Sometimes life takes us to places we never expect.
Tonight,
Encounter the wonders of what comes when you leave behind the familiar for something new,
Free of expectations.
You are listening to Lighthouse on Lake Michigan,
A cozy story for sleep.
Immerse yourself in the backstory of the Beacon Inn,
Before indulging in the splendor of a perfect spring day.
Bask in the serenity of a tranquil lake as spring flowers bloom along the shores.
The afternoon leads you to a retreat at a meticulously restored lighthouse that exudes unparalleled charm and luxurious comfort,
Where you witness breathtaking sunset hues reflecting on the water.
As the night descends,
Gentle raindrops cascade upon the lighthouse's tower,
Creating the ideal soundtrack for sleep.
It's time to dream away.
Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary,
A special place where you may feel safe and tended to every night.
I,
Michelle,
Am here to guide you on this journey,
Inviting you to hear my voice as that of a trustworthy companion as you delve into your magical imagination.
As your advocate for peace,
I encourage you to unwind and embrace the exquisite sensation of tranquility as you drift into the realm of dreams.
All concerns and anxieties fade into insignificance.
Every moment going forward invites you to luxuriate in deep relaxation and attentiveness to your needs and desires.
Release the burdens of the world,
The weight of your day,
And any persistent thoughts that interfere with your peace.
You have more than earned a mental holiday tonight.
Let this story take on the fluidity of a dream and tailor every detail to your liking.
I'm just here to open your creative mind as your imagination crafts a recipe of delightful memories and sensations.
If sleep overtakes you,
The soothing details of this story may still influence your subconscious with visions of tranquil dreams.
With your eyes shut,
Feel your eyelids grow heavy,
Shielding you from the outside world and all its demands.
Tension in your body melts like frozen streams,
Giving in to the thaw of spring.
Establish a connection with your body as though greeting an old friend.
Take note of any areas of holding,
Sending a gentle touch of kindness and release.
Breathe in deeply,
Allowing the air to permeate every corner of your being,
Filling your belly.
There's a subtle shift in the sanctuary of your room as night air takes on the essence of a pristine lake,
Fertile earth,
And blooming flowers.
As you exhale in a yawn or sigh or both,
Let the air carry with it the promise of renewal and purity.
Offering a clean slate of dreaming.
This is your time,
Your sanctuary.
Sink deeper into the everlasting support of your bed to prepare for another intentional breath in.
Continue at the right rhythm and pace for you.
With ease,
Breathe a bit deeper than before,
Soothed by the blues of Lake Michigan as they wash over you with sleep-inducing waves.
Open your mouth to yawn or sigh,
Indulging in release and surrender.
Sip in one final breath through pursed lips as though drinking in the essence of tranquil lakeside living.
Your lungs fill with revitalizing oxygen.
And for one last time,
You let out an audible sigh and return your breath to its natural state.
Notice the profound relaxation that permeates your being.
Your imagination is free to roam boundlessly as we embark on a spring retreat where our story unfolds.
It was a cold,
Snowy winter night just past midnight when Nora found herself in the dimly lit basement of Port Authority.
Her life had taken an unexpected turn.
The home she always knew.
Suddenly,
No longer felt like home,
The city was alive.
Times Square full of revelers pouring out of restaurants and clubs well into the night,
Bundling against the cold.
In what would be the last taste of winter before spring arrived.
Nora had no idea where this impulsive decision might lead her.
But with a cancelled summer wedding and a windowless cubicle job that stole her daylight hours with a harsh fluorescent glare,
She knew any choice would offer an improvement.
She approached the ticket window,
Nearly opaque from underground grime and scratches of time,
And bought a ticket for the next bus to leave the station.
It would take her and her life now contained in a ruby rolling suitcase west,
And a nearly two-day journey that gave her time to reflect on her past.
She hadn't been on a bus since an overnight trip in college,
And maybe it seemed nonsensical,
But it brought back the youthful hope she felt back then.
She had been on the bus for a long time,
But she had never been on a bus before.
Nora had spent her entire life calculating risks and plotting out the perfect path,
And in the end,
It simply didn't go as planned.
She was still young enough to stubbornly believe it should have.
As the bus pulled out of the Lincoln Tunnel,
The glittering lights of Manhattan,
The lights that once took her breath away,
Seamlessly faded into dark farmlands as miles passed by,
And she couldn't be more grateful.
As Nora put physical distance between herself and New York,
Each mile unfolding with uncertainty but full of promise,
A recurring dream came to her as the vibrations of the wheels on the highway brought her in and out of sleep.
She saw a lighthouse,
Shining on endless waves in the sapphire cast of a starry night sky.
An East Coaster all her life,
She assumed it was the Atlantic Ocean in her dreams,
Which seemed like a strange vision as she was getting farther and farther away from the coast.
