Hello lovely human,
My name is Linz and I will be your guide tonight.
Close your eyes,
Take a breath and let yourself rest.
Welcome to the village of flow,
Calm,
Still,
A soothing space for busy minds and tired bodies to rest.
Tonight we are with Luke,
He is waiting for us on the edge of the lantern path,
Just as day is beginning to soften into night.
As always there is no pressure to fall asleep,
Deep rest might be exactly what your body needs.
My voice may drift in and out of your awareness and that's okay,
There's nothing to keep up with here,
Nowhere to get to,
Just allow yourself to rest.
Before we begin,
Take a moment to get comfortable,
Bring your awareness to your body,
Feel into it and notice any areas that may be holding on to tension,
Anything still held from the day gone by.
If it helps,
Give yourself permission to ease out that tension,
Maybe with a gentle stretch or a squeeze and release of the muscles,
A shift perhaps into a different position,
Letting the body find its way into a place that feels right for now.
And when you're ready,
Allow that movement to come to an end,
Letting the body arrive into stillness,
Bring your awareness to the surface beneath you,
Noticing where your body makes contact.
Take a deep breath in,
Gently allow your body to feel held and supported by the surface beneath you,
Letting the bones grow heavy and the muscles soften,
There's no need to hold yourself together anymore,
The surface beneath you is doing that for you now.
Notice the breath,
You may keep it just slow and steady or a gentle inhale for the count of three and an exhale for the count of four,
Keeping the breath soft,
It's just a small lengthening on the way out.
Let the counting give your mind one simple job,
Three in,
Four out,
I will go quiet for a few moments to give you space to experience this mind,
Body,
Breath connection.
We've arrived,
Let's begin.
The village has been full today,
People connecting,
Doors opening,
Coffee cups emptying,
But as the day softens into night,
Something in the air changes,
There's a deeper sense of calm and it's as if the whole village takes a deep breath and gently lets go.
Tonight the lantern paths have appeared,
Those paths are only visible when the village grows dark.
Luke has had the call for calm and is waiting for us at the edge of the village,
Where the lantern paths have begun to glow.
Above him the night sky stretches out like a vast deep indigo ocean,
Infinitely serene.
The beauty of a thousand distant stars scattered like crushed silver across the dark velvet.
The air is cool and crisp against his skin and carrying the faint clean scent of night dew and oak bark,
It smells of home.
With every breath the quiet of the night settles into his chest,
The clutter of the day simply drifts away.
Sitting beneath the stars are the sweeping branches of ancient oak.
The dark intricate lacework of the leaves silhouetted against the heavens.
He listens closely and hears the gentle breeze moving through the foliage.
It creates a soft rhythmic whisper,
A lullaby the oaks have sung for centuries.
Now Luke looks along the winding path ahead,
The lanterns nestled gently beneath the arching canopy of the oak trees.
Tiny warm lights border the trail on either side,
Guiding his way with a soft steady golden glow.
The amber lights spill out over the trail,
Turning the shadows into a safe familiar sanctuary.
He feels the gentle radiating heat of the lanterns drifting through the cool evening air,
Warming the space around him as he walks.
He reaches out and lightly brushes the rough grooved bark of the nearest oak trunk.
It feels solid,
Cool and grounding to his fingertips.
He senses the ancient,
Quiet strength beneath his palms,
Anchoring him,
Keeping everything entirely in the present moment.
The golden light illuminates the trail,
Revealing a rich tapestry of dark soil,
Fallen acorns and the occasional silver grey exposed roots of the great trees.
With each step,
Luke feels the firmness of the ground below,
Perfectly supported by the earth,
Steady,
Heavy and completely grounded.
There's nowhere else to be.
He feels completely present,
Safe,
Wrapped in the quiet embrace of the night.
Eventually the cosy lantern path pub appears like a quiet friend waiting to be greeted.
Its weathered walls of honey-hued stone hold the day's warmth,
Glowing softly as if lit from deep within.
Through the glass he can see the warm,
Welcoming glow of the taproom,
Silvered by the lamplight.
The oak doorway is surrounded by sweet-scented honeysuckle that drapes over the porch,
Releasing its nostalgic,
Soothing perfume into the quiet night air.
Luke pauses for a moment,
Just to look at the pub.
It feels different after hours,
After the social hustle and bustle of friends and family sharing laughter and creating memories has died down.
