Welcome.
Only listen to this session when you're safe to deeply relax,
Rest,
And fall asleep.
And because this session is designed to loop,
There's no need to wait for an ending.
There's no need to stay awake to hear the whole thing.
The words will continue softly.
The rhythm will continue gently.
And this session begins again.
Well,
That's perfectly fine.
You may hear the beginning again from a deeper place.
You may notice only pieces of the words.
Or you may drift so deeply that the sound becomes something far away.
Like winds through trees.
Like water moving in the dark.
Like a lantern glowing beneath the surface of a quiet lake.
So now,
Allow yourself to settle.
Nothing more is needed from you.
Nothing has to be solved tonight.
Nothing has to be held tightly.
You've done enough for one day.
And even if the mind believes,
There's more to think about.
The body already knows how to sleep.
The deeper part of you already knows how to let go.
So,
Let the body begin.
Let the surface of the day grow still.
Let the room around you become soft and distant.
And allow your attention to rest gently on the simple fact that you're here.
Breathing,
Listening,
Resting.
And beginning to drift.
Take a slow breath in.
And then let it go.
And another easy breath in.
And let it leave you.
Not forced,
Not perfect,
Just natural.
Like a tide finding its own rhythm.
Breathing in.
And then softening out.
Breathing in.
And letting the day move further away.
You don't need to make anything happen.
You are simply creating the conditions.
So it is.
Stillness.
Permission.
And then sleep comes in its own way.
Quietly,
Naturally.
Almost secretly.
Like a visitor who arrives only when the house has gone silent.
Some of the house goes silent now.
The body become heavy.
Let the thoughts grow even slower.
And as you listen,
You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world that there's a lake.
A deep,
Dark,
And peaceful lake.
No,
Not Friday.
Not at all.
But ain't ya?
Still.
Protected.
A lake hidden in a valley no map has ever shown.
The sky above is filled with soft night.
The stones are faint and silver.
The air is calm.
And at the edge of the lake,
There's a small wooden dock.
Roar.
Smooth and weathered by time.
And you're standing there now in the quiet of this inner place barely needing them up.
Barely needing to think.
Just noticing the still water before you.
Is somewhere deep beneath the surface.
A small golden lantern is glowing.
Very faint at first,
A single point of warm light.
And still the lake itself has a heart.
As though something peaceful below the surface has been waiting for you not calling loudly.
Not demanding anything.
Just glowing wildly impatiently.
And you understand in that deep dreaming way.
This lantern is not something you need to reach with effort.
Is simply where your awareness is going.
Downward.
Naturally into rest.
In this way.
Into the quiet beneath the quiet.
So,
Take another slow breath in.
And as you breathe out,
Feel your forehead soften.
The tiny muscles around the eyes relaxing the eyes resting in their sockets.
The eyelids becoming heavier heavier and heavier.
As if they're made for sleep now.
So that y'all live safe.
Eh,
A dumb rest.
Let the throat soften.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to explain.
Nothing to defend.
The face can stop being a face for the world.
And can simply become soft.
Private,
Unwatched and at rest.
So long as the shoulders drop.
Even just a little,
As if some invisible wave slides away from them.
Of the arms become loose.
Of her arms heavy.
Oh no,
It's heavy.
Forearms heavy.
Wrists are loose.
Hands are quiet.
Fingers are soft.
The humans don't need to hold the day anymore.
They can release it.
So let the chest soften.
Let the breath move without being watched too closely.
And let the belly arise and fall in its own time.
No control is needed.
The body knows.
The body has always known.
So let the back sink down.
Hop her back.
Lower back.
All of the giving way into support.
So that their heads become heavy.
When the legs become heavy.
Thighs are softening.
MI SAVANE.
Have Sahana.
Ankles are loose Feet are quiet.
Toes are resting.
The whole body now becoming more like the lake.
Still on the surface,
Deep underneath.
And somewhere below the lantern of love.
You may imagine now that you step slowly from the dock into a small wooden boat.
Is waiting for you.
Simple and safe.
Rocking almost imperceptibly on the still water.
There is no rush.
The boat knows the way.
And doesn't need ours.
It doesn't need effort.
It begins to move only when you're ready.
And as you settle into it,
You notice how perfectly it holds you.
The wood is warm.
The night is soft.
The water is silent.
And the bone begins to drift away from the dock,
Slowly,
Smoothly,
Carrying you toward the center of the lake.
And with every breath the shore becomes less important.
And with every breath,
The day becomes less real.
And with every breath the world of names and cloths and duties grows even dimmer behind you.
The boat glides forward.
And the lake reflects the stars and above you,
Stars.