Nora had been dutiful and serious all her life,
A planner and schemer,
With to-do lists and accomplishments.
Her Type A personality led her full speed into the demise of her mental health and came with a high cost of dimming her inner light.
However childish or insane this mission may have been,
Something inside her snapped,
And she simply no longer cared.
There had to be more to life than being constantly responsible and answering every demand but the loud yearning calls of her soul.
They could only be ignored for so long,
And so Nora continued to let fate decide her destination as she disembarked in Kalamazoo.
She happened upon a postcard left on the snow-dusted concrete floor beneath the brick arches of the historic station.
It depicted a charming Queen Anne-style bed and breakfast on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan,
Named the Candle Glow Inn.
By sunset,
Nora found herself on the sprawling wraparound deck of the bed and breakfast,
Knocking on the front door,
With a hope the inn was open during the off-season.
When no one answered,
She wandered around the back of the inn to watch the fiery orange sunlight reflect on the lake and the floating ice that was a day away from thawing completely.
The back of the inn glowed in the enchanting warm light,
And she found the innkeeper,
Francis,
Seated on a bench on the pebbled beach.
Francis sensed her presence and turned,
Meeting her with a kind,
Grandmotherly gaze,
As if she could read Nora's story in her eyes long before the younger woman uttered a word.
Francis smiled and waved her over to take in the sunset together.
Another day done,
Another chapter closed.
Francis was often alone in the winter months,
Running the bed and breakfast with the occasional help from her children,
Who were quite busy raising children of their own.
Nora arrived in perfect timing.
Francis,
Too stubborn to hire full-time support in the off-season,
Somehow found it easy to come to an arrangement and accept Nora's help.
She intuitively knew Nora needed to be there as much as Francis could use a hand.
On the first night at the inn,
Nora discovered an oil painting of a lighthouse hung above the fireplace in the main room.
It very much resembled the lighthouse in her dreams,
Depicting the dark lush blue greens of glittering waves and the celestial sky.
Francis explained her son had painted it as a birthday gift,
As a reminder of decades of boating adventures.
Nora helped through the transitionary period,
Airing out the charming rooms of the inn,
Reorganizing and restocking,
And helping with reservations.
She adapted to the slower rhythm of Michigan,
And the direct,
Yet friendly ways of Michiganders.
One morning,
Settled in the sunroom and enjoying a cup of tea,
Nora leafed through the local newspaper and came upon an auction notice for the lighthouse.
She knew it was meant to be hers,
And so,
With a decade of savings,
She thought would finance a dream wedding and a down payment for a home.
Nora instead invested in the lighthouse,
Pouring her heart and soul into its renovations.
She renamed the lighthouse,
The Beacon Inn,
And when she shared the name with Francis,
In her excited,
Fast-paced New York accent,
The older woman thought she said,
The Beginning.
Only when brochures were printed,
Did Francis find herself in a fit of laughter,
Explaining the misunderstanding.
But for Nora,
It was a beginning,
And Francis became a mentor,
Offering unwavering support and wisdom,
As well as a place to stay when the Beacon Inn shuttered in the winter months,
And Lake Michigan became a mighty,
Moody force.
But today,
On this perfect spring day on Lake Michigan,
It's hard to imagine swells or unpredictable currents,
As the blue-green waters are perfect for navigating.
You sit in the back of a small motorboat with Nora,
As she guides you from the shores of the Candle Glow Inn.
Sunlight dances upon the water's surface,
Casting shimmering reflections that prompt you to hide your eyes behind a new pair of sunglasses purchased at a shop in town.
White gold caps of waves playfully lap against the sides of the white boat,
Creating a soothing rhythm that serenades your journey.
Nora's water-loving pup,
Chance,
Sits at the helm,
With the attentiveness of a sea captain and a royal blue lighthouse bandana wrapped around his neck.
As you glide along the lake,
Historic nineteenth-century homes line the lakeshore.
Standing as silent witnesses to the passage of time,
They are no strangers to the fickle seasons and harsh winters.
Their elegant Victorian facades give glimpses into the past and the prosperity found along Lake Michigan.
The air is filled with the succulent aromas of spring,
A harmonious blend of wildflowers,
The chilly lake water,
And the earthly aroma of the lakeshore.
Light filters through verdant new leaves as shadows dance on the glittering incoming waves.
Each breath you take invigorates your senses,
Rejuvenating your spirit with the seasons unfolding before you.
With optimism,
The days of winter's chill fade into the background,
With the temperate offerings of spring and soon summer.
Sunlight pours over the boat,
As intense as the heat from a car radiator vent blowing directly on you.
Prompting you to shed your hoodie and bask in the gilded light.
