Welcome to your Sleep Sanctuary.
I'm so glad you're here.
Tonight,
There is nothing you need to do.
Nowhere you need to be.
You've arrived.
You've arrived.
Not to accomplish anything,
But simply to rest.
This space is yours.
Your Sleep Sanctuary.
A place where effort dissolves.
Where your breath leads the way.
And where stillness gently opens its arms to hold you.
You are not here to force anything.
You are here to soften.
To settle.
To be.
As we begin this evening's journey,
You may notice your body already starting to respond.
As if it's been waiting for this permission.
The permission to let go.
To listen inward.
To rest deeply without needing to prove or achieve.
And when we allow ourselves to rest in this way,
Something subtle and beautiful happens.
The nervous system begins to shift into restoration.
The breath slows.
The heart softens its rhythm.
And your whole being begins to return to its natural,
Wise pace.
This is the gift of non-doing.
This is the gift of allowing sleep to find you,
Instead of trying to find it.
Let's begin together.
Take a slow,
Gentle inhale through the nose.
And let it spill softly out through the mouth.
Like a breeze passing through tall grass.
Let's do that again.
A full,
Easy breath in.
And a soft,
Quiet breath out.
One more time.
Inhaling as if gathering calm from the air itself.
And exhaling like a whisper disappearing into the night.
Now letting the breath move on its own.
No control.
Just a quiet tide.
Moving through you.
Now imagine yourself standing at the edge of a wide open field.
It's dusk.
The sky above is deepening.
Not quite night,
But no longer day.
Shades of indigo and silver stretch across the horizon.
And the stars are beginning to blink into view.
One by one.
The field stretches out like a soft,
Endless blanket.
Tall grass swaying in the breeze.
Glowing gently in the moonlight.
There is no path to follow.
No destination ahead.
Just the invitation to walk slowly.
And let the night carry you.
With each step you take,
Something in you begins to loosen.
The body lets go of its alertness.
The mind begins to quiet.
You feel the soft earth beneath your feet.
Cool.
Steady.
Welcoming.
You are not hurrying.
You are simply arriving.
Moment by moment.
As you walk,
You notice your senses begin to dim.
Like lamps being turned low.
The eyes,
Though closed,
Soften deeper into stillness.
The muscles around them relax.
No longer scanning.
No longer guarding.
The jaw releases.
The tongue rests heavy behind the teeth.
Your shoulders drop just a little more.
As if remembering that they no longer need to carry the weight of the day.
Your hands unclench.
Your arms grow heavier.
Your entire body begins to feel unguarded.
Not slumped.
Not collapsed.
Just simply at ease.
There's a soft awareness that you're no longer moving through the world.
But being moved by it.
Carried by something quieter than thought.
Gentler than effort.
In the distance,
You hear the trickle of water.
A small stream weaving through the edge of the field.
Its voice is round and smooth.
Like time slowing down.
Like memory softening into mist.
You follow the sound.
Not because you have to.
But because it feels good to move that way.
And soon,
You come upon a place where the stream bends around a wide patch of moss.
Tucked beneath an old tree.
Its roots curled like sleeping animals in the earth.
You sit there.
Or maybe you lie down.
There is no wrong way to rest.
Above you,
The stars have multiplied.
Spilling across the sky in gentle constellations.
Not needing to shine brightly.
Just being there.
It's enough.
Everything here asks nothing of you.
You are not being measured.
You are not being observed.
You are not being tested.
You are simply being.
Let this thought settle in you like warm tea.
You are allowed to rest.
Even if nothing is finished.
Even if the day felt messy or incomplete.
Even if your mind is still a little busy.
This moment,
This exact one,
Is enough.
And now,
As you lie here by the stream.
With the hum of the earth beneath you.
And the hush of the sky above.
We'll let a few soft thoughts move through the mind.
Not as instructions.
But as invitations.
Gentle reminders.
Like a friend's hand resting lightly on yours.
So allowing these words to drift through your awareness.
There's no need to repeat them.
Just let them arrive.
Like stars showing up in the sky.
Without trying.
I am allowed to rest.
There is nothing I need to do.
My breath knows the way.
My body remembers how to let go.
Stillness welcomes me.
Sleep is not something I chase.
It finds me when I'm ready.
I do not have to earn this rest.
The night holds me just as I am.
I am safe.
I am softening.
I am breathing.
I am home.
And now we will begin our descent into even deeper calm.
There's no path to walk now.
Only the breath to follow.
Each inhale,
A feather lifting.
Each exhale,
A feather falling.
Allowing yourself to drift downward.
As if floating on warm air.
Lighter with each breath.
Quieter with each number.
Inhale,
Feather rises.
Exhale,
Feather falls.
Ten.
Allowing the body to melt just a little more.
Nine.
Nothing to fix.
Nothing to chase.
Seven.
The sky is wide and forgiving.
Six.
The earth holds you completely.
Your mind unwinds.
Four.
Your breath slows.
Three.
Stillness gathers around you.
Two.
You are whole.
You are held.
One.
No more words are needed now.
Just the night.
Just the breath.
Just the deep and silent permission to rest.
Until sleep finds you.
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