If your mind is still going tonight,
You've come to the right place.
Maybe it keeps returning to something that happened today.
Something you said.
Something somebody else said.
Something you wish you'd done differently.
Or perhaps it's already moved on to tomorrow.
Planning.
Predicting.
Preparing for things that haven't even happened yet.
Whatever brought you here tonight,
You don't have to make your mind become quiet.
You don't have to force yourself to sleep.
And you certainly don't have to solve your life before you can rest.
For this little while.
You can simply be here.
I'll stay with you.
One human heart speaking gently to another.
There's nowhere else you need to be right now.
Nothing you need to achieve.
No decision you need to make.
No conversation you need to rehearse,
No answer you need to find.
Tonight.
We're going to let the day be the day that it was.
And let tomorrow remain where it belongs.
Tomorrow.
For now.
There's just this moment.
You.
You're bad.
The darkness around you.
The sound of my voice.
And the possibility that.
.
.
Little by little.
Your mind can loosen its grip.
Not because you've finally figured everything out.
But because,
Perhaps,
Everything doesn't need to be figured out tonight.
Sometimes the mind races because it believes it is helping us.
It thinks that if it goes over the conversation one more time.
.
.
It might discover the perfect thing you could have said.
If it thinks through tomorrow one more time.
Perhaps nothing will go wrong.
If it worries hard enough.
Maybe it can protect you from disappointment.
So perhaps.
.
.
There's no need to be angry with your busy mind tonight.
It has been trying to look after you.
It just doesn't realise that its work is finished for today.
You might quietly say to it.
Thank you.
I know you're trying to help me.
But we don't need to do this right now.
We can rest.
And if another thought comes immediately after that,
That's all right.
There's no test here.
No prize for having an empty mind.
Thoughts can come.
Thoughts can go.
You don't have to climb aboard every one of them.
You don't have to follow each thought to wherever it wants to take you.
Of thought.
Can simply be a thought.
Not a protection.
Not an instruction.
Not the truth about who you are.
Just something passing through your mind tonight.
Perhaps one of the gentlest things you can remember.
Is that you're not required to believe every thought you think.
The mind can say.
What if it all goes wrong?
And another part of you can answer.
Maybe it won't.
The mind can say.
I made such a mess of that.
And another part of you can answer.
I was doing the best I knew how to do in that moment.
The mind can say.
I should have known.
And you can answer.
I know more now than I knew then.
The mind can say.
I need to work this out.
And you can answer.
Not tonight.
Not tonight.
Those two words can be very kind.
Not ever.
Not avoidance.
Not pretending something doesn't matter.
Just.
Not tonight.
Because there are very few problems that become easier to solve when you are exhausted in the darkness.
Morning has its own perspective.
Rest has its own wisdom.
And the version of you who wakes tomorrow deserves the chance to meet tomorrow when it actually arrives.
You have carried enough today.
Perhaps nobody else knows quite how much.
There are the obvious things,
Of course.
Do what?
The people.
The responsibilities.
The messages.
The decisions.
But then there is all the invisible carrying.
Wondering if someone is alright.
Wondering if you are all right.
Thinking about money.
Thinking about family.
Thinking about something that might happen.
Thinking about something that already has.
Trying to keep everybody happy.
Trying to make the right decisions.
Trying to be a good person.
Trying not to let anyone down.
That is a lot for one human heart to carry.
So for now.
.
.
You can put some of it down.
You don't have to put it down forever.
I couldn't just.
Place it beside you for the night.
It'll still be there tomorrow if it genuinely needs your attention.
But you don't need to hold it while you sleep.
And perhaps.
There is something in particular circling in your mind tonight.
A conversation.
A mistake.
Or worry.
Something unresolved.
If there is,
You don't have to push it away.
You might simply notice.
Ah.
There you are again.
And instead of following it into another 20 minutes of thinking.
Perhaps.
You can let it sit at the edge of your awareness.
It is allowed to exist.
And you are allowed to rest anyway.
Both things can be true.
Something can be unresolved.
And you can sleep.
You can be uncertain about what comes next.
And you can sleep.
You can have made a mistake.
And you can sleep.
You can be waiting for an answer.
And you can sleep.
Your life does not have to be perfect before you are worthy of rest.
I'd like to give your body a little space now.
Nothing complicated.
No need to breathe in a particular way.
No need to make anything happen.
Just a slow countdown from 10 to 1.
And as we move through the numbers,
Perhaps you can simply notice the places where your body is already being supported.
You don't have to hold yourself up anymore.
The bed is doing that.
10.
Your feet.
Your toes.
They've carried you through another day.
Perhaps they can be completely off duty now.
Nothing to do.
Nowhere to go.
Just one.
And stillness.
Night your ankles and your lower legs.