And below you is stars and all around you,
Darkness and light.
And you're floating between worlds now between waking and dreaming.
Between thought and silence.
Between the surface and the deep.
There is nothing to do.
The bone moves by itself.
And the lantern below the water grows a little brighter.
Still saw,
Still distant,
But clearer now.
A warm golden glow beneath the dark glass of the lake.
And as the bow reaches the center of the water.
And becomes very still.
Perfectly still.
So still that it feels like the whole universe is holding its breath.
No,
Not tense.
Not waiting.
Just silent.
And in that silence,
You notice a spiral staircase appearing beneath the surface.
Now not made of stone.
None eight of what?
Remain of dim golden light.
A staircase descending into the lake.
Down toward the lantern.
And somehow.
In this dream-like place.
You understand that you can descend without effort.
You don't need to swim.
You don't need to hold your breath.
You simply follow the light.
Because this is not ordinary water.
This is the water of sleep.
The water of the deeper mind.
The water that carries you away from noise and back into the old peace beneath everything.
Now,
In a moment,
I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number,
You can drift deeper.
Not because you're drying.
But because the body enjoys letting go.
The mind enjoys being relieved of duty.
And the deeper self knows the path.
Some time.
The bow fades behind you.
9.
The surface of the lake grows far above.
Eh?
You begin to descend the glowing stair.
7,
Each step softer than the one before.
Six,
The body is heavier,
The mind is quieter.
I'm half way down now.
Drifting beneath us.
The water around you is warm,
Dark,
And peaceful.
3.
The lantern brighter below.
Two.
Almost there now.
Yeah,
I don't know why.
Deep and quiet and safe.
Now you're standing at the bottom of the lake.
But there's no pressure here.
No cold.
No fear.
Only a vast and gentle stillness.
A world beneath the world.
The lake floor is smooth and dark,
Like a polished stone.
Tiny points of light move slowly around you like sleepy fireflies underwater and ahead of you sits the lantern,
Small,
Woven,
Ancient,
Resting on a flat stone.
Its flame doesn't flicker.
It simply glows.
Steady,
Calm,
And unbothered.
And you understand that this lantern represents the part of you that never panics.
I've heard of you beneath the thoughts.
Beneath the plans,
Beneath the stories.
A part of you that's been still all along.
The part that does not need sleep because it is already peace.
And as you move closer to the ladder You may feel that same stillness beginning to spread through you.
Now,
Not as an idea,
Not as a belief,
But as a physical softness,
A melting,
A letting go.
The nervous system receiving the message is safe to rest now,
Safe to drift.
Safe to sleep.
And you may now imagine that the lantern sends out slow pulses of golden light.
Oh,
Very gentle.
Look at Harvey.
One pulse softening the forehead.
Another pulse softening the jaw.
Another pulse softening the throat.
Another ball softening the chest.
Another ball softening the belly.
And another ball softening the legs.
And now the whole body is receiving that light.
Not bright,
Not stimulating.
Just warm.
Dim and sleepy.
So begin walking away and down a corridor.
The lantern floats beside you now,
Guiding you.
And along these walls are little alcoves.
Small shells made of smooth stone.
Each one waiting to hold something for the night.
He placed one unfinished thought on the first shelf.
No need to name it clearly.
Just let some small mental noise move out of you and rest there.
Good.
Farther down now,
Place another concern on the next shelf.
Let it be held by the stone.
You don't have to carry it while you sleep.
And farther still another shall.
Another release.
Player.
Don't worry.
And feeling.
The pressure.
A question.
Just sat it down.
The corridor can hold it.
And I can hold it.
Life can hold it.
You don't need a hole at all.
And as you continue walking.
You realize the shelves are endless.
There's room for everything here.
Every thought that rises can be placed down.
Every unfinished thing can wait.
Every emotional knot can loosen at its own pace.
Nothing needs to be dragged into sleep.
Nothing needs to follow you all the way down.
And now there's only floating.
Floating in the chamber of slow water.
Held by something older than thought.
The body may be in your bed.
The mind may be in the way.
The deeper self may be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And none of that has to make sense.
Sleep doesn't need things to make sense.
Sleeve is not an argument.
Sleeve is a surrender.
Just the simple kind.
This light is becoming part of the dream.
The small golden glow in the center of the chest.
Or behind the eyes.
Or even deep in the valley.
Wherever it appears is fine.
And that love begins to balance.
Slowly.
With long spaces between each pulse.
I don't know.
A pause.
Of the law.
Amen.
And in each pause you drift.
And in each pause you forget a little more.
And in each pause,
Sleep comes a little closer.
You may hear my voice clearly.