Like a lantern of peace in the middle of the village.
He notices the way the light spills out onto the cobbles in soft amber pools,
Quietly inviting him in.
Luke places his hand on the heavy oak door,
The wood still holding some warmth from the day.
As the door opens,
The scent of dried hops and polish greets him.
The click of the latch behind him signals that the day is now done.
The air inside is still,
And it carries the comforting weight of a thousand conversations.
Luke stands there for a moment,
Letting the silence wrap around him like a soft blanket.
The cosy pub is his sanctuary,
His home,
The dream he built in his heart and mind.
He moves slowly,
Giving the bar a little care,
A slow,
Mindful tidy,
A gentle wipe of the bar top,
Tucking the room away for the night.
He turns to the nearest table,
Slowly reaching out,
His fingers trail lazily over the polished wood.
He straightens a small stack of beer mats,
Aligning their edges until they sit flush with one another.
Four,
Three,
Two,
One.
Stacked perfectly on top of each other,
A soft smile creeps into the corners of his lips.
He finds a stray book tucked down the side of one of the chairs.
He picks it up.
It's heavier than he expected.
The cover is a deep forest green,
The edges gently rounded and softened by time.
With delicate fraying at the corners where the leather has given away over decades.
The title reads,
Conversations with Our Older Self.
It's stamped and faded,
Flaking gold leaf that catches the dim lamplight.
The pages are thick and matte,
With a soft fibrous,
Almost fabric-like quality,
Gentle to the touch.
He stops at page 44 and reads the words slowly,
As if whispering them into the stillness.
The ink says.
Sometimes the mind keeps turning things over,
Trying to make sense of what's already gone.
But those thoughts aren't really answers.
They're just the body asking to be heard.
So for a moment,
Just let there be a pause.
A quiet kind of pause.
Where thinking can soften and the body can finally relax.
He traces each word with his thumb as they land in his heart and soften his belly.
The weight of the wisdom making him feel lighter in mind and calmer in body.
Luke closes the book,
Holding it against his chest,
Letting the words sink deeper and deeper into him.
He carries it with him as he moves towards the back of the taproom,
Where a large,
Well-worn leather-hug chair waits by the low,
Glowing embers of the fireplace.
He places the book onto a small wooden side table and sinks himself into the leather.
It's soft.
It's held hundreds of people,
Worn but comfortable,
Holding the warmth of the room.
He reaches for a heavy knitted quilt,
The colour of deep burgundy,
And draws it up over his lap,
Over his chest,
Right up to his chin.
The gentle heat of the fire drifts over him,
Mingling with the scent of old paper and wood smoke.
He feels the comforting weight of the quilt wrapping him in a soft cocoon of safety.
With every breath,
He feels the support of the deep chair holding him.
The weight of the quilt feels like a long,
Steady hug.
And as it settles over him,
A deep,
Unhurried exhale leaves his body.
As Luke rests there,
He notices the crown of his head begin to soften,
As if the embers of the fire are warming the top of his scalp.
The muscles in his forehead and temples relax.
His eyes resting back into their sockets,
So all of the muscles around the eyelids relax.
His jaw releasing all the thoughts his mind has now forgotten.
That deep sense of letting go travels slowly down through his shoulders,
Upper arms,
Lower arms,
Wrists,
Palms of his hands,
And fingers.
His back releases deeper into the chair.
His upper back,
The shoulder blades,
The space in between the shoulder blades.
The middle of his back can all of the muscles wrapped around his spine and his lower back.
And his chest and belly gently rise and fall with the slow rhythm of his breath.
His hips sink deeper.
His legs grow heavy.
Upper legs.
Lower legs.
The tops of his feet.
The soles of his feet.
And all of his toes melting into the well-worn cushions of the large leather hook chair.
Luke has finally fully arrived.
He is part of the stillness of the room.
His mind has finally quietened,
Comforted by the soft crackle of the last embers of the fire.
Time moves differently here.
Minutes could have passed.
Maybe even hours.
But that doesn't matter anymore.
Everything has softened.
He reaches for the table side lamp.
The light fades into a warm amber glow.
Leaving the room in a soft,
Deep amber hiss as he drifts off into a deep scent of rest.
I am going to drift away now.
But you stay where you are for as long as you need.
Or simply drift.
And if sleep comes,
That's okay.
Rest well,
Lovely human.
