Welcome.
Only listen when you're safe to relax.
Rest and fall asleep.
This session is designed to loop.
So there's no way of ending.
No final return.
No need to stay awake until the end.
The words can become familiar.
The rhythm can be softer.
And each time it loops,
Your body can understand the message more easily.
Rest now.
Let go now.
Sleep can come when it comes.
So begin by letting the body settle.
As the bed holds you.
Will the room become less important?
Let the day move farther away.
So,
Take a slow breath in.
And then let it go.
And again,
Breathe in gently.
And release.
No force,
Just breathing.
Just resting.
Just allowing the body to remember what it already knows how to do.
The mind still may be moving,
And that is fine.
The mind often keeps walking after the day is over.
So we don't fight it,
We give it a softer road.
A quieter rhythm.
A simple image to follow into sleep.
And tonight you may imagine a quiet valley beneath a deep midnight sky.
The hills are dark.
The air is still.
The star,
The stars are soft and distant.
Through the valley runs a single railway track.
It's silver in the moonlight.
It curves through trees and then disappears into the mist.
And far away a small golden light appeared.
Warm,
Steady,
And very peaceful.
Is the headlamp of an old midnight train.
I'm sleepy.
A quiet train.
A train that only arrives when the body is ready to stop carrying the day.
You're standing on a small wooden platform in the valley.
No crowds.
No noise.
No rush.
Only the night.
The track.
The mess.
And the saw golden lane is moving closer.
The train approaches slowly.
And sound is gentle.
A lower rhythm along the rails.
Almost like breathing.
Almost like a harpy Closer now.
Soft and steady and calm.
And with every quiet sound of the wheels,
Your body can relax a little more.
The forehead softens.
The eye saw her.
The jaw loosens.
Shoulders drop the hands grow still.
The chest releases.
The belly softens.
The legs become heavier The feet,
Well,
They let go.
The train stops in front of you.
The doors,
All that warm light spills softly onto the platform.
Inside is a quiet carriage.
All the way.
Some say Dim the lamps.
Wide windows looking out into the sleepy valley.
Everything here says rest.
Everything here says safe.
Everything here says there's nowhere else you need to be.
So you step inside,
Slowly,
Easily.
And you choose the seat by the window.
The seed is soft and deep.
That supports the back.
And supports the shoulders.
And supports the hat.
The arms and legs can rest.
Nothing has to hold itself up anymore.
Nothing has to be carried.
Nothing has to be solved.
And the doors close softly now.
The Lance,
Yeah.
And the midnight train begins to move.
Very slowly at first,
A gentle pull.
In a quiet way.
A smooth rolling forward into the valley.
The platform slips away behind you.
The day slips away behind you.
The version of you that had to think and answer and plan begins to slip away too.
And the train carries you onward.
Hence the dark trees.
And silver grass.
As white hills beneath the stars.
Everything outside the window moves slowly.
Dreamily.
Nothing urgent,
Nothing sharp.
Only the rhythm of travel through the night.
Rolling.
So many.
And drifting.
And because this session loops,
This rhythm can continue as long as you need.
And if you hear these words again.
They can simply take you deeper.
The train will still be moving.
The valley will still be quiet.
And you already know the way.
Now let the body receive permission to rest.
Let the muscles around the eyes loosen.
The eyelids become heavy.
Let the jaw hang loose.
Let the tongue rest.
Let the throes of it.
No need to speak.
No need to even explain.
No need to answer anyone.
So let the shoulders melt down.
As though everything you carry today is sliding away.
Let the arms grow heavy.
Up your arms.
Forearms.
Rest.
Hands.
Fingers.
Oh,
Quiet now.
All done for the day.
So,
Where did you end up?
Let the breath move on its own.
Let the belly soften.
Let the bag settle.
Where the hips become heavy.
With the thighs sink.
And let the knees loosen.
Let the calves rest.
Let the ankles and feet become quiet and warm.
The whole body is now resting in the carriage.
Held by the sea.
Move gently through the night.
Outside the window of the train enters a dark forest.
The branches arch over the track.
Moonlight filters through the trees.
Mist moves low along the ground.
And as the train passes through this forest.
You may imagine the trees taking thoughts from your mind.
One tree will take away.
Another tree takes a blast.
Another taste of memory.
Another takes a conversation you replayed too many times.
Another takes the pressure you don't need tonight.
Tree after tree,
Thought after thought.
Release after release.
You don't need to know what each tree takes.
You don't need to choose.
The deeper mind knows what can wait.
The deeper mind knows what can be set down.
The wheels continue softly along the track.
And you sink a little deeper into the sea.