Beside you,
Nora's vibrant,
Freckled face beams with joy,
Her hair catching the breeze and taking flight like a banner of freedom.
With passion in her voice,
She speaks lovingly of the lake and its rich history.
Recounting tales of pioneering souls who ventured westward,
Seeking their fortunes in the lumber and shipping industries.
She gives you insights into her own journey,
And how she never expected to be the keeper of a lighthouse on Lake Michigan.
As she speaks,
You can't help but feel a profound connection to this majestic body of water.
Understanding why it has long been a beacon of hope and opportunity for those daring enough to chase their dreams.
Soon,
The lighthouse comes into view.
Its white facade gleams in the late afternoon sun,
Featuring an ebony lookout tower and a scarlet red roof that resembles an acorn cupule or a young child's cap.
The once-abandoned lighthouse,
Now transformed into a bed-and-breakfast,
Offers four unique guest rooms in the tower.
Each room affords a view of the lake and the tall grasses and spring wildflowers that thrive on the three-acre peninsula.
Your trip to the Beacon Inn is a bit unexpected,
Having stayed with Frances at her bed-and-breakfast before.
You only learned about the lighthouse yesterday,
When you overheard guests wishing to extend their stay at the Candle Glow,
But no rooms were available.
You offered to check out early to indulge in a night at the lighthouse bed-and-breakfast.
Nora slows the boat to a stop a few dozen feet from the shore and lowers the anchor so you may enjoy a late lunch or early dinner on the water.
From an old wicker basket,
She removes some of your favorite snacks and dishes.
As you dine,
You dip your fingers into the frigid,
Pristine waters,
Feeling the tingling coolness dance across your skin,
A refreshing contrast to the warmth of the fading sun.
After Chance enjoys a few bites,
He falls asleep on a flannel blanket,
Resting his chin contentedly on the edge of the boat.
The newness of spring reveals itself subtly,
Yet with insistence.
Two baby painted turtles swim to the peninsula.
The size of half-dollars,
They scurry and fight the current,
Building strength with each paddle of their flippers.
The birds have returned,
Singing praises overhead and landing in new nests set in the pine trees and deciduous trees on the peninsula.
And every once in a while,
A largemouth bass breaches the reflective water with a splash.
Each moment spent in this tranquil setting,
As the lake gently rocks the small boat,
Feels like a precious gift.
An opportunity to reconnect with the rhythms of the natural world and its unfolding transition.
As the early evening wanes,
Time slips away despite your reluctance to let go of the tender warmth of the afternoon and your deep desire to stay in this moment forever.
The lighthouse perched on the rocky edge of the peninsula has saved many souls over the centuries,
Guiding vessels that made their way from the Atlantic through the Great Lakes.
The karma of its past,
Like many lighthouses,
Radiates through its storied tower,
Instilling a deep sense of safety and hope.
As Nora worked on its renovations,
She could imagine the lighthouse thanking her for honoring its value long after it had served its intended purpose.
Navigable by the land only when the tide is low,
One may make the three-quarter mile hike along a stony path that winds from the eastern shore of Lake Michigan to the tip of the peninsula,
But travel by boat is more often preferred by most guests.
Nora raises the anchor and expertly guides the boat to the dock where Chance enthusiastically leaps onto the wooden boards.
You gather your belongings,
Ready to embark on the final leg of your journey.
As you ascend the winding path,
Edged by purple-blue forget-me-nots that blanket the earth,
You feel the chill of nightfall on a gentle breeze.
Though you're not far from the popular villages along the shore,
The energy feels so different here.
A bit wilder,
A lot more understated,
And truly quiet.
Other guests,
A family of three,
Play with a frisbee in the grass as the sun becomes a deep shade of gold.
With each step,
You draw closer to the lighthouse,
Trailing behind Chance and Nora to the front door.
As you step through the sleek black door of the lighthouse,
You're enveloped in an atmosphere of rustic,
Chic elegance.
Nora has done her best to bring back to life the trinkets discovered in dusty trunks left in the lighthouse from prior keepers.
Jewel-toned patchwork quilts and knitted chenille blankets adorn cozy seating areas.
Their vibrant hues contrasting beautifully with the mahogany wood-paneled ceilings.
Nooks and crannies,
Each filled with their own unique treasures.
Board games and old books exude character and charm at every turn.
There are enough candles to make it through a season,
And they are placed in sconces,
Brass candlestick holders,
And candelabras throughout the lighthouse.
The interior is flooded with natural light by day,
Thanks to the circular and floor-to-ceiling windows installed during the lighthouse's meticulous renovations.
Crystal suncatchers dance in the light,
Casting prisms of color across the room,
And adding to the enchanting ambience.
Vintage chandeliers hang from wooden beams,
Another auction deