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 back.
More than 1300 years.
Into Chang'an.
At the height of the Tang Dynasty.
It is dusk.
On the 15th night.
Of the 8-month lunar calendar.
The night of the mid-autumn moon.
Just beyond the southern walls of the city.
The second daughter of the Pea family.
Has come to their country estate.
As she has done.
Many times before.
To spend the evening in a garden pavilion.
Waiting for the autumn moon to rise.
The family main residence is located in the eastern part of Chang'an.
Not far from the Eastern Market.
And the imperial city.
Although close to the market.
The residence itself.
Is tucked away.
In a quieter part of the city.
Away from the busiest lane.
Their country stay.
Sits just beyond Chang'an's southern walls.
With the streets and houses.
Give way to.
.
.
And fumes.
The land begins to rise.
Slowly towards the distant Jonan Mountains.
Still farther off and blue at this hour.
The country estate's main house.
And its other cordia buildings.
Rest in the blue evening air.
THE KITCHEN the staples.
The attendance quarters.
All of them.
Quiet,
Early in the evening.
The garden lies among them.
The curved branches of an old pear tree.
A lake.
A group of bamboo along the far side.
It's narrow leave.
Just beginning to stir.
Above the garden.
Reach by an inner stay.
Stands the upper pavilion.
A spacious,
Airy room.
Open on all sides.
Raise one story above the ground.
Its wooden poles have weathered.
To a pilgrim.
It's reeling.
It's smooth.
Beneath the hands.
Woven mats over the floorboards.
Soft and a food.
It is the finest place on the estate.
For looking out.
Over the countryside.
Open to the evening air.
N.
With a wide sweeping view.
Towards the southern hills.
From here.
The whole garden.
Including the lake.
Lines visible below.
Beyond the garden are more trees.
Scattered country estates.
And smaller houses set among the green.
All quieter and more spacious.
Than the crowded streets of Chang'an.
Far beyond them,
The land rises gently.
Towards the distant Jonan Mountains.
Still blue.
In the fading light.
Above it all.
The evening sky.
Stretches wide and clear.
Half-father a vice-minister for Ministry of Rights?
Left Alia in the day.
With the other members of the household.
Hamada.
An elder sister among them.
Attendants carrying lanterns ahead of them.
They have gone towards Cho Ching Lake.
Southeast of Chang'an where Chang'an people would gather this evening.
To sit by the water.
And watch the full moon of mid-autumn rise.
The second daughter has chosen to remain behind.
Her grandmother,
Which heart it plays at night.
Beneath the mid-autumn moon.
And want to rest.
In the main house.
Before the light has gone from the sky.
No one else.
Would come up to the pavilion tonight.
She climbs the stairs.
Carrying a small lamp with its wick trimmed low.
A tree has already been brought up for her.
And please On a low table,
Near the reeling.
A ceramic wine jar.
A single cup.
A small fruit ball.
Filled with peas and dark grapes.
A small plate of wheat cakes.
Lightly sweetened with honey.
A handful of walnuts in their shells.
Beside the tree.
A slender,
Handwritten scroll of poems away.
Its paper edges,
Solve with handling.
She placed the lamp down.
Behind her cushion.
The lamp's small flame.
Will not stand between her and tonight's sky.
She settles on the mat.
Looking out.
Over the garden.
The lake.
The trees.
Other estates.
And the distant Jonan Mountains.
And the far sky.
She finds the view from here.
Very calming and beautiful.
She settles comfortably against her cushion.
And looks out over the garden and the lake.
The evening,
Is slowly giving way to dusk.
Below.
The trees,
Stand around the leg.
Beyond the garden and the lake.
She can see other estates.
And smaller houses.
Scattered.
Among the greenery.
Father still.
The distant mountains.
Are fading.
Into the last pale light of the sky.
She takes a small sip of wine.
And that's how I wander across the view again.
Taking in the quiet garden.
And the wild countryside beyond it.
After a while.
She reached for a grape.
Then another.
Eating slowly.
And silvering each one.
The wheat cakes are lightly sweetened with honey.
She takes one small bite.
Before settling back against her cushion.
After that,
She cracks a walnut open and eats it slowly.
Then takes another sip of wine.
The simple taste of the wine and walnut please her.
She finds herself smiling.
As she looks out across the darkening hills and the distant Jonan Mountains.
This is the kind of peace.
She could only find here.
Far from the family's residence in Chang'an.
A breeze moved through the pavilion.
Lifting the edge of the tablecloth.
And cooling the back of her hands.
Somewhere below in the garden.
The first crickets of the evening.
Begin their study calling.
Among the bamboo.
Along the far wall.
For a while.
She simply looks out.
Listens to the breeze moving through the bamboo.
Waiting for the full moon to rise.
She remains against her cushion.
As the last light,
Slowly leave the sky.
Above the distant Jonan Mountains.
The blue deepens into soft grey.
The first stars.
Begin to appear.
Between thin drifting clouds.
The trees below.
Become darker.
Their shapes.
Blending Gently into nine.
While the roof of the other estates can still be seen faintly among them.
She takes another sip of wine.
And continue watching the view.
Noticing How different everything seems.
As the night grows.
A door closed somewhere in the house near the kitchen.
Four steps cross the gravel path.
Then fade away.
After that,
There is no more movement nearby.
The pavilion is quiet.
The small lamp beside her.
Giving a steady lie.
While the garden slips into darkness.
She looks towards the eastern sky.
Noun Talk.
And clear above the trees.
The moon should not be far away now.
She draws the scroll towards her.
And unrolls it slowly across her knees.
The poems have been copied out by hand.
She reads only a little at a time.
Pausing now and then.
To look up at the sky.
The poem she has chosen tonight.
Is by a town court minister.
Her father still speaks of.
It is about looking at the moon.
And thinking of someone far away.
She reads the two lines quietly to herself.
Or what I see.
The bright moon rises.
At the ends of the earth.
We share this moment.
She reads the two lines twice.
Letting the verse linger in her mind.
Before rolling the scroll close.
And placing it beside her.
For a moment.
She simply looks out into the darkness.
The garden is now mostly in a shadow.
The sky above it.
Has become deeper and clearer.
She turns her eyes towards the eastern horizon and waits.
The moon should be rising soon.
She watched the mid-autumn full moon slowly climb above the dark edge of the mountain.
At first,
Only a bright curve can be seen.
But little by little.
More of the moon rises.
And to all.
It hangs fully above the countryside.
It's life.
Reaches their estate gradually.
Touching the tops of the trees.
The roof tiles below.
The pure gravel of the garden path.
And the still surface of the lake.
She leans back against her cushion.
And watch.
Taking in their family or garden.
As it changes.
Beneath the Moonlight.
The breeze has grown cooler now.
That full night has settled in.
Carrying the faint green scent of the garden.
The cool sand of the lake below.
And a trace of wood smoke from the kitchen fire.
Beam back for the night.
Beyond the lake and garden.
The other estates and small houses.
Are nestled among the trees.
Their dark roof.
Faintly visible.
In the full moon light.
Here and there.
A few small lanterns.
Glow among the trees.
Quiet points of life.
Scattered across the countryside.
She feels content here.
The night is quiet.
The whole countryside.
Seems to open beneath the moon.
The crickets continue among the bamboo.
They are calling,
Carrying through the air.
She looks beyond the garden again.
This time.
She does not study the house or the hills.
She simply let her eye rest on the darkness between the trees.
On the faint lanterns in the distance.
N.
On the white sky.
Above them.
Everything seems.
Peaceful and subtle.
As though.
.
.
The whole estate has slowed as the night deepens.
She takes another sip of wine.
And rest the cup beside her.
The breeze.
Pass gently through the pavilion.
And then fall still again.
She leans back against her cushion.
Listening to the crickets.
And the occasional rustle of bamboo leaf.
For a long while.
She does nothing at all.
There is no need to.
She is simply happy to sit here.
And enjoying the quiet.
The wire in the small lamp is burning low now its flame.
Smaller than before.
She does not refill it.
There is little need.
Moonlight.
Fills the pavilion.
The table.
The wine cup.
Folded scroll and her hands resting in her lap.
She leans back against the cushion.
And looks out over the countryside.
Where the trees,
Houses.
And distant estates.
Are all touched by the same mid-autumn full moon light.
The breeze has almost disappeared.
Only now and then.
Does it start a leaf?
In the garden.
Or move the edge of the tablecloth.
That crickets continue below.
Patient and steady.
Among the bamboo.
Far beyond the garden and lake.
The mountains.
Are only faint shapes.
Beneath the white sky.
She takes one last sip of wine and puts the cup down.
And remains where she is.
Watching the full moon in silence.
She does not think of.
Returning to the main house yet.
There is nowhere else.
She would rather I be tonight.
And so the second daughter of this aristocratic Pei family remains beneath their mid-autumn full moon.
Resting quietly.
Against her cushion in the open pavilion.
The garden.
And main house lie peaceful below her.
The distant estates are also quiet amongst the tree.
The moon shines over the lake,
The fields.
And the far distant mountains.
While the white sky stretches above them.
She has always loved.
Coming to this estate.
At this time of the year.
For as long as she can remember.
Every 15 nights.
Of the 8th month of lunar calendar.
When the autumn moon is full.
And the air begins to turn cool.
She finds herself wanting to be here again.
Away from Chang'an.
This year is no different.
She smiled softly to herself.
Already knowing that.
When autumn comes around again next year.
She will return to this same pavilion.
And watch the moon rise once more.
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.
Good night.
