Welcome to this program Peaceful Night.
I'm Florence Lamouret.
I'm French and I'm very happy to dedicate my life to diffuse all what we can do to be in peace,
In peace inside us and in peace outside us.
So happy to give a place to inner peace and outside peace.
I invite you to take the position you like,
To not hesitate to move,
To not hesitate to do exactly what you need.
I've written this story to share all the love I have inside myself,
All the softness I could have and share.
Take a long breath in and a long breath out,
Something like that.
There was so much that people called her.
Her smile was so bright that the faces around her found their own smile again.
As they suddenly remembered a forgotten warmth.
People said she had a softness that felt safe right away.
When she walked into a room,
Voices became softer,
Movements slowed down and something in the air turned to love.
She grew up surrounded by the bright reputation.
For her,
It was simply her way of being.
Her bright reputation was just on the air.
She felt deeply connected to the world,
As if a secret conversation was always happening between her heart and nature.
She knew the endless variety of flowers,
Their colors,
Their shapes,
Their scents,
Sometimes very light,
Almost invisible.
She took flowers,
Crocus and iris,
Opened with the first light of the day,
And closed again when shadows grew longer.
She loved watching the sky.
She loved watching the sun playing hide and seek behind the clouds.
Oh,
How the sun fascinated her.
Oh,
She loved to see the sky.
She watched it from the window.
Just a few seconds were enough for her to feel happy,
Simply by looking at it,
By feeling it,
Even while it was still wet.
She felt as the earth recognized her.
She felt as the sun was working with her.
She felt as the air,
The ones when she felt more alive.
No effort,
No answer,
No usefulness.
She simply breathed and something inside her found.
And while you listen to this story,
You can simply let your body find all by itself the position that allows it to relax.
Relax,
Relax,
Relax,
Relax a little more with nothing to do.
Andine listened to people the same way she watched plants.
She paid attention on changes in the voice,
To silence,
To hesitant gestures.
When someone spoke to her,
She became available.
Checking gently if it was all silence made others feel fully welcomed.
She shone when she felt useful,
In a presence that was right,
In the right place,
At the right time.
She's got a sense of balance,
To or not to the other one.
This of balance felt natural to her.
She shone like the sun during the day,
Because she knew how to rest.
She shone with a warm inner light,
How to rebuild the strength she gave to others.
She knew how to recharge through soft air,
Moving clouds,
Beauty of flowers and you on her feet.
Maybe you already notice how your breathing can be almost as if it knows exactly when to go deeper,
Deeper,
Deeper and when to rest.
As she grew older,
Andine slowly understood that she carried a spark of the sun in her heart.
The feeling became clearer and clearer,
A soft living warmth inside her.
She understood that this spark gave her the ability to warm others.
This spark was not hers to keep,
It had been given.
It had been given to her through attention,
Through welcoming,
Through presence,
Without knowing it.
Every evening,
When the sun went down on the horizon,
Andine gave the spark back.
The gesture was not conscious,
It happened because she relaxed.
It was an old agreement,
A natural cycle.
The day let her the light,
And the evening took it back,
So the night could be truly dark.
In this silent exchange,
Everything was right.
She slept deeply,
Woke up renewed,
And the flame returned fresh and balanced.
And while a part of you understands this story,
You can allow your unconscious mind to keep what is right for you and use it later.
Little by little,
Something went out of balance.
Life became heavier,
More demanding.
Her work asked for more,
Her family too.
Worries about the world entered her thoughts in justice,
Urgency.
Unwondered questions,
Andine continued to give,
To listen,
To support.
Without noticing,
She began to forget the evening gesture.
Slowly,
Without relaxing,
She kept the spark inside her.
As if she had to stay available,
As if she had to stay alert and bright all the time.
The first signs were subtle.
A strange tiredness that did not go away with rest.
An impatience she did not recognize as her own.
A feeling of inner heat that no longer warmed,
But tightened,
Pressed.
She felt full,
Invaded,
As if something was burning with no way out.
One evening,
As the sun was slowly setting,
Andine felt a dull boom in the center of her chest.
She stopped.
In front of her,
The sky turned orange,
Pink,
Purple,
As it did every evening.
But this time,
The beauty did not calm her.
She felt strangely out of rhythm,
As if she had missed an important meeting.
She could let images come at their own pace.
Some very clear,
Others more blurred.
Because your mind knows exactly what it needs right now.
And while the story continues,
You can allow unnecessary thoughts to drift away,
Gently.
Like clouds that no longer need your attention.
The next moment was when she saw her.
A very old woman was sitting at the edge of the road.
She was almost invisible.
Her hair was silver,
Moved by the wind.
Her hands were covered with soil.
From her feet grew unknown plants.
These plants opened their leaves as the day was ending.
As if the night was calling them.
The woman looked up and said softly,
You burn because you no longer look at the morning dew.
You burn because you forgot the joy of watching clouds.
You burn because you forgot the pleasure of seeing sun.
You burn because you no longer lie down.
You burn because you no longer return the spark to the sun.
And while one part of you understands this story,
You can allow your unconscious mind to keep what is right for you and use it later.
Ondine stood still.
She did not know how this stranger woman knew her forgotten joy so precisely.
The woman said her name was Silva.
She was the guardian of cycles.
She watched over the sleep of women and men,
Whether present in the body or in spirit.
She watched over the plants that open their flowers only when the sun is gone.
She explained to Ondine that some flowers die if they are forced to stay open.
She explained to Ondine that the crackling of the fire in her heart is the place to stay.
She explained to Ondine that constant light is a form of violence.
She explained that Ondine had to take care to return her spark.
She explained that one can open only if one knows how to close.
She explained that listen to the crackling of the fire is a place where she can put back the spark and find peace.
Peace.
To allow relaxation and sleep.
Silva's words were simple.
Silva's words were gentle.
Silva's words were true.
Ondine understood that she had broken the cycle,
That she had held back what needed to move.
The spark was not meant to be owned.
The spark was meant to be shared.
The spark was meant to be returned,
Trusted to the night so it could be reborn.
Ondine understood that she can trust the crackling of the fire,
That she can feel at her place on the crackling of the fire.
That she can rest peacefully,
Softly in the crackling of the fire.
Tears came,
Slow and silent.
For the first time in a long while,
She allowed herself to carry nothing.
She breathed in deeply,
And then breathed out life.
Each evening,
Each night,
As an ally,
A guardian of the night.
