Welcome to.
.
.
Soothe quietly.
I'm so glad.
You are here tonight.
Find a comfortable position.
N.
Let your body settle gently beneath you.
Relax your shoulders.
Release any tension in your jaw.
Soften the muscles.
Around your eyes and brow.
Take a slow breath in through your nose.
And breathe out through your mouth.
With each steady breath.
The sounds of your day.
Begin to fade.
Quietly.
Into the background There is nowhere else you need to be denied.
Now let yourself drift softly into tonight's story.
Tonight.
We step softly.
To the broad water in the southeastern gardens of Chong An.
3Ds.
Before their Dragon Boat Festival.
The 5th day of the 5th lunar calendar.
Nihili 1,
300 years ago.
At the height of the Tang Dynasty.
It is the hour before sunrise.
The wood around the lake.
In the southeastern garden is still and quiet.
The paths through the gardens are empty.
Chang'an City remains under curfew.
With the ward gates still closed.
Until the morning drums begin to echo.
From the center of Chang'an.
The eastern sky is only beginning to pale beyond the low rooftops.
And the dark shapes of the cypress trees.
Along the garden wall.
No far from the door.
A lone figure walks quietly along the leg side path.
He carries a small lantern and moves with the unhurried pace of someone.
Who has made this journey many times before.
Ahead of him,
A familiar shape rests beside the water.
Waiting in the darkness.
For a little while longer before the city wakes.
He has the whole lake and the boat to himself.
The lake lies calm and white.
It's half face.
It's a shallow grey mirror.
The distant pavilions.
Along the far shore.
Only faint shapes.
In the Alita.
The air is warm with the season.
Heavy and still.
Carrying the faint smell of damp earth.
And the lotus beds.
Somewhere in the dark.
At the center of the pool.
A narrow dog reach out from the bank.
Beside it.
That Dragon Boat waits.
Tied with two ropes to the dog pose.
Is painted whole.
Dark in the lamplight.
He is the boatman who cares for this official dragon boat vessel.
His hands have known its rope and its wooden grain for many years.
He loosened the knot slowly.
Through the quiet hours of the night.
Two robes have held the bow.
Beside the dog.
One at each end.
His fingers walk through each knoll with care.
The fiber.
And slightly damp from the night air.
He hangs his lantern on the dog pose.
Its amber light falls across the dog plants and across the side of the boat.
Picking out the curve of the painted skulls.
Along the whole.
The bow makes the smallest movement.
When the last rope is free.
A soft shift against the wood of the door.
The sound of water.
Sliding along a hole.
The pull,
Receive it gently.
He quails the rope end.
Place them on the dock.
The Dragon Ball floats free for the first time this season.
Swing just slightly in the still water.
He steps into the boat.
Finds his footing.
On the whole plank.
End.
Reach for the petal.
He plays both palms against the dog pose and push gently.
The whole slide away from the dog with a slow,
Smooth motion.
And the dark water opens around it.
The paddle slips into the water with almost no sound.
The mist holds close to the surface.
And the ripples behind the ball fade gently into it.
He rose with a patient rhythm.
A long reach forward.
A gentle pull.
A pause while the boat floats between strokes.
Each pull sends a narrow ripple across the still water.
And the mist closed behind it as if nothing has passed.
The petal moves through the water with an even familiar resistance.
The whole finds its balance with each stroke.
Settling into the surface of the pool.
He rose without hurrying.
The strokes coming one after another in the quiet dark.
The lantern on the dog.
Grows smaller behind him.
Its reflection stretches across the pool's surface.
A thin amber line that wavers once and then holds still.
Near the center of the pool.
He lets the petal rest.
Across the rim of the boat.
The lotus leaves are close.
Their round shapes rest flat on the surface.
Dark ring disc.
Each one of them.
Still and heavy with the morning damp.
Arrange your loose cluster.
That they miss often.
Into something quiet and still.
The bowl drift gently among them.
The leaf part just enough to let the hole pass.
Then,
Settle back.
He does not peddle.
The bow moves slowly off its own remaining momentum.
Turning a little as it goes.
The mist is very close here at the center of the pool.
It rests just above the water.
Softer than early light.
The Garden A.
The far bank has disappeared into it.
The dark lantern is only a faint warm blur behind him.
The lotus leaf.
Rest on the water all around the boat.
Not a single one move.
Who has been silenced.
But now?
Something shift.
At its edges.
A waterbed calls once.
From the far reed bed.
A single low note.
Lingering for a moment.
And then is quiet again.
Nia the Western Bang.
A long lag waterbed.
Stands in the shallow.
One leg raise.
Perfectly still.
It has been there since before he arrived.