Or you may hear only the rhythm.
You may follow every image.
Or you may lose the thread completely.
Both are perfect.
The conscious mind doesn't need to keep up.
The conscious mind can wander.
Breathe.
Invade.
So there is nothing to do.
Nothing to remember.
Nothing to get right.
Even relaxation can relax.
And now we go even deeper.
Will hound down again,
This time from 20 to 1.
You don't have to listen to every number.
You don't even have to follow them.
Each number is simply a stone step further away from waking.
A soft marker on the path to sleep.
Some 20,
The surface grows dimmer.
19,
Body grows heavier.
18,
The mind grows slower.
17.
The day grows even more distant.
Sixteen,
The breath grows softer now.
15,
Room fades around the edges.
14.
The lake becomes more real than thought itself.
13.
The lantern glows in the dark.
Well,
The muscle's loosened.
However,
The bones feel heavy.
10,
Halfway down now.
Nine,
Drifting even deeper.
A sinking even deeper.
Seven,
Softening.
Six,
Letting go.
But almost no effort now.
For almost no time.
3,
Almost dreaming now.
Two.
Almost gone.
And what deep sleep can come whenever it comes.
You you and as you listen.
You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world that there's a lake.
A deep,
Dark,
And peaceful lake.
No,
Not Friday.
Not at all.
But ain't ya?
Still.
Protected.
A lake hidden in a valley no map has ever shown.
The sky above is filled with soft night.
The stones are faint and silver.
Pierre is gone.
And at the edge of the lake there's a small wooden dock.
Or smooth and weathered by time.
And you're standing there now in the quiet of this inner place barely needing them out.
Barely needing to think.
Just noticing the still water before you.
Is somewhere deep beneath the surface.
A small golden lantern is glowing.
Very faint at first,
A single point of warm light.
And still the lake itself has a heart.
As though something peaceful below the surface has been waiting for you.
Not calling loudly.
Not demanding anything.
Just glowing wildly impatiently.
And you understand in that deep dreaming way.
This lantern is not something you need to reach with effort.
Is simply where your awareness is going.
Yeah,
We're.
.
.
Naturally into rest.
Endlessly.
Into the quiet beneath the quiet.
So take another slow breath in.
And as you breathe out,
Feel your forehead soften.
The tiny muscles around the eyes relaxing the eyes resting in their sockets.
The eyelids becoming heavier heavier and heavier.
Seems they're made for sleep now.
So I thought,
Yeah,
Like I said.
Where the dung rest.
Let the throat soften.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to explain.
Nothing to defend.
The face can stop being a face for the world.
And can simply become soft.
Private,
Unwatched and at rest.
So let the shoulders drop.
Even just a little,
As if some invisible wave slides away from them.
As the arms become loose.
Of her arms heavy.
Elbow is heavy.
Forearms heavy.
Wrists are loose.
And zero,
Quiet.
Fingers are soft.
His don't need to hold the day anymore.
They can release it.
So let the chest soften.
Let the breath move without being watched too closely.
And let the belly rise and fall in its own time.
No control is needed.
The body knows.
The body has always known.
So let the back sink down.
Hop her back.
Lower back.
All of the giving way into support.
So let the hymns speak on heavy.
And the legs become heavy.
Eyes are softening.
Vi Sa Vinay.
And softening.
Ankles are loose Feen or quiet?
Toes are resting.
The whole body now becoming more like the lake.
Still on the surface.
Deep underneath.
And somewhere below the lantern of love.
You may imagine now that you step slowly from the dock into a small wooden boat.
Is waiting for you.
Simple and safe.
Rocking almost imperceptibly on the still water.
There is no rush.
The boat knows the way.
And doesn't need ours.
It doesn't need effort.
It begins to move only when you're ready.
And as you settle into it,
You notice how perfectly it holds you.
The wood is warm.
The night is soft.
The water is silent.
And the bone begins to drift away from the dock,
Slowly,
Smoothly,
Carrying you toward the center of the lake.
And with every breath the shore becomes less important.
And with every breath,
The day becomes less real.
And with every breath,
The world of names and cloths and duties grows even dimmer behind you.
The bow glides forward.
And the lake reflects the stars.
And above you,
Stars.
And below you is stars.
And all around you,
Darkness and light.
And you're floating between worlds now,
Between waking and dreaming.
Between thought and silence.
Between the surface and the deep.
There is nothing to do.
The bow moves by itself.
And the lantern below the water grows a little brighter.
Still soft,
Still distant,
But clearer now.
A warm golden glow beneath the dark glass of the lake.
And as the bow reaches the center of the water.
And becomes very still.
Perfectly still.
