed upon some spot in the sky.

He inhales deeply,

As though preparing to answer your question with great consideration and diligence.

Then he does turn to you,

And he meets your gaze with warmth.

He respects,

Even admires,

Your question.

The stars,

Kyren explains,

Hold great significance to him as an immortal creature living among mortals.

With keen observation and dedicated interest,

One can track the passage of the wandering stars across the sky,

Their position in autumn,

Winter,

Spring,

Summer,

The repetitions and subtle variations in their proximity and brightness.

You can hold the images in your head like frozen memories,

Mapping the night sky across years and decades,

Learning the hidden secrets of the celestial bodies.

But as life goes on and on and on,

You may forget a position or a scale of brightness or a season's worth of discovery.

The stars and the mountains and the waters that run deep under the earth go on,

Longer than lifetimes and generations.

Only the stars can comprehend immortality,

Which makes life seem at once immeasurably long and blindingly brief.

In the patterns of the wandering stars,

Many have seen the shapes of bears,

Serpents,

And men,

Heroes,

Friends,

Loved ones of Kyren's.

You think again of Achilles,

The great hero of Troy,

Who was like a sun to the centaur and fell tragically in battle.

Kyren's eyes are sparkling again,

A bitter sweet smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

You thank him for the sincere answer.

From here,

The stardust appears like a swath of paint across the unending darkness,

Or a bridge connecting impossible worlds.

It shines with the same luminosity of the fragrant forest jasmines,

Whose scent you can still detect upon the breeze.

Kataklo comes out of the house to join you,

And you thank her for the excellent supper.

The children are asleep and she's exhausted,

But the pleasant breezes and sweet moonlight have coaxed her to her husband's side.

The three of you drink in the quiet,

Redolence of the night.

The willow boughs drift lazily over the water.

The chorus of cicadas hum in sweeping crescendos and decrescendos.

Orion's belt and the Milky Way glimmer above your heads.

After several minutes of pleasant conversation and quiet contemplation,

The centaur and his wife retire to the residence for sleep.

Kyren reminds you that tomorrow you will begin lessons in music and poetry,

Along with continuance of your archery training.

You announce that you'll head for bed shortly,

After just a little more time in the sweet night air.

Alone beside the willow tree,

You look to the sky.

You note the brightness and position of the three shining stars of Orion's belt.

Holding a hand toward the sky and squinting with one eye,

You mentally mark the spatial relationships between the familiar stars and another pattern to the east,

Beginning to map the cosmos in your mind.

You think of the twirling apple blossoms on the water and how the very distant things in the heavens and the very near on earth share so much.

How the patterns in the skies are repeated and iterated here on the ground.

How the stories of earthly men and beasts are repeated and iterated amid the stardust.

To be immortalized among the stars.

Such an honor as only Heracles,

Perseus,

And the mightiest men achieve.

Until tonight,

You dreamt of one day climbing the ladder of night to join the star-bright champions.

But Chiron's eyes,

So genuine and full,

He who has lived a lifetime countless times over,

Gave you much to consider.

You might have scoffed days ago at the notion of spending time with music and poetry when you aspired to be a new Achilles.

Now,

However,

You feel moved by the sublime beauty of the night skies,

The sadness and triumph in the star's constant march.

Fire swells in your chest,

But not for the hunt or the fight.

You yearn to find language or art to express the glitter of Chiron's eyes.

The fullness,

The abundance of feeling therein,

The exquisite irony of what was held within him,

Sadness,

Longing,

Pride,

Pleasure,

Regret,

Contentment,

And a twinkling reflection of the moon and stars.

The hypnotic sway of the willow,

The ebbing cicada song,

And the opulent musk of the jasmine combine to create a sensory lullaby.

When you're ready,

You stand and return to Chiron's abode.

You make your way to the guest chambers in the dark,

Carrying the plucked jasmine blossoms like the glowing torch.

The light has a golden edge that pulses and radiates in your hand.

When you reach your chamber,

The hand-woven blankets dyed a rich moss green look especially inviting.

You slide between them,

Feeling the muscles of your shoulders instantly relax into the bed.

Something seems to have lifted from them like a great weight just as a result of this evening's walk and conversation.

You feel lighter than you ever have,

Unburdened by pressure or expectation.

It's perfectly quiet in the room and perfectly dark.

But when you close your eyes,

The afterimage of stars and stardust lingers until long after you've settled into the embrace of the god of dreams.

You feel lighter than you ever have,

Unburdened by pressure or expectation.

In your mind,

See the Milky Way,

A smear of stardust.

A bridge,

A ladder,

A density of stars so thick it coalesces into sparkling effervescence.

Light on the contrast between light and dark,

Star and sky,

Fire and vacuum.

Pull an individual star from the Milky Haze.

Pull another and another.

Face those stars alone against a backdrop of night sky like diamonds against black velvet.

Now disturb the black sky and watch it ripple like water,

The reflection of stars and sky in the bodies of water,

Here on earth,

On your level.

Feel your body against your sleep surface,

Grounded,

Material,

Earthbound,

But also skyward.

Your body,

Your surroundings share the same universe,

The same principles,

The same obeisance to gravity as the wandering stars.

Hold these ideas simultaneously,

Your earthliness and your stellar nature,

Your material body and your astral one.

Feel yourself grounded and buoyant.

What does that feel like in your body?

What sensations do you feel?

Bring focused attention to your right hand,

The fingers and the palm.

Feel both grounded and buoyant in your right hand.

Now extend the sensation to the whole right arm.

Relax the right arm into your sleep surface and at the same time release it to drift.

Bring the sensation to the right shoulder and across the chest to the left shoulder and the left arm.

Let the left arm sink into the surface and float.

Extend the sensation and awareness to the left hand,

The palm and the fingers.

Bring the sensation of groundedness and buoyancy to the ribs,

The belly and the back,

The whole core of your body,

To the hip points and the tailbone,

Your sacrum grounding you to the earth while a current of energy reaches skyward.

Extend the sensation to the right leg,

Letting the opposing currents of energy course through the thigh,

The knee,

The shin and the calf.

Feel grounded and buoyant in the right foot,

The heel grounding you to the earth,

The toes reaching skyward.

Bring attention and sensation to the left leg,

The energy constant and current grounding you through the thigh,

The knee,

The calf and the shin,

Settling earthbound,

Reaching skyward.

Feel grounded and buoyant in the left foot,

The heel and the toes.

Let your heart be open.

Embrace the safety and sturdiness of the earth,

The slow movement of mountains and ripples of water with depths unknown and unknowable.

Meanwhile,

Unfurl yourself to the boundless skies.

Release yourself to the gravitational pull of stars and heavenly bodies.

You are enough.

You are made of the earth and the boundless sea and the stars and star dust,

The moon and sun and the endless,

Sweeping skies.

Good night.

Reviews

This is another wonderful story with a great reading giving me a good night's sleep.

❤️

Lovely voice and music. I slept and will listen again to notice the story lol. Thank you

Love this! Thank you

Lovely. Centaur is one of my guides and this tale helped to reconnect me to him! 🙏🏼

Helps distract me from my busy brain, and also from falling back to sleep into the nightmares that wake me.