Welcome to.
.
.
Sue 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 quietly back.
Nearly.
1,
300 years ago into Chang'an.
At the height of the Tang Dynasty.
It is a spring night in a ward.
On the eastern side of Chang'an.
After the gates have closed.
And the evening drum has faded.
A lantern attendant begins his round.
Beneath the rain.
Moving from lantern to lantern.
To tan each small flame beneath the dripping eve.
The evening drum has already sounded from within the capital.
Its last echo have drifted away.
Leaving only rain on roof tiles.
Water moving through stone drains.
And the quiet creek of close gates.
The world gate stands tall and dark.
Rain glistens on its iron pants and runs down the weathered timber.
Beside the gate.
A small gatehouse glows softly beneath the eave.
Beyond it,
Chang'an is sealed into night-time order.
The lantern attendant steps out from the gatehouse into the rain.
He adjusts his woven bamboo rain hat.
Over his robe,
He wears a straw rain cape.
Hose layer of fiber,
Catch water and release it in slow beats.
In one hand.
He carries a small flask of lamp oil.
Wrap in cloth.
At his belt hung a small iron pick for trimming wicks.
A cloth for wiping the lamps.
And a small ember tube for relightening lamps.
On his shoulder.
Rest a long bamboo pole.
Tip with a small iron hook for lowering lanterns hanging beyond arm's reach.
Somewhere beyond the next lane.
Wouldn't watch Klappa's song through the night.
Two notes.
A pause.
Two notes again.
He breathed in the rain.
The lantern beside the ward gate waits where it always has.
Casting a small amber circle onto the whetstones.
He walks towards it.
The lantern hangs from a short wooden bracket beside the gate passage.
Its small window has grown cloudy with smoke.
And the night's damp air.
He rests that bamboo pole against the wall and opens the small lantern door.
Inside.
The wick has burned low.
Its tip curled gently to one side.
With a small iron tool,
He straightens the edge and Adds a little lamp while.
For a moment.
He watched the oil soak into the wick.
Then he shields the opening with his sleeve.
The flame does not leave.
It gathers itself.
A warm amber glow appears at the tip of the wig.
Then spreads until the little lantern window glows half and even.
Above him.
Rainwater gathers beneath the curved roof tiles.
Before falling into the same shallow hollow in the paving stone below.
One droll.
Than another.
The little rings widen and disappear.
Rain on the year.
Warm light behind the lantern window.
The lane quiet once more.
He lifted that bamboo pole onto his shoulder.
And walks farther into the sleepy ward.
The lane widens into a crossing.
Where three narrow streets meet.
One leads between sleeping compounds.
And Nada.
Continue towards the Eastern Market War.
The third follows the world's inner wall.
Where rain has darkened.
The pale plaster near the ground.
A lantern hangs at each corner.
Each casting its own small circle of amber.
Onto the rain dark stone.
The first lantern.
Needs only is little window wiped clear of smoke.
At the second,
He adds a little lamp while.
At the third.
Rain has found a narrow gap.
Above the frame.
He turns the lantern slightly.
So the rain no longer reaches the opening.
Around each lantern.
A warm circle.
Settles onto the whetstone.
Leaving darkness between them.
Somewhere behind a compound wall.
A wooden shutter slides open a little.
Warm lamplight spills briefly onto the wet stones.
Before the shutter closes again.
North Wise follows.
Only rain.
And the distant watch clappers fading into the mist.
The tight lane narrows beneath long overhanging eave.
Here,
The rain sounds farther away.
Though it lingers on every surface.
Damp beans.
Shining Ledges.
And the dark seams between the paving stones.
Using the hook,
He lowers a lantern,
Hanging beneath the eave.
The wig has broadened slightly at the tip.
He dreams it.
Then,
Let the flame settle.
Into a steady glow.
For a while.
There is no need for his hands.
An empty bench sits in a shallow alcove beneath the eave.
Its wooden seat darkened by many seasons of rain.
Beyond the shelter.
Water slipped from their roof in a slow steady rhythm.
Roof drip.
Water on stone.
Rain slipping from the straw cake.
Miss often the far end of the lane.
Until the plaster walls seemed to withdraw into sleep.
After another quiet moment beneath the eve.
He continues towards the inner wall.
The wood wall stretches pale and long.
Patch where the old plaster has been repaired.
Most darkens the lower stone.
Until the base of the wall looks almost green-black in the lantern light.
Here.
The lanterns stand farther apart.
Each keeping its own circle of life.
He opens the first lantern and finds the weak.
Beginning to split at the tip.
A small adjustment is enough for this one.
The next needs only a glance.
Is flame,
Burns low and steady.
Beneath the little roof that keeps the rain away.
Below the wall.
Rainwater gathers in the shallow channel and slip towards the drain at the corner.
A few fallen leaves,
10 there.
Held for a moment.
Before the current carries them onwards.
The rain moved gently from tile to wall.
From wall to stone.
From stone into the narrow channel.
Nothing disturbs this rhythm.
Lantern by lantern.
The first part of Ram brings the lantern attendant.
Back to the small gate house beside the ward gate.
By the time he returns to the gatehouse.
The night has settled deeply over this ward.
A small brazier glows beneath its bed of ash.
The ward gate official has stepped away to inspect the gate.
Leaving a kettle warming beside the coals.
The Lantern Attendant.
Warms a clay cup in.
Breaks a tea cake into the warm water.
Steam rises slowly.
Carrying the scent of toasted leaf.
Damn Timber!
And a trace of cold smoke.
He drinks in slow sip.
While the rain keeps its rhythm beyond the gatehouse.
Nothing asks for his attention.
He has always found these few quiet moments beside the brazier comforting.
Warm cup.
Cool rain.
Embellished on wet paving.
When the tea is finished,
He resumes his realm.
The night deepens.
As he follows the familiar lanes once more.
Rain no longer splashes.
It gathers beneath the eve.
Fall softly in.
Disappears into the darkness below.
Mist settles lower until the lantern circles soften against the wet stones.
Very little needs his attention now.
Most lanterns burn steadily.
His walk has become mostly observation.
Hours pass almost unnoticed.
The rain grows lighter.
Knee at the eastern market wall.
The air carries soaked earth,
Wet timber,
And fading scent of yesterday's fire.
He continues his family around beneath the lanterns.
Each burning with a calm,
Steady light.
Near the drain.
Water sleep.
Around a smooth pebble before finding the channel again.
Far across the sleeping Chang'an city,
A distant night signal.
Drifts softly through the rain.
The familial lanes slowly bring him back towards the ward gate.
Before dawn,
The lantern attendant returns to the ward gate once more.
The small gatehouse waits beneath the eave.
Each breath here.
Still holding a gentle warmth beneath the ash.
The ward gay official stands outside.
Listening towards the sleeping city beyond the closed gate.
Neither man speaks.
They have shared many rainy nights like this one before.
Then,
At last,
The first morning drum signal carries softly across Chang'an.
The lantern attendant.
Rest the bamboo pole beside the gatehouse door.
The 9th round is finished.
Around the ward.
The lanterns.
Still burn with the calm steady light.
That has carried them.
Safely through the night.
Somewhere beyond the walls,
The birds begin to call beneath the rain.
Another spring night has gently passed.
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.