So still that it feels like the whole universe is holding its breath.
No,
Not tense.
Not waiting.
Just silent.
And in that silence,
You notice a spiral staircase appearing beneath the surface.
Now not made of stone.
Not made of wood.
A mane of dim golden light.
A staircase descending into the lake.
Down toward the lantern.
And somehow.
In this dream-like place.
You understand that you can descend without effort.
You don't need to swim.
You don't need to hold your breath.
You simply follow the light.
Because this is not ordinary water.
This is the water of sleep,
The water of the deeper mind.
The water that carries you away from noise and back into the old peace beneath everything.
Now,
In a moment,
I'll count from 10 down to one.
And with each number,
You can drift deeper.
Not because you're trying,
But because the body enjoys letting go.
The mind enjoys being relieved of duty.
And the deeper self knows the path.
Sun Tan,
The ball fades behind you.
9.
The surface of the lake grows far above.
Eh?
You begin to descend the glowing stair.
7,
Each step softer than the one before.
Six,
The body is heavier,
The mind is quieter.
Five,
Halfway down now.
Drifting beneath us.
The water around you is warm,
Dark,
And peaceful.
Three,
The lantern brighter below.
Two.
Almost there now.
Yeah,
I don't know why.
Deep and quiet and safe.
And now you're standing at the bottom of the lake.
But there's no pressure here.
No cold.
No fear.
Only a vast and gentle stillness.
A world beneath the world.
The lake floor is smooth and dark,
Like a polished stone.
Tiny points of light move slowly around you.
Like sleepy fireflies underwater And ahead of you sits the lantern,
Small,
Woven,
Ancient,
Resting on a flat stone.
Its flame doesn't flicker.
It simply glows.
Steady,
Calm,
And unbothered.
And you understand that this lantern represents the part of you that never panics.
The part of you beneath the thoughts.
Beneath the plans,
Beneath the stories.
A part of you that's been still all along.
The part that does not need sleep because it is already peace.
And as you move closer to the ladder You may feel that same stillness beginning to spread through you.
Now not as an idea,
Not as a belief,
But as a physical softness,
A melting,
A letting go,
The nervous system receiving the message.
It is safe to rest now,
Safe to drift.
Safe to sleep.
You And you may now imagine that the lantern sends out slow pulses of golden light.
Oh,
Very gentle.
Like a harpy.
One pulse softening the forehead.
Another pulse softening the jaw.
Another pulse softening the throat.
Another ball softening the chest.
Another ball softening the belly.
And another ball softening the legs.
And now the whole body is receiving that light.
Not bright,
Not stimulating.
Just warm.
Dim and sleepy.
So begin walking away and down a corridor.
The lantern floats beside you now,
Guiding you.
And along these walls are little alcoves.
Small shells made of smooth stone.
Each one waiting to hold something for the night.
He placed one unfinished thought on the first shelf.
No need to name it clearly.
Just let some small mental noise move out of you and rest there.
Good.
Farther down now.
Place another concern on the next shelf.
Let it be held by the stone.
You don't have to carry it while you sleep.
And farther still another shell.
Another release.
A player.
Don't worry.
And feeling.
Of pressure.
A question.
Just set it down.
The corridor can hold it.
And I can hold it.
Life can hold it.
You don't need a hole at all.
And as you continue walking you realize the shelves are endless.
There's room for everything here.
Every thought that rises can be placed down.
Every unfinished thing can wait.
Every emotional knot can loosen at its own pace.
Nothing needs to be dragged into sleep Nothing needs to follow you all the way down.
And now there's only floating.
Floating in the chamber of slow water.
Held by something older than thought.
The body may be in your bed.
The mind may be in the way.
The deeper self may be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And none of that has to make sense.
Sleep doesn't need things to make sense.
Sleeve is not an argument.
Sleeve is a surrender.
Just the simple kind.
This light is becoming part of the dream.
The small golden glow in the center of the chest.
Or behind the eyes.
Or even deep in the valley.
Wherever it appears is fine and that love begins to balance.
Slowly with long spaces between each pulse.
I don't know.
I paused.
Of the law.
Namaskar.
And in each pause you drift.
And in each pause you forget a little more.
And in each pause,
Sleep comes a little closer.
You may hear my voice clearly.
Or you may hear only the rhythm.
You may follow every image.
Or you may lose the thread completely.
Both are perfect.
The conscious mind doesn't need to keep up.
The conscious mind can wander.
Breathe.
In faith.
So there is nothing to do.
Nothing to remember.
Nothing to get right.
Even relaxation can relax.
And now we go even deeper.
Or hound down again.
This time from 20 to 1.
