Welcome.
Settle into your most comfortable position,
Warm and cozy.
Let your pillows cradle you.
Let your blankets feel like a quiet meadow at dusk.
They are soft and sheltering.
Close your eyes slowly and inhale a slow breath in through your nose to a count of 4,
2,
3,
4 and a long breath out through your mouth to a count of 6,
5,
4,
3,
2,
1.
Pause here and then breathe in again for a count of 4 and out for 6 and just resume your natural breathing pattern.
Feel your body arrive here.
Your forehead is smoothing.
Your eyes are resting heavy in their lids.
Your jaw is unhooking,
Tongue softening.
Let your shoulders drop as if they remember how to be a shoreline.
The tide is going out.
The muscles are ebbing back into ease.
Relax your arms,
Your hands,
And each finger.
Relax your chest.
Imagine it like a lantern with a calm,
Warm light.
Relax your belly.
Let it be free,
Moving gently with each breath.
Rising with the inhale and letting go with the exhale.
Relax your hips,
Your legs,
Your ankles,
And your feet.
Each of your toes is now loosening like leaves releasing to the evening air.
You are safe.
There is nothing to do.
Nowhere to go.
The night is kind.
Now,
Visualize the hush of a Celtic forest near the sea.
The path is soft with moss and pine needles,
And the air is touched with salt.
Somewhere,
Waves turn over pebbles.
Above you,
The oaks rise like old friends,
Their branches arching to make a great green roof.
And in the last light of dusk,
The leaves hold gold at the edges,
As if the sun has stitched a quiet brightness into each one.
You now step onto a footpath that curves gently through ferns and foxglove.
The evening is warm with summer's memory and cool with night's promise.
Your feet move slowly.
Your breath is easy,
And the world around you begins to settle,
And you settle with it.
As the path bends,
You see a circle of ancient stones on a small rise.
And between the stones,
There is a small fire.
Already,
Its embers are soft,
Just a faint glow like a heartbeat.
And there,
Seated on a smooth stone wrapped in a moss-green cloak,
Sits an elder.
Their hair is silver as moonlight on water.
Their eyes are deep and gentle.
They raise their hand in welcome,
And without words,
You understand.
Come as you are.
Rest as you are.
This night is for peace.
You approach the circle and sit on a cushion of grass.
The earth is warm beneath you,
And the oaks stand like guardians around the clearing.
The elder smiles.
The voice is low and lilting,
Carrying the softness of peat smoke and the clarity of a stream.
Good evening,
Traveler,
They say.
You have come to the right place at the right time.
This is the hour when the forest remembers to breathe,
When birds return to their nests.
The elder looks to the fire,
Then back to you.
Let us bring your breath into the rhythm of this place,
And you will sleep like the stones,
Like the oaks,
Like the sea itself.
The elder lifts a small bundle of herbs,
Meadow sweet and thyme,
And lays them onto the embers.
A faint scent rises,
Like honey and summer rain.
Tonight,
The elder says,
I will give you three simple gifts,
Old as the hills.
The breath of the sea,
The roots of the oak,
And the light of the star.
Hold them lightly,
And they will hold you.
Listen,
The elder whispers.
Somewhere beyond the trees,
The ocean breathes in and out.
It's a lullaby older than any name.
Breathe with the sea,
The elder says.
Let your inhale be a small tide coming in.
Let your exhale be a longer tide going out.
So,
Inhale gently for a count of four,
Two,
Three,
Four,
And a slightly longer exhale for six,
Five,
Four,
Three,
Two,
One.
As you breathe,
The elder continues.
Imagine the sea smoothing every roughness in you.
See the small stones of worry,
The grains of hurry,
Tumbling over and over,
Rounded and softened by patience.
The waves hush.
And with each exhale,
They say,
The wave pulls away the little aches and tightness.
It carries them back into the wide blue ocean,
Where all sharpness dulls and all restlessness quiets.
Inhale a cool,
Spacious breeze now,
As if it reaches you over the dunes,
Clear,
Salt,
Sweet,
And fresh.
Now,
Exhale your day.
Every lingering thought,
Just let it slip away,
Like a footprint at the edge of a tide.
Nothing is asked of you,
The elder says.
Not now,
Not here.
The sea is breathing,
And you are breathing,
And that is enough.
Let your breath continue,
Easy and steady,
A gentle in and a longer out.
For another couple of rounds.
Good,
The elder says softly.
The sea in you knows how to rest.
And just resume your natural breathing pattern.
Now the elder touches the ground with their palm.
Feel the earth,
They say.
It's kind and steady,
And you are held here.