A little deeper into comfort.
A little deeper into the place between waking and dreaming.
And in a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number the train carries you deeper into rest.
Ten,
The train moves softly through the valley.
Nine,
The body becomes even heavier.
A,
The mind begins to slow.
7.
The outside world moves farther away.
At six,
The breath becomes even quieter.
Five,
Halfway down now.
War.
That carries rocks gently.
Three,
The thoughts fade into the mist.
The body is warm and safe.
And one,
Drifting even deeper.
The train now passes a small station called Today.
It slows,
But it doesn't stop.
Everything from today begins to blur.
The tasks,
The moments,
The feelings,
The small frustrations,
The little unfinished things.
And all of it softens.
All of it softens.
All of it moves behind you now.
Today is over.
So you don't need to keep living it.
And the train passes another station called Tomorrow.
Anything you were rehearsing for tomorrow can stay there on the platform.
Plans can wait.
Problems,
Can we?
People go away.
The future doesn't need you while you sleep.
The train passes one more station called What If.
All those little imagined futures begin to loosen.
Whatever this happens.
What if that happens?
What if I can't?
What have I shut out?
And all of the fades behind the glass.
And the train keeps on moving.
And you?
You're still here.
See?
And carry.
Outside the window,
A dark river begins to run beside the tracks.
The drain follows the river.
The river follows the train both moving in the same direction.
Walt Hall,
Walt Cern.
And any remaining thought can be placed on that river.
The thought rises.
Place it on the water.
Let it float away.
The feeling rises.
Place it on the water and let it float away.
A memory,
A worry,
A restless little spark.
Place it on the water and let it float away.
The river doesn't judge.
A river simply carries.
And now you don't need to carry so much.
The drain carries the body.
A river,
Well,
It carries the thoughts.
The night carries the rest And now the train moves so softly it almost seems still.
The wheels are barely making a sound.
Their carriage barely moves.
The blanket is warm.
The seed is deep.
The Nihilist Analyst So let yourself drift between the words beneath the images.
Beneath the need to know what comes next.
There is no next thing to manage.
Only this breath.
Than the next.
Only this moment and the next.
Only this soft descent.
In January.
Looping.
Deepening.
And tonight you may imagine a quiet valley beneath a deep midnight sky.
The hills are dark.
The air is still.
The star,
The stars are soft and distant.
Through the valley runs a single railway track.
It's silver in the moonlight.
It curves through trees and then disappears into the mist.
And far away,
A small golden light appears.
Why?
Steady.
And very peaceful.
Is the headlamp of an old midnight train.
And sleep here.
A quiet train.
A train that only arrives when the body is ready to stop carrying the day.
You're standing on a small wooden platform in the valley.
No crowds.
No noise.
No rush.
Only the night.
The track.
The mess.
And the soft golden lane is moving closer.
The train approaches slowly.
This sound is gentle.
A low rhythm along the rails.
Almost like breathing.
Almost like a harpy Closer now.
Soft and steady and calm.
And with every quiet sound of the wheels,
Your body can relax a little more.
The forehead softens.
The eye has saw her.
The jaw loosens.
The shoulders drop.
The hands grow still.
The chest releases.
The belly softens.
The legs become heavier The feet,
Well,
They let go.
The train stops in front of you.
The doors all that.
Warm light spills softly onto the platform.
Inside is a quiet carriage.
All the way.
Some say Dim the lamps.
Wide windows looking out into the sleepy valley.
Everything here says rest.
Everything here says safe.
Everything here says there's nowhere else you need to be.
So you stepped inside.
Slowly.
Easily.
And you choose the seat by the window.
The seed is soft and deep.
That supports the back.
And supports the shoulders.
And supports the hat.
The arms and legs can rest.
Nothing has to hold itself up anymore.
Nothing has to be carried Nothing has to be solved.
And the doors close softly now.
The Lance down.
And the midnight train begins to move.
Very slowly at first,
A gentle pull.
In a quiet way.
A smooth rolling forward into the valley.
The platform slips away behind you.
The day slips away behind you.
The version of you that had to think and answer and plan begins to slip away too.
And the train carries you onward.
Hence the dark trees.
And silver grass.
As white hills beneath the stars.
Everything outside the window moves slowly.
Dreamily.
Nothing urgent,
Nothing sharp.
Only the rhythm of travel through the night.
Rolling.
So many.
And drifting.
And because this session loops,
This rhythm can continue as long as you need.
And if you hear these words again,
They can simply take you deeper.
The train will still be moving.
The valley will still be quiet.
And you already know the way.
Now let the body receive permission to rest.