You don't have to listen to every number.
You don't even have to follow them.
Each number is simply a stone step further away from waking.
A soft marker on the path to sleep.
Some 20,
And the surface grows dimmer.
Nineteen,
Body grows heavier.
18,
The mind grows slower.
17.
The day grows even more distant.
At 16,
The breath grows softer now.
15.
A room fades around the edges.
14.
The lake becomes more real than thought itself.
13.
The lantern glows in the dark.
Well,
The muscles loosen.
The latter,
The bones feel heavy.
Halfway down now.
Nine,
Drifting even deeper.
A sinking even deeper.
Seven,
Softening.
Six,
Letting go.
But,
Almost no effort now.
For almost no time.
3,
Almost dreaming now.
Who?
Almost gone.
And what deep sleep can come whenever it comes.
And as you listen,
You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world that there's a lake.
A deep,
Dark,
And peaceful lake.
No,
Not Friday.
Not cool.
What ain't ya?
Still.
Protect it.
A lake hidden in a valley no map has ever shown.
The sky above is filled with soft night.
The stones are faint and silver.
The air is calm.
And at the edge of the lake there's a small wooden dock.
Rawr!
Smooth and weathered by time.
And you're standing there now in the quiet of this inner place.
Barely needing them out.
Barely needing to think.
Just noticing the still water before you.
Is somewhere deep beneath the surface.
The small golden lantern is glowing.
Very faint at first,
A single point of warm light.
And still the lake itself has a heart as though something peaceful below the surface has been waiting for you Not calling loudly.
Not demanding anything.
Just glowing wildly impatiently.
And you understand in that deep dreaming way.
This lantern is not something you need to reach with effort.
Is simply where your awareness is going.
Downward.
Naturally into rest.
Endlessly.
Into the quiet beneath the quiet.
So take another slow breath in.
And as you breathe out,
Feel your forehead soften.
The tiny muscles around the eyes relaxing the eyes resting in their sockets.
The eyelids becoming heavier heavier and heavier.
As if they're made for sleep now So I thought,
Yeah,
I'll leave soon.
Where the tongue rests.
May the throat soften.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to explain.
Nothing to defend.
The face can stop being a face for the world.
It can simply become soft.
Private,
Unwatched and at rest.
So let the shoulders drop.
Even just a little as if some invisible wave slides away from them Let the arms become loose.
Of her arms heavy.
Elbow is heavy.
Forearms heavy.
Wrists are loose.
Hands are quiet.
Fingers are soft.
The hands don't need to hold the day anymore.
They can release it.
So let the chest soften.
Let the breath move without being watched too closely.
And let the belly rise and fall in its own time.
No control is needed.
The body knows.
The body has always known.
So let the back sink down.
Not very bad.
Lower back.
All of the giving way into support.
So the hips become heavy.
When the legs become heavy.
Thighs are softening.
MI SAAVANEH have Sahadeva.
Ankles are loose Feet are quiet.
Toes are resting.
The whole body now becoming more like the lake.
Still on the surface.
Deep underneath and somewhere below the lantern of love.
You may imagine now that you step slowly from the dock into a small wooden boat.
Is waiting for you.
Simple and safe.
Rocking almost imperceptibly on the still water.
There is no rush.
The boat knows the way.
And doesn't need ours.
It doesn't need effort.
It begins to move only when you're ready.
And as you settle into it,
You notice how perfectly it holds you.
The wood is warm.
The night is soft.
The water is silent.
And the bone begins to drift away from the dock,
Slowly,
Smoothly,
Carrying you toward the center of the lake.
And with every breath the shore becomes less important.
And with every breath,
The day becomes less real.
And with every breath,
The world of names and clocks and duties grows even dimmer behind you.
The bow glides forward.
And the lake reflects the stars.
And above you,
Stars.
And below you is stars and all around you,
Darkness and light.
And you're floating between worlds now between waking and dreaming between thought and silence.
Between the surface and the deep.
There is nothing to do.
The boat moves by itself.
And the lantern below the water grows a little brighter.
Still soft,
Still distant,
But clear enough.
A warm golden glow beneath the dark glass of the lake.
And as the bow reaches the center of the water.
And becomes very still.
Perfectly still.
So still that it feels like the whole universe is holding its breath.
No,
Not a chance.
Not waiting.
Just silent.
And in that silence,
You notice a spiral staircase appearing beneath the surface,
Now not made of stone.
Not made of wood.
A mane of dim olden light.
A staircase descending into the lake.
Down toward the lantern.
Somehow.
In this dreamlike place,
You understand that you can descend without effort.
You don't need to swim.
You don't need to hold your breath.