No need to make them relax.
Perhaps.
Just noticing that they are there is enough.
Supported.
Resting.
Finished for today.
Your knees and thighs.
The big muscles of your legs.
Maybe there's a little more heaviness now.
Maybe there isn't.
Either is fine.
Your body knows how to rest.
Without being instructed every step of the way.
Seven.
Your hips.
And pelvis.
The weight of you settling into whatever is beneath you.
Hell.
Support it.
You don't have to hold everything together here.
Sex.
Your stomach.
Perhaps.
This is a place where worry likes to live.
If there is tightness there tonight.
You don't have to fight it.
You might simply let that part of you know.
You are safe enough to rest in this moment.
I am here with you.
Five.
Your chest.
Your heart.
Working quietly for you without needing your supervision.
Breath coming.
Keep your breath going.
Life moving through you without you having to organize it.
Ooh.
Your hands and arms.
Nothing to hold.
Nothing too tight.
Nothing to fix.
Nothing to reach for.
Just hands that have done enough for one day.
Three.
Your shoulders.
Perhaps they've been carrying things nobody else can see.
Responsibilities.
Expectations.
Other people's feelings.
Your own feelings.
For now.
Perhaps some of that weight can slide away.
Even just a little.
Your neck.
Your jewel.
You're fake.
No expression required.
Nobody to reassure.
Nobody to smile for.
Nothing to say.
Your face.
Can simply be your face in the darkness.
And one.
Your whole body.
Here.
Now.
Supported.
Nothing required of you.
You made it to this moment.
And that's enough.
And if your thoughts have wandered while we were counting,
There's nothing wrong.
That is what minds do.
You haven't failed at relaxing.
You haven't failed at sleeping.
You are simply a human being.
With a human mind.
And perhaps tonight.
We can treat that mind with tenderness rather than frustration.
There's an idea I return to often.
The way we speak to ourselves matters.
The words we repeat inside ourselves become familiar places for the mind to visit.
And if you've spent years speaking to yourself through criticism,
Without fear or worry.
It can take a little time to create a gentler inner voice.
But you can begin tonight.
Not by pretending everything is wonderful.
Not by forcing yourself to believe something that you don't believe.
Just by choosing words that feel kinder.
Safer.
More spacious.
Instead of.
I have to figure this out.
Perhaps.
I can take one step at a time.
Instead of.
Something is going to go wrong.
Perhaps.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring.
Instead of.
I can't cope.
Perhaps.
I only need to meet this moment.
Instead of.
I shouldn't feel like this.
Perhaps.
I'm allowed to feel what I feel.
Instead of.
Why can't I just switch off?
Perhaps.
My mind has been busy because it's trying to protect me.
And now it can rest.
Maybe today wasn't your best day.
You can still be on your own side.
Maybe you said something you regret.
You can still be on your own side.
Maybe you procrastinated.
Lost your temper.
I got frightened.
Didn't get everything done.
Changed your mind.
Ate the thing,
Sent the message,
Didn't send the message.
Stayed when you think you should have left.
Left when you wonder if you should have stayed.
You're still allowed to be on your own side.
Being kind to yourself does not prevent you from growing.
Quite the opposite.
When you stop using shame as a way of trying to improve yourself.
That there is finally room to see clearly.
You can say.
Yes,
I might do that differently next time.
Without adding.
And therefore there is something wrong with me.
There is nothing useful you can gain tonight by putting yourself on trial.
The courtroom is closed.
The witnesses have gone home.
The judge has retired for the evening.
You are allowed to leave too.
And tomorrow.
Tomorrow you can make amends if amends are needed.
You can have the conversation.
You can make the phone call.
You can change the plan.
You can begin again.
You can ask for help.
You can say no.
You can say yes.
You can learn something you didn't know today.
There are so many possibilities that your worried mind cannot see from here.
Fear tends to write tomorrow's story using only today's information.
But tomorrow hasn't been written.
And that is worth remembering.
You do not know what good thing might happen.
And you do not know what conversation might change something.
You do not know what opportunity might appear.
You do not know what you will understand differently after sleeping.
You do not know who might help you.
You do not know what might resolve itself without your intervention.
You do not know how much stronger or clearer you might feel in the morning.
So perhaps tonight doesn't need to be used to predict tomorrow.
Perhaps tomorrow can surprise you.
There's something else you can put down tonight.
The belief that you must control everything in order to be safe.
You never have controlled everything.
None of us has.
And still.
Here you are.
You have come through days you worried about before they arrived.
You have survived conversations you dreaded.
You have adapted when plans changed.
You have found answers after thinking there weren't any.
You have met versions of yourself you hadn't yet discovered.
You have more experience of life supporting you than fear sometimes allows you to remember.
Not always in the way you wanted.