Let the muscles around the eyes loosen.
The eyelids become heavy.
Let the jaw hang loose.
Let the tongue rest.
Let the throes of it.
No need to speak.
No need to even explain.
No need to answer anyone.
So let the shoulders melt down.
As though everything you carry today is sliding away.
Let the arms grow heavy.
Up your arms.
Forearms.
Rest.
Hands.
Fingers.
Oh,
Quiet now.
All done for the day.
So,
Where the jets at?
Let the breath move on its own.
Let the belly soften.
Let the bags settle.
Let the hips become heavy.
Let the thighs sink in.
Now let the knees loosen.
Let the calves rest.
Let the ankles and feet become quiet and warm.
The whole body is now resting in the carriage.
Held by the sea.
Move gently through the night.
Outside the window of the train enters a dark forest.
The branches arch over the track.
Moonlight filters through the trees.
Mist moves low along the ground.
And as the train passes through this forest.
You may imagine the trees taking thoughts from your mind.
One tree will take away.
Another tree takes a blast.
Another taste of memory.
Another takes a conversation you replayed too many times.
Another takes the pressure you don't need tonight.
Tree after tree,
Thought after thought.
Release after release.
You don't need to know what each tree takes.
You don't need to choose.
The deeper mind knows what can wait.
The deeper mind knows what can be set down.
The wheels continue softly along the track.
And you sink a little deeper into the sea.
A little deeper into comfort.
A little deeper into the place between waking and dreaming.
In a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number the train carries you deeper into rest.
And the train moves softly through the valley.
Nine,
The body becomes even heavier.
A,
The mind begins to slow.
7.
The outside world moves farther away.
At six,
The breath becomes even quieter.
Five,
Halfway down now.
War.
That carries rocks gently.
Three,
The thoughts fade into the mist.
The body is warm and safe.
And one,
Drifting even deeper.
The train now passes a small station called Today.
It slows but it doesn't stop.
Everything from today begins to blur.
The tasks,
The moments,
The feelings,
The small frustrations,
The little unfinished things.
And all the red softens.
All of it softens.
All of it moves behind you now.
Today is over.
So you don't need to keep living it.
And the train passes another station called Tomorrow.
Anything you were rehearsing for tomorrow can stay there on the platform.
Plans can wait.
Problems,
Can we?
People go away.
The future doesn't need you while you sleep.
The train passes one more station called What If.
All those little imagined futures begin to loosen whenever this happens.
What if that happens?
What if I can't?
What have I shut out?
And all of the fades behind the glass.
And the train keeps on moving.
And you,
You're still here.
Stay warm.
Man,
I'm hairy.
Outside the window,
A dark river begins to run beside the tracks.
The train follows the river.
The river follows the train both moving in the same direction.
Well,
Uh.
.
.
WOLCERN and any remaining thought can be placed on that river.
The thought rises place it on the water Let it float away.
A feeling rises.
Place it on the water and let it float away.
A memory,
A worry,
A restless little spark.
Release it on the water and let it float away.
The river doesn't judge.
The river simply carried.
And now you don't need to carry so much.
The drain carries the body A river,
Well,
It carries the thoughts.
The night carries the rest.
And now the train moves so softly it almost seems still.
Wheels are barely making a sound their carriage rarely moves.
The blanket is warm.
The seed is deep.
The night is endless.
So let yourself drift between the words beneath the images.
Beneath the need to know what comes next.
There is no next thing to manage.
Only this breath.
Then the next.
Only this moment and the next.
Only this soft descent.
In January.
Looping.
Deepening.
And tonight you may imagine a quiet valley beneath a deep midnight sky.
The hills are dark.
The air is still.
The star,
The stars are soft and distant.
Through the valley runs a single railway track.
It's silver in the moonlight.
It curves through trees and then disappears into the mist.
And far away,
A small golden light appears.
Why?
Steady and very peaceful.
Is the headlamp of an old midnight train.
I'm sleepy.
A quiet train.
A train that only arrives when the body is ready to stop carrying the day.
You're standing on a small wooden platform in the valley.
No crowds,
No noise,
No rush.
Only the night,
The track.
The mess.
And the saw golden lane is moving closer.
The train approaches slowly.
The sound is gentle.
A lower rhythm along the rails.
Almost like breathing.
Almost like a harpy Closer now.
Soft and steady and calm.
And with every quiet sound of the wheels your body can relax a little more.
The forehead softened.
The eye has saw her.
The jaw loosens.
Shoulders draw.
The hands grow still.
The chest releases The belly softens.
The legs become heavier.
The feet,
Well,
They let go.