You simply follow the light.
Because this is not ordinary water.
This is the water of sleep.
The water of the deeper mind.
The water that carries you away from noise and back into the old peace beneath everything.
Now in a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number you can drift deeper.
Not because you're drying.
But because the body enjoys letting go.
The mind enjoys being relieved of duty.
And the deeper self knows the path.
Sun Tan,
The ball fades behind you.
9.
The surface of the lake grows far above.
Hmm?
You begin to descend the glowing stair.
Seven,
Each step softer than the one before.
Six,
The body is heavier,
The mind is quieter.
I'm halfway down now.
Drifting beneath thought.
The water around you is warm,
Dark,
And peaceful.
3.
The lantern brighter below.
Two.
Almost there now.
Yeah,
I don't mind.
Deep and quiet and safe.
And now you're standing at the bottom of the lake.
But there's no pressure here.
No cold.
No fear.
Only a vast and gentle stillness.
A world beneath the world.
The lake floor is smooth and dark,
Like a polished stone.
Tiny points of light move slowly around you.
Like sleepy fireflies underwater.
And ahead of you sits the lantern,
Small,
Golden,
Ancient,
Resting on a flat stone.
Its flame doesn't flicker.
It simply glows.
Steady,
Calm,
And unbothered.
And you understand that this lantern represents the part of you that never panics.
Of art of you beneath the thoughts.
Beneath the plans,
Beneath the stories.
A part of you that's been still all along.
The part that does not need sleep because it is already peace.
And as you move closer to the ladder You may feel that same stillness beginning to spread through you.
Now,
Not as an idea,
Not as a belief,
But as a physical softness,
A melting,
A letting go.
The nervous system receiving the message is safe to rest now,
Safe to drift.
Safe to sleep.
And you may now imagine that the lantern sends out slow pulses of golden light.
Oh,
Very gentle,
Like a harpy.
One pulse softening the forehead.
Another pulse softening the jaw.
Another pulse softening the throat.
Another ball softening the chest.
Another ball softening the belly.
And another ball softening the legs.
And now the whole body is receiving that light.
Not right.
Not stimulating.
Just warm.
Dim and sleepy.
So begin walking away and down a corridor.
The lantern floats beside you now,
Guiding you.
And along these walls are little alcoves.
Small shells made of smooth stone.
Each one waiting to hold something for the night.
He placed one unfinished thought on the first shelf.
No need to name it clearly.
Just let some small mental noise move out of you and rest there.
Good.
Farther down now.
Place another concern on the next shelf.
Let it be held by the stone.
You don't have to carry it while you sleep.
And farther still another shell.
Another release.
Player.
Don't worry.
And feeling.
Of pressure.
A question.
Just sat it down.
The corridor can hold it.
And I can hold it.
Life can hold it.
You don't need a hole at all.
And as you continue walking you realize the shelves are endless.
There's room for everything here.
Every thought that rises can be placed down.
Every unfinished thing can wait.
Every emotional knot can loosen at its own pace.
Nothing needs to be dragged into sleep.
Nothing needs to follow you all the way down.
You and now there's only floating.
Flowing in the chamber of slow water.
Held by something older than thought.
The body may be in your bed.
The mind may be in the way.
The deeper self may be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And none of that has to make sense.
Sleep doesn't need things to make sense.
Sleeve is not an argument.
Sleeve is a surrender.
Just the simple kind.
This light is becoming part of the dream.
The small golden glow in the center of the chest.
Or behind the eyes.
Or even deep in the valley.
Wherever it appears is fine.
And that love begins to pulse.
Slowly.
With long spaces between each pulse.
I don't know.
Because.
.
.
Of the law.
Bye-bye.
And in each pause you drift.
And in each pause you forget a little more.
And in each pause,
Sleep comes a little closer.
You may hear my voice clearly.
Or you may hear only the rhythm.
You may follow every image.
Or you may lose the thread completely.
Well,
They're perfect.
The conscious mind doesn't need to keep up.
The conscious mind can wander.
Breathe.
In faith.
So there is nothing to do.
Nothing to remember.
Nothing to get right.
Even relaxation can relax.
And now we go even deeper.
Or hound down again.
This time from 20 to 1.
You don't have to listen to every number.
You don't even have to follow them.
Each number is simply a stone step further away from waking.
A soft marker on the path to sleep.
Some 20,
The surface grows dimmer.
19,
Body grows heavier.
18 am I a row slower.
17.
The day grows even more distant.
Sixteen,
The breath grows softer now.
15 room fades around the edges Fourteen,
The lake becomes more real than thought itself.
13.
The lantern glows in the dark.