They gesture to the nearest oak tree.
The oak stands because it remembers its roots.
So,
Tonight,
Let your body remember its roots,
Too.
Just visualize roots unfurling from the soles of your feet,
From your heels,
From each toe.
Gentle roots weaving into the earth with no effort.
Roots from your calves,
Your thighs,
Your hips.
These are soft threads of belonging,
Running into the soil that knows your name.
Feel gravity as a blessing,
The elder says with a smile.
It's the earth's way of hugging you close.
Let your weight be heavy and comfortable.
Let your bones rest like smooth stones on a riverbed.
And let your muscles loosen as if warm rain is falling through them,
Washing the day away.
The oak tree does not hurry its growth,
The elder whispers.
It opens ring by ring,
Patient as time.
And so,
You too can let this night add one more ring of rest to your being.
Visualize the earth drawing from you what you no longer need.
Every thread of worry,
Every old weariness.
And it's being composted into something quiet and kind.
As your roots deepen,
Your heart grows light.
And you have nothing to carry,
The earth carries you.
So,
Let's breathe once more with the oak,
A slow inhale and a long emptying exhale.
Feel the support beneath you and just feel how safe it is to let go.
Night has settled now,
It's blue and deep.
Through the leaves,
The first stars begin to shine.
The elder lifts their gaze and you follow it.
Long before we were born,
The stars learned how to be steady.
They shine,
They do not rush.
They only light the night in their quiet way.
So,
Let their gentleness touch you.
The elder opens a small pouch of stars and a few grains of salt into their palm,
Letting them sparkle in the firelight.
See,
Even small lights are enough.
Now you see a star above you,
One that seems to recognize you.
Its light is soft and silver,
Like the hush between two waves.
As you inhale,
Imagine the star's light floating down through the dark,
Resting first at the crown of your head like a blessing.
Now as you exhale,
Feel that light drift down behind your eyes,
Smoothing your brow.
With each gentle breath,
The light travels further.
Your throat,
Your heart,
Your belly,
It's glistening through you like moonlight.
Wherever the light goes,
Your muscles soften,
And wherever it lingers,
Your thoughts get quieter.
The elder says,
Let this light gather in your heart,
And let it say,
You are enough,
You have always been enough,
This night is yours.
Now,
Let what is heavy sleep,
Let what is tender rest.
The stars are keeping what above.
The elder places a small,
Rounded stone into your palm.
It is smooth and cool as river water.
It's a stone for sleep,
Not to keep but to remember.
You too can be simple tonight,
You too can be at ease.
Three gifts I've shared with you,
The sea's breath,
The oak's roots,
The star's light.
When you need them,
They will be where you left them,
Inside your own quiet.
You may sleep now,
You may sleep deeply.
So,
You lie back on the grass.
The earth is a mattress of moss and thyme.
The fire's glow breathes slowly,
Brighter,
Softer,
Brighter,
And softer.
Overhead,
The stars begin to multiply.
They do not hurry,
They appear the way petals open,
Without fuss,
Without noise.
The sea speaks its old language in the distance.
And your breath answers with a soft inhale and a longer outhale,
As if you have always known this rhythm.
Now,
Let's do a counting slow as the moon rise.
10 for the waves,
9 for the oaks,
Your shoulders sink,
8 for the moss,
Your jaw releases a little more,
7 for the stones,
6 for the heather,
5 for the small birds sleeping,
Your breath is calm and shallow,
4 for the lantern of your heart,
It's a soft glow within,
3 for the old songs that know your name,
And 2 for the stars that keep their promises,
And 1 for you.
Your thoughts slow to the pace of leaves drifting on a river.
The river slows to the pace of a cloud.
And the cloud slows to the pace of a stone,
Warmed by the sun that will come again.
Now,
You see the three gifts settling in you as you drift into a deep sleep.
The sea's breath resting in your lungs,
The oak's roots cradling your limbs,
The star's light whispering to your heart.
And now,
You can release your day completely.
If a thought drifts by,
The sea smooths it,
If attention returns,
The roots hold it,
And the star lights gently until it softens and become part of the night.
Sleep traveler,
Sleep in kindness,
Sleep in the old rhythm,
All is well,
All will be well,
Rest.
There is nothing to do,
Nowhere to go,
You are safe.
Shush,
Says the sea,
Hush,
Says the trees,
Breathe,
And release.
The sea,
Hush,
The trees,
Breathe,
And release.
Sleep deeply now,
Under the ancient oaks,
The night is kind,
And it holds you.
Good night,
My friend,
Sleep well,
Namaste.