The train stops in front of you.
The door is open.
Warm light spills softly onto the platform.
Inside is a quiet carriage.
All world,
Some scenes.
Dim the lamps.
Wide windows looking out into the sleepy valley.
Everything here says rest.
Everything here is as safe.
Everything here says there's nowhere else you need to be.
So you step inside.
Slowly.
Easily.
And you choose the seat by the window.
The seed is soft and deep.
This supports the back.
And supports the shoulders.
And supports the hat.
The arms and legs can rest.
Nothing has to hold itself up anymore.
Nothing has to be carried.
Nothing has to be solved.
And the doors close softly now.
The Lance down.
And the midnight train begins to move.
Very slowly at first,
A gentle pull.
In a quiet way.
A smooth rolling forward into the valley.
The platform slips away behind you.
The day slips away behind you.
The version of you that had to think and answer and plan begins to slip away too.
And the train carries you onward.
Past the dark trees.
And silver grass.
As white hills beneath the stars.
Everything outside the window moves slowly.
Dreamily.
Nothing urgent,
Nothing sharp.
Only the rhythm of travel through the night.
Rolling.
So many.
And drifting.
And because this session loops,
This rhythm can continue as long as you need.
And if you hear these words again.
They can simply take you deeper.
The train will still be moving.
The valley will still be quiet.
And you already know the way.
Now let the body receive permission to rest.
Let the muscles around the eyes loosen.
The eyelids become heavy.
Let the jaw hang loose.
Let the tongue rest.
Let the throes soften.
No need to speak.
No need to even explain.
No need to answer anyone.
So let the shoulders melt down.
As though everything you carry today is sliding away.
Let the arms grow heavy.
A pair of arms.
Four arms.
Rest.
Hands,
Fingers.
Oh,
Quiet now.
All done for the day.
So,
Where did you have sun?
Let the breath move on us all.
Let the belly soften.
Leave the bag,
Saddle.
Let the hips become heavy.
Let the thighs sink in.
And let the knees loosen.
Let the calves rest.
Let the ankles and feet become quiet and warm.
The whole body is now resting in the carriage.
Held by the sea.
Move gently through the night.
Outside the window of the train enters a dark forest.
The branches arch over the track.
Moonlight filters through the trees.
Mist moves low along the ground.
And as the train passes through this forest.
You may imagine the trees taking thoughts from your mind.
One tree will take away.
Another tree takes a blast.
Another taste of memory.
Another takes a conversation you replayed too many times.
Another takes the pressure you don't need tonight tree after tree,
Thought after thought.
Release after release.
You don't need to know what each tree takes.
You don't need to choose.
The deeper mind knows what can wait.
The deeper mind knows what can be set down.
The wheels continue softly along the track.
And you sink a little deeper into the sea.
A little deeper into comfort.
A little deeper into the place between waking and dreaming.
And in a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number the train carries you deeper into rest.
Ten,
The train moves softly through the valley.
Nine,
The body becomes even heavier.
A,
The mind begins to slow.
7.
The outside world moves farther away.
At six,
The breath becomes even quieter.
Five,
Halfway down now.
War.
That carries rocks gently.
Three,
The thoughts fade into the mist.
The body is warm and safe.
And one,
Drifting even deeper.
The train now passes a small station called Today.
It slows,
But it doesn't stop.
Everything from today begins to blur.
The tasks,
The moments,
The feelings,
The small frustrations,
The little unfinished things.
And all of it softens.
All of it softens.
All of it moves behind you now.
Today is over.
So you don't need to keep living it.
And the train passes another station called Tomorrow.
Anything you were rehearsing for tomorrow can stay there on the platform.
Plans can wait.
Problems,
Can we?
People go away.
The future doesn't need you while you sleep.
The train passes one more station called What If.
All those little imagined futures begin to loosen whenever this happens.
What if that happens?
What if I can't?
What if I shut up?
And all of the fades behind the glass.
And the train keeps on moving.
And you?
You're still here.
See?
And carry.
Outside the window,
A dark river begins to run beside the tracks.
The drain follows the river.
The river follows the train.
Both moving in the same direction.
Vol Ha,
Vol Cern.
And any remaining thought can be placed on that river.
The thought rises,
Place it on the water.
Let it float away.
A feeling rises.
While you sit on the water and let it float away.
A memory,
A worry.
A restless little spark.
Please sit on the water and let it float away.
The river doesn't judge.
The river simply carries.
And now you don't need to carry so much.
The drain carries the body A river,
Well,
It carries the thoughts.
The night carries the rest.
And now the train moves so softly it almost seems still.
The wheels are barely making a sound.
Their carriage rarely moves.
The blanket is warm.
The seed is deep.
The night is endless.
So let yourself drift between the words beneath the images.
Beneath the need to know what comes next.
There is no next thing to manage,
Only this breath,
Then the next.
Only this moment and the next.
Only this soft descent.
In January.
Looping.
Deepening.
And tonight you may imagine a quiet valley beneath a deep midnight sky.
The hills are dark.
The air is still.
The star,
The stars are soft and distant.
Through the valley runs a single railway track.
It's silver in the moonlight.
It curves through trees and then disappears into the mist.
And far away,
A small golden light appears.
Why?
Steady and very peaceful.
Is the headlamp of an old midnight train.
I'm sleepy.
A quiet train.
A train that only arrives when the body is ready to stop carrying the day.
You're standing on a small wooden platform in the valley.
No crowds,
No noise,
No rush.
Only the night,
The track.
The mess.
And the saw golden lane is moving closer.
The train approaches slowly.
And sound is gentle.
A lower rhythm along the rails.
Almost like breathing.
Almost like a Harvey.
Closer now.
Soft and steady and calm.
And with every quiet sound of the wheels your body can relax a little more.
The forehead softened.
The eye and saw her.
The jaw loosens.
Shoulders draw.
The hands grow still.
The chest releases The belly softens.
The legs become heavier.
The feet,
Well,
They let go.
The train stops in front of you.
The doors,
All that.
Warm light spills softly onto the platform.
Inside is a quiet carriage.
All work,
Some sins.
Damn the labs.
Wide windows looking out into the sleepy valley.
Everything here says rest.
Everything here is as safe.
Everything here says there's nowhere else you need to be.
So you step inside,
Slowly,
Easily.
And you choose the scene by the window.
The seed is soft and deep.
This supports the back.
And supports the shoulders.
And supports the hat.
The arms and legs can rest.
Nothing has to hold itself up anymore.
Nothing has to be carried.
Nothing has to be solved.
And the doors close softly now.
The Lance down.
And the midnight train begins to move.
Very slowly at first,
A gentle pull.
In a quiet way.
A smooth rolling forward into the valley.
The platform slips away behind you.
The day slips away behind you.
The version of you that had to think and answer and plan begins to slip away too.
And the train carries you onward.
Hence the dark trees.
And silver grass.
As white hills beneath the stars.
Everything outside the window moves slowly.
Dreamily.
Nothing urgent,
Nothing sharp.
Only the rhythm of travel through the night.
Rolling.
So many.
And drifting.
And because this session loops,
This rhythm can continue as long as you need.
And if you hear these words again.
They can simply take you deeper.
The train will still be moving.
The valley will still be quiet.
And you already know the way.
Now let the body receive permission to rest.
Let the muscles around the eyes loosen.
The eyelids become heavy.
Let the jaw hang loose.
Let the tongue rest.
Let the throes of it No need to speak.
No need to even explain.
No need to answer anyone.
So let the shoulders melt down.
As though everything you carry today is sliding away.
Let the arms grow heavy.
Upper arms,
Forearms,
Wrists,
Hands.
Fingers.
Oh,
Quiet now.
All done for the day.
So,
Where did you get started?
Let the breath move on its own.
Let the belly soften.
When the bags settle.
Let the hips become heavy.
Let the thighs sink in and let the knees loosen.
Let the calves rest.
Let the ankles and feet become quiet and warm.
The whole body is now resting in the carriage.
Held by the sea.
Move gently through the night.
Outside the window the train enters the dark forest.
The branches arch over the track.
Moonlight filters through the trees.
Mist moves low along the ground.
And as the train passes through this forest.
You may imagine the trees taking thoughts from your mind.
One tree will take away.
Another tree takes a blast.
Another taste of memory.
Another takes a conversation you replayed too many times.
Another takes the pressure you don't need tonight.
Tree after tree,
Thought after thought.
Release after release.
You don't need to know what each tree takes.
You don't need to choose.
The deeper mind knows what can wait.
The deeper mind knows what can be set down.
The wheels continue softly along the track.
And you sink a little deeper into the sea.
A little deeper into comfort.
A little deeper into the place between waking and dreaming.
And in a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number the train carries you deeper into rest.
Ten,
The train moves softly through the valley.
Nine,
The body becomes even heavier.
A,
The mind begins to slow.
7.
The outside world moves farther away At six,
The breath becomes even quieter.
All right,
Halfway down now.
War.
They carried rocks gently.
Three,
The thoughts fade into the mist.
The body is warm and safe.
And one drifting even deeper The train now passes a small station called Today.
It slows,
But it doesn't stop.
Everything from today begins to blur.
The tasks,
The moments,
The feelings,
The small frustrations,
The little unfinished things.
And all of it softens.
All of it softens.
All of it moves behind you now.
Today is over.
So you don't need to keep living it.
And the train passes another station called Tomorrow.
Anything you were rehearsing for tomorrow can stay there on the platform.
Plans can wait.
Problems,
Can we?
People go away.
The future doesn't need you while you sleep.
The train passes one more station called What If.
All those little imagined futures begin to loosen whenever this happens.
What if that happens?
What if I can't?
What if I shut up?
And all of it fades behind the glass And the train keeps on moving.
And you?
You're still here.
Stay warm.
And carry.
Outside the window,
A dark river begins to run beside the tracks.
The drain hollows the river.
The river follows the train both moving in the same direction.
Walt Hall,
Walt Cern.
And any remaining thought can be placed on that river.
The sun rises,
Place it on the water.
Let it float away.
The feeling rises.
Place it on the water and let it float away.
A memory,
A worry,
A restless little spark.
While you sit on the water and let it float away.
The river doesn't judge.
A river simply carries.
And now you don't need to carry so much the drain carries the body A river,
Well,
It carries the thoughts.
The night carries the rest And now the train moves so softly it almost seems still.
The wheels are barely making a sound.
Their carriage barely moves.
The blanket is warm.
The seed is deep.
The night is endless.
So let yourself drift between the words beneath the images.
Beneath the need to know what comes next.
There is no next thing to manage.
Only this breath.
Than the next.
Only this moment and the next.
Only this soft descent.
In January.
Luffy.
Deepening.
And tonight you may imagine a quiet valley beneath a deep midnight sky.
The hills are dark.
The air is still.
The star?
The stars are soft and distant.
Through the valley runs a single railway track.
It's silver in the moonlight.
It curves through trees and then disappears into the mist.
And far away a small golden light appeared.
Why?
Steady and very peaceful.
Is the headlamp of an old midnight train.
A sleep train.
A quiet train.
A train that only arrives when the body is ready to stop carrying the day.
You're standing on a small wooden platform in the valley.
No crowds,
No noise,
No rush.
Only the night,
The track.
The mess.
And the song Golden Lane is moving closer.
The train approaches slowly.
The sound is gentle.
A lower rhythm along the rails.
Almost like breathing.
Almost like a heartbeat Closer now,
Soft and steady and calm.
And with every quiet sound of the wheels,
Your body can relax a little more.
The forehead softens.
The eyes saw her.
The jaw loosens.
The shoulders drop.
The hands grow still.
The chest releases.
The belly softens.
The legs become heavier.
The feet,
Well,
They let go.
The train stops in front of you.
The door is open.
Warm light spills softly onto the platform.
Inside is a quiet carriage.
All the way.
Some scenes.
Damn lamps.
Wide windows looking out into the sleepy valley.
Everything here says rest.
Everything here is as safe.
Everything here says there's nowhere else you need to be.
So you step inside.
Slowly.
Easily.
And you choose the scene by the window.
The seed is soft and deep.
That supports the back.
And supports the shoulders.
And supports the hat.
The arms and legs can rest.
Nothing has to hold itself up anymore.
Nothing has to be carried.
Nothing has to be solved.
And the doors close softly now.
The Lance,
Yeah.
And the midnight train begins to move.
Very slowly at first,
A gentle pull.
In a quiet way.
A smooth rolling forward into the valley.
The platform slips away behind you.
The day slips away behind you.
The version of you that had to think and answer and plan begins to slip away too.
And the train carries you onward.
Hence the dark trees.
And silver grass.
As white hills beneath the stars.
Everything outside the window moves slowly.
Dreamily.
Nothing urgent,
Nothing sharp.
Only the rhythm of travel through the night.
Rolling.
So many.
And drifting.
And because this session loops,
This rhythm can continue as long as you need.
And if you hear these words again,
They can simply take you deeper.
The train will still be moving.
The valley will still be quiet.
And you already know the way.
Now let the body receive permission to rest.
Let the muscles around the eyes loosen.
The eyelids become heavy.
Let the jaw hang loose.
Let the tongue rest.
Left throat side.
No need to speak.
No need to even explain.
No need to answer anyone.
So let the shoulders melt down.
As though everything you carry today is sliding away.
Let the arms grow heavy.
Up your arms.
Forearms.
Rest.
Hands.
Fingers.
Oh,
Quiet now.
All done for the day.
So,
Where did you get started?