Well,
The muscles loosen.
Or rather,
The bones feel heavy.
Halfway down now.
Nine,
Drifting even deeper.
A sinking even deeper.
Seven,
Softening.
Six,
Letting go.
But almost no effort now.
For.
Almost no time.
Hurry.
Almost dreaming now.
Who?
Almost gone.
And what deep sleep can come whenever it comes.
And as you listen,
You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world You may imagine that somewhere far beneath the ordinary noise of the world that there's a lake.
A deep,
Dark,
And peaceful lake.
No,
Not Friday.
Not at all.
What ain't ya?
Still.
Protect it.
A lake hidden in a valley no map has ever shot.
The sky above is filled with soft night.
The stones are faint and silver.
The air is calm.
And at the edge of the lake there is a small wooden dock.
Rawr!
Smooth and weathered by time.
And you're standing there now in the quiet of this inner place barely needing them up.
Barely needing to think.
Just noticing the still water before you.
Is somewhere deep beneath the surface.
A small golden lantern is glowing.
Very faint at first,
A single point of warm light.
As though the lake itself has a heart.
As though something peaceful below the surface has been waiting for you.
Not calling loudly.
Not demanding anything.
Just glowing wildly impatiently.
And you understand in that deep dreaming way.
This lantern is not something you need to reach with effort.
Is simply where your awareness is going.
Downward.
Naturally into rest.
Endlessly.
Into the quiet beneath the quiet.
So take another slow breath in And as you breathe out,
Feel your forehead soften.
The tiny muscles around the eyes relaxing the eyes resting in their sockets.
The eyelids becoming heavier.
Heavier and heavier.
As if they're made for sleep now.
So I thought,
Yeah,
I'll accept it.
Where the dawn rests.
May the throat soften.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to explain.
Nothing to defend.
The face can stop being a face for the world.
And can simply become soft.
Private,
Unwatched and at rest.
So let the shoulders drop.
Even just a little,
As if some invisible wave slides away from them.
Let the arms become loose.
Of her arms heavy.
Elbows heavy.
Forearms heavy.
Wrists are loose.
Hands are quiet.
Fingers are soft.
You don't need to hold the day anymore.
They can release it.
So let the chance soften.
Let the breath move without being watched too closely.
And let the belly arise and fall in its own time.
No control is needed.
The body knows.
The body has always known.
Soul in the back,
Sink down.
Not very bad.
Lower back.
All of the giving way into support.
So let the hymns speak on heavy.
And the legs become heavy.
Eyes are softening.
MI SAVANEH have Sahadeva.
Ankles are loose Feen or quiet.
Hose are resting.
The whole body now becoming more like the lake.
Still on the surface,
Deep underneath.
And somewhere below,
The lantern of love.
You may imagine now that you step slowly from the dock into a small wooden boat.
Is waiting for you.
Simple and safe.
Rocking almost imperceptibly on the still water.
There is no rush.
The boat knows the way.
And doesn't need ours.
It doesn't need effort.
It begins to move only when you're ready.
And as you settle into it,
You notice how perfectly it holds you.
The wood is warm.
The night is soft.
The water is silent.
And the bone begins to drift away from the dot,
Slowly,
Smoothly,
Carrying you toward the center of the lake.
And with every breath the shore becomes less important.
And with every breath,
The day becomes less real.
And with every breath the world of names and clocks and duties grows even dimmer behind you.
The bow glides forward.
And the lake reflects the stars and above you,
Stars.
And below you is stars.
And all around you,
Darkness and light.
And you're floating between worlds now between waking and dreaming between thought and silence.
Between the surface and the deep.
There is nothing to do.
The bone moves by itself.
And the lantern below the water grows a little brighter.
Still soft,
Still distant,
But clearer now.
A warm golden glow beneath the dark glass of the lake.
And as the bow reaches the center of the water.
And becomes very still.
Perfectly still.
So still that it feels like the whole universe is holding its breath.
No,
Not tense.
Not waiting.
Just silent.
And in that silence,
You notice a spiral staircase appearing beneath the surface,
Now not made of stone.
Not made of wood.
A mane of dim olden light.
The staircase descending into the lake.
Down toward the lantern.
Somehow.
In this dreamlike place,
You understand that you can descend without effort.
You don't need to swim.
You don't need to hold your breath.
You simply follow the light.
Because this is not ordinary water This is the water of sleep,
The water of the deeper mind.
The water that carries you away from noise and back into the old peace beneath everything.
Now in a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number you can drift deeper.
Not because you're trying.
But because the body enjoys letting go.
The mind enjoys being relieved of duty.
And the deeper self knows the path.