As the grey morning light.
Slowly increases A loris is food and.
.
.
Takes one step through the water.
Then become stills once more.
The fish beneath the surface begin to move.
He can see the faint disturbance.
Just below the lotus leaf.
Is slow turning.
Adapt,
Beginning to wait.
The pool is still.
The water is waking in its own slow way.
He lets the boat drift to a full stop.
The petal rests across the seeds.
The dragon ball sits at the center of the pool.
The mist wrapping around its whole.
The dark water perfectly flat on all sides.
There is no win.
The mist holds the boat.
As if the pool has taken it in.
From here,
The dark lantern is only a faint warm point in the grey.
The shore is a soft line of trees and rooftops on all sides.
All of it equally distant.
All of it equally still.
He sits with his hands on his knee.
The mist is very close.
It rests just above the water.
Moving only with the bow's slightest turning.
The pool holds the silence completely.
Only sounds.
Are the faint creak of the hall.
And the soft,
Slow sound of water.
Against the front of the boat.
As this whole is placed.
The Chang'an eastern sky.
Brighten slowly.
A thin wash of pale grey appears above the Chang'an city walls.
Than a faint line of blue behind it.
And then.
.
.
Very gradually.
A wonk.
At the horizon.
That has no name for its color yet.
Only the sense of light.
Arriving from somewhere.
Far beyond the rooftop.
First.
The tiles at the top of the pavilion roof.
Take on a faint shape.
Against the sky.
Than the eave of the nearer shore buildings.
Separate from the dark behind them.
The willow branches.
Along the bank.
Become.
Distinct outlines.
They are long lines dropping towards the water.
The mist thins as the light increases.
The surface of the pool catches the new brightness and hold it.
A pale diffuse glow spreading outward from the eastern bank.
Towards the centre of the lake.
With a bold rest.
From the city centre.
The low beat of the morning drums.
Begins to travel.
Across the wards of Chang'an.
A distinct.
Rhythmic signal.
That The gates will soon open.
Chang'an city wakes as one body.
Slowly.
The pool remain still and gentle in its own time.
The rhythm of the return.
Is the same as before.
Long and even.
And calm.
The bow turns slowly.
The trail of ripples behind it crosses the faint path it made before.
And the thinning mist.
Closes over them again.
Little by little.
The shore grows closer.
The lamb and the dog.
Becoming more distinct.
As the bow draws near.
A small warm flame.
Still burning steadily in the brightening morning.
The morning light.
Has reached the whole.
The painted scales along the side.
Catch it as a faint gloss.
At the front of the boat.
The dragon head faces the shore and its eye forwards.
He paddles without hurrying.
Each stroke.
Is the same as the loss.
The petal enters the water and glides through it.
Let the pull receive it without resistance.
The dog is close.
The robes rest where he left them on the door.
He guides the boat.
Alongside the dog.
The dragon head,
Slide gently past the pose.
He reaches out and holds the hall steady against the wood.
One row is tied at the front of the boat.
Than the other at the back.
Soon,
The boat is secure beside the dog once more.
It rests beside the same dog.
And the same two poles where it spent the night.
The morning light falls across the hall now.
The liquor catching the pure oily color of the sky.
The scales bright where the lantern had made them dim.
He lifted the lamp from its hook.
For a moment.
He stands at the end of the door.
The pool behind him,
Wide and still.
The mist has thinned too.
Almost nothing.
The far bank is visible.
The pavilion roof lines.
The line of willow trees.
The water,
Flat and pale.
Beneath the morning.
The bull rests gently at the dog once more.
Three days remain before the Dragon Boat Festival.
The pool is calm and the morning has fully arrived.
And so the boatman walks back along the dock post.
As the first light of morning spread quietly.
Across the womb in the southeastern gardens of Chang'an.
The dragon ball is tied and still at the dog behind him.
Its hall,
Carrying the pale reflection of the early sky.
The ropes,
Firm at the poles.
The mist lifting from the surface of the pool as the ward of Chang'an slowly wakes.
The pool is wide and calm.
The willow branches still.
The lotus leaf beginning to open.
In the new warmth of the morning.
The Dragon Ball Festival is still three days away.
The water lies calm beneath the growing life.
The world we visited tonight grows quiet now.
N.
You can simply rest here.
Comfortable and at ease.
Your mind can relax.
Your body can soften.
If you are already drifting into sleep.
Allow yourself to sink a little deeper.
If you are still awake.
Listen to the quiet.
There is nothing more to do.
Nowhere else to be.
I'll be here whenever you need another peaceful moment like this.
Bye for now.
Rest gently.
And.
.
.
Sleep well.
Goodnight.