Let the breath move on its own.
Let the belly soften.
Eh,
The bag's settled.
Where the hips become heavy.
Let the thighs sink in Now let the knees loosen.
Let the calves rest.
Let the ankles and feet become quiet and warm.
The whole body is now resting in the carriage.
Held by the sea.
Move gently through the night.
Outside the window the train enters the dark forest.
The branches arch over the track.
Moonlight filters through the trees.
Mist moves low along the ground.
And as the train passes through this forest.
You may imagine the trees taking thoughts from your mind.
One tree will take away.
Another tree takes a blast.
Another takes a memory.
Another takes a conversation you replayed too many times.
Another takes the pressure you don't need tonight.
Tree after tree,
Thought after thought.
Release after release.
You don't need to know what each tree takes.
You don't need to choose.
The deeper mind knows what can wait.
The deeper mind knows what can be set down.
The wheels continue softly along the track.
And you sink a little deeper into the sea.
A little deeper into comfort.
A little deeper into the place between waking and dreaming.
In a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number the train carries you deeper into rest.
10,
The train moves softly through the valley.
Nine,
The body becomes even heavier.
A,
The mind begins to slow.
7.
The outside world moves farther away.
At six,
The breath becomes even quieter.
Five,
Halfway down now.
Poor.
That carries rocks gently.
Three,
The thoughts fade into the mist.
The body is warm and safe.
And one,
Drifting even deeper.
The train now passes a small station called Today.
It slows,
But it doesn't stop.
Everything from today begins to blur.
The tasks,
The moments,
The feelings,
The small frustrations,
The little unfinished things.
And all of it softens.
All of it softens.
All of it moves behind you now.
Today is over.
So you don't need to keep living it.
And the train passes another station called Tomorrow.
Anything you were rehearsing for tomorrow can stay there on the platform.
Plans can wait.
Problems,
Can we?
People go away.
The future doesn't need you while you sleep.
The train passes one more station called What If.
All those little imagined futures begin to loosen whenever this happens.
What if that happens?
What if I can't?
What if I shut her?
And all of it fades behind the glass And the train keeps on moving.
And you,
You're still here.
Stay warm.
Heavy.
And carry.
Outside the window,
A dark river begins to run beside the tracks.
The drain hollows the river.
The river follows the train both moving in the same direction.
Vol-Ha Vol-Cern and any remaining thought can be placed on that river.
The sun rises,
Leaves sit on the water.
Let it float away.
A feeling rises.
Place it on the water and let it float away.
A memory.
I worry.
A restless little spark.
Please sit on the water and let it float away.
The river doesn't judge.
A river simply carries.
And now you don't need to carry so much.
The drain carries the body A river,
Well,
It carries the thoughts.
The night carries the rest.
And now the train moves so softly it almost seems still.
The wheels are barely making a sound.
Their carriage barely moves.
The blanket is warm.
The seed is deep.
The night is endless.
So let yourself drift between the words beneath the images.
Beneath the need to know what comes next.
There is no next thing to manage,
Only this breath,
Then the next.
Only this moment and the next.
Only this soft descent.
In genuine Luffy.
Deepening.
And tonight you may imagine a quiet valley beneath a deep midnight sky.
The hills are dark.
The air is still.
The star,
The stars are soft and distant.
Through the valley runs a single railway track.
It's silver in the moonlight.
It curves through trees and then disappears into the mist.
And far away,
A small golden light appears.
Why?
Steady.
And very peaceful.
Is the headlamp of an old midnight train.
I'm sleepy.
A quiet train.
A train that only arrives when the body is ready to stop carrying the day.
You're standing on a small wooden platform in the valley.
No crowds,
No noise,
No rush.
Only the night,
The track.
The mess.
And the saw golden lane is moving closer.
The train approaches slowly.
The sound is gentle.
A lower rhythm along the rails.
Almost like breathing.
Almost like a harpy Closer now,
Soft and steady and calm.
And with every quiet sound of the wheels,
Your body can relax a little more.
The forehead softens.
The eyes saw her.
The jaw loosens.
Shoulders drop.
Their hands grow still.
The chest releases The belly softens.
The legs become heavier The feet,
Well,
They let go.
The train stops in front of you.
The doors,
All that.
Warm light spills softly onto the platform.
Inside is a quiet carriage.
All the way.
Some scenes.
Damn the lamps.
Wide windows looking out into the sleepy valley.
Everything here says rest.
Everything here says safe.
Everything here says there's nowhere else you need to be.
So you step inside,
Slowly,
Easily.
And you choose the seat by the window.
The seed is soft and deep.