Not always on your timetable.
But somehow.
You have kept moving.
And tonight.
Perhaps you can let life carry a little of the weight.
You don't have to push the river.
You don't have to know where every bend leads.
With these few hours.
You can allow yourself to be carried.
If sleep is beginning to come.
You don't need to stay awake for me.
There's nothing later in this recording that you need to hear.
You won't miss anything.
You can drift whenever your body is ready.
I'll keep talking for a while.
And you can let the words come and go.
And if you're still wide awake.
I'm still here.
There's no hurry.
We have nowhere to get to.
Maybe your mind needs to hear that.
There is no hurry.
You don't have to fall asleep right now.
Sometimes the pressure to sleep becomes another thing the mind tries to achieve.
What time is it?
How tired will I be tomorrow?
Why am I still awake?
And suddenly.
.
.
Sleep.
Has become a performance.
But sleep isn't something you have to perform.
Your body no sleep.
It has been sleeping all your life.
You don't need to teach it tonight.
You can simply give it company while it remembers.
So we can lie here together for a while.
No deadlines.
No target.
No score.
If sleep comes.
Lovely.
If it takes a little longer.
You're still resting.
You're still giving your body some quiet.
You're still allowing the day to recede.
And perhaps.
.
.
The thoughts are a little farther apart now.
Maybe not gone.
Less urgent.
Like voices in another room.
You can hear them.
Which you don't have to answer.
There may be one voice that says.
But what about you?
And you can answer.
Tomorrow.
What if?
Tomorrow.
Don't forget.
Tomorrow.
You need to.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow has plenty of room for tomorrow's thoughts.
Tonight belongs to rest.
And as we move towards the last part of our time together.
I want to leave you with some words to hold you.
You don't have to repeat them.
You don't have to remember them.
You can simply listen.
And perhaps one or two will find somewhere quiet to land.
I have done enough for today.
I can let this day be finished.
I don't need to solve tomorrow tonight.
I am learning to trust myself.
I can meet life.
One moment at a time.
My thoughts do not control me.
I can notice the thought and let it pass.
I am allowed to change my mind.
I am allowed to begin again.
I release the need to have every answer.
It is safe to leave some things unfinished.
I forgive myself.
For not knowing then.
What I know now.
I speak to myself with kindness.
I am on my own side.
I release what I cannot change tonight.
Tomorrow.
Can take care of tomorrow.
There may be possibilities,
I can't see it.
Life can surprise me in beautiful ways.
I can loosen my grip.
I can allow myself to be supported.
My body knows how to rest.
My mind is allowed to become quiet in its own time.
There's nothing I need to prove tonight.
There's nowhere else I need to be.
In this moment,
I am here.
And for this moment.
That.
Is in love.
Perhaps those words can continue quietly somewhere inside you after my voice has gone.
You don't have to work at them.
You don't have to make them true.
Just.
Let them be possibilities.
New thoughts.
Kinder thoughts.
Words that make a little more room inside you.
The old thoughts may come back.
And that's alright.
You have practiced them for a long time.
You don't need to fight them.
You can simply begin choosing again.
And again.
And again.
A kinder thought.
A softer interpretation.
A little more compassion.
For the person you are today.
And a little more trust in the person you will be tomorrow.
Because you're changing all the time.
Growing.
Learning.
Releasing things that no longer fit.
Becoming more of yourself.
And you don't have to complete that work tonight.
So if there is still something you're holding.
Perhaps you can set it down now.
Just for tonight.
You don't have to throw it away.
You don't have to decide what it means.
And put it somewhere beside you.
Tomorrow.
You can decide what to do with it.
Good night.
You deserve to sleep.
You have done enough.
You have thought enough.
You have carried.
Let the unanswered questions remain unanswered.
Let the unfinished things remain unfinished.
Don't let other people have their thoughts and feelings.
Let tomorrow wait outside the door.
You are here.
In this room.
In this bed.
And I'm here with you for these last few moments.
One human heart.
Speaking gently to another.
You don't need to listen anymore.
You don't need to follow my words.
You can let my voice become part of the background now.
Something soft and unimportant.
The day is over.
You don't need to go back into it.
Tomorrow hasn't arrived.
You don't need to go forward into that either.
Those only now.
And now can be quiet.
Now can ask nothing of you.
Rest now.
Not because everything is solved.
Not because you know what tomorrow will bring.
Not because you finally managed to stop every thought.
Rest.
Because you are human and human beings need rest.
Whatever needs you tomorrow can wait.
Whatever needs an answer can wait.
Whatever needs to be fixed.
You can wake up.
For tonight.
You can let your mind finally rest.
I'll leave you here.
Safe in this moment.
Support it.
Enough.
With nothing more to do.
Good night.