Some time.
The ball fades behind you.
9.
The surface of the lake grows far above.
Hey,
You begin to descend the glowing stair.
Seven,
Each step softer than the one before.
Six,
The body is heavier,
The mind is quieter.
I'm halfway down now.
Drifting many thoughts.
For.
The water around you is warm,
Dark,
And peaceful.
3.
The lantern brighter below.
Two.
Almost there now.
Yeah,
I don't know why.
Deep and quiet and safe.
And now you're standing at the bottom of the lake.
There's no pressure here.
No cold.
No fear.
Only a vast and gentle stillness.
A world beneath the world.
The lake floor is smooth and dark,
Like a polished stone.
Tiny points of light move slowly around you.
Like sleepy fireflies underwater.
And ahead of you sits the lantern,
Small,
Golden,
Ancient,
Resting on a flat stone.
Its flame doesn't flicker.
It simply glows.
Steady,
Calm,
And unbothered.
And you understand that this lantern represents the part of you that never panics.
I've heard of you beneath the thoughts.
Beneath the plans beneath the stories A part of you that's been still all along.
The part that does not need sleep because it is already peace.
And as you move closer to the ladder You may feel that same stillness beginning to spread through you.
Now,
Not as an idea,
Not as a belief,
But as a physical softness,
A melting,
A letting go.
The nervous system receiving the message is safe to rest now,
Safe to drift,
Safe to sleep.
And you may now imagine that the lantern sends out slow pulses of golden light.
Oh,
Very gentle.
Like a harpy.
One pulse softening the forehead.
Another pulse softening the jaw.
Another pulse softening the throat.
Another ball softening the chest.
Another pulse softening the belly.
And another ball softening the legs.
And now the whole body is receiving that light.
Not bright,
Not stimulating.
Just warm.
Dim and sleepy.
So begin walking away and down a corridor.
The lantern floats beside you now,
Guiding you.
And along these walls are little alcoves.
Small shells made of smooth stone.
Each one waiting to hold something for the night.
He placed one unfinished thought on the first shelf.
No need to name it clearly.
Just let some small mental noise move out of you and rest there.
Good.
Farther down now,
Place another concern on the next shelf.
Let it be held by the stone.
You don't have to carry it while you sleep.
And farther still another shell.
Another release.
Player.
Don't worry.
And feeling.
Of pressure.
Question.
Just set it down.
The corridor can hold it.
The night and all that.
Life can hold it.
You don't need a hole at all.
And as you continue walking you realize the shelves are endless.
There's room for everything here.
Every thought that rises can be placed down.
Every unfinished thing can wait.
Every emotional knot can loosen at its own pace.
Nothing needs to be dragged into sleep.
Nothing needs to follow you all the way down.
And now there's only floating.
Floating in the chamber of slow water.
Held by something older than thought.
The body may be in your bed.
The mind may be in the way.
The deeper self may be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And none of that has to make sense.
Sleep doesn't need things to make sense.
Sleeve is not an argument.
Sleeve is a surrender.
Just the simple kind.
This light is becoming part of the dream.
The small golden glow in the center of the chest.
Or behind the eyes.
Or even deep in the valley.
Wherever it appears is fine.
And that love begins to balance.
Slowly,
With long spaces between each pulse.
Let alone the cause.
Of the world.
Avalanche.
And in each pause you drift.
And in each pause you forget a little more.
And in each pause,
Sleep comes a little closer.
You may hear my voice clearly.
Or you may hear only the rhythm.
You may follow every image.
Or you may lose the thread completely.
Both are perfect.
The conscious mind doesn't need to keep up.
The conscious mind can wander.
Breathe.
And say,
So there is nothing to do.
Nothing to remember.
Nothing to get right.
Even relaxation can relax.
And now we go even deeper.
Or hound down again.
This time from 20 to 1.
You don't have to listen to every number.
You don't even have to follow them.
Each number is simply a stone step further away from waking.
A soft marker on the path to sleep.
Some 20,
And the surface grows dimmer.
19,
Body grows heavier.
18 am I a row slower?
17.
The day rose even more distant.
Sixteen,
The breath grows softer now.
15,
Room fades around the edges.
14.
The lake becomes more real than thought itself.
13.
The lantern glows in the dark.
Well,
The muscles loosen.
Or latter,
The bones feel heavy.
10,
Halfway down now.
9,
Drifting even deeper.
A sinking even deeper.
Seven,
Softening.
Six,
Letting go.
Hi.
Almost no effort now.
4.
Almost no time.
3 almost dreaming now Who?
Almost gone.
And what deep sleep can come whenever it comes.
You Good night and namaste.