That supports the back.
And supports the shoulders.
And support us with a hat The arms and legs can rest.
Nothing has to hold itself up anymore.
Nothing has to be carried.
Nothing has to be solved.
And the doors close softly now.
The Lance,
Yeah.
And the midnight train begins to move.
Very slowly at first,
A gentle pull.
In a quiet way.
A smooth rolling forward into the valley.
The platform slips away behind you.
The day slips away behind you.
The version of you that had to think and answer and plan begins to slip away too.
And the train carries you onward.
Past the dark trees.
And silver grass.
As white hills beneath the stars.
Everything outside the window moves slowly.
Dreamily.
Nothing urgent,
Nothing sharp.
Only the rhythm of travel through the night.
Rolling.
So many.
And drifting.
And because this session loops,
This rhythm can continue as long as you need.
And if you hear these words again,
They can simply take you deeper.
The train will still be moving.
The valley will still be quiet.
And you already know the way.
Now let the body receive permission to rest.
Let the muscles around the eyes loosen.
Let the eyelids become heavy Let the jaw hang loose.
Let the tongue rest.
Let the throes sop in No need to speak.
No need to even explain.
No need to answer anyone.
So let the shoulders melt down.
As though everything you carry today is sliding away.
Let the arms grow heavy.
Up your arms.
Forearms.
Rest.
And fingers.
Oh,
Quiet now.
All done for the day.
So,
Where are the giant salmons?
Let the breath move on its own.
When the belly softens.
With a back saddle.
Let the hips become heavy.
Let the thighs sink.
Now let the knees loosen.
Let the calves rest.
Let the ankles and feet become quiet and warm.
The whole body is now resting in the carriage.
Held by the sea.
Move gently through the night.
Outside the window the train enters the dark forest.
The branches arch over the track.
Moonlight filters through the trees.
Mist moves low along the ground.
And as the train passes through this forest.
You may imagine the trees taking thoughts for your mind.
One tree will take away.
Another tree takes a blast.
Another taste of memory.
Another takes a conversation you replayed too many times.
Another takes the pressure you don't need tonight.
Tree after tree,
Thought after thought.
Release after release.
You don't need to know what each tree takes.
You don't need to choose.
The deeper mind knows what can wake.
The deeper mind knows what can be set down.
The wheels continue softly along the track.
And you sink a little deeper into the sea.
A little deeper into comfort.
A little deeper into the place between waking and dreaming.
In a moment I'll count from 10 down to 1.
And with each number the dream carries you deeper into rest.
Ten,
The train moves softly through the valley.
Nine,
The body becomes even heavier.
A,
The mind begins to slow.
7.
The outside world moves farther away.
6,
The breath becomes even quieter.
Five,
Halfway down now.
For.
That carries rocks gently.
3 The thoughts fade into the mist.
Two,
The body is warm and safe.
And one,
Drifting even deeper.
The train now passes a small station called Today.
It slows,
But it doesn't stop.
Everything from today begins to blur.
The tasks,
The moments,
The feelings,
The small frustrations,
The little unfinished things.
And all the red softens.
All of it softens.
All of it moves behind you now.
Today is over.
So you don't need to keep living it.
And the train passes another station called Tomorrow.
Anything you were rehearsing for tomorrow can stay there on the platform.
Plans can weigh.
Problems,
Can we?
People go away.
The future doesn't need you while you sleep.
The train passes one more station called What If.
All those little imagined futures begin to loosen whenever this happens.
What if that happens?
What if I can't?
What have I shut out?
And all of the fades behind the glass And the train keeps on moving.
And you?
You're still here.
Stay warm.
And carry.
Outside the window,
A dark river begins to run beside the tracks.
The drain follows the river.
The river follows the train.
Both moving in the same direction.
Walt Hall,
Walt Cern.
And any remaining thought can be placed on that river.
The sun rises.
They sit on the water.
Let it float away.
A feeling rises.
Place it on the water and let it float away.
A memory,
A worry,
A restless little spark.
Please sit on the water and let it float away.
The river doesn't judge.
A river simply carries.
And now you don't need to carry so much.
The drain carries the body A river,
Well,
It carries the thoughts.
The night carries the rest.
And now the train moves so softly it almost seems still.
The wheels are barely making a sound.
Their carriage rarely moves.
The blanket is warm.
The seed is deep.
The night is endless.
So let yourself drift between the words beneath the images.
Beneath the need to know what comes next.
There is no next thing to manage.
Only this breath.
Than the next.
Only this moment and the next.
Only this soft ascent.
In January.
Luffy.
Deepening.
Good night and namaste.
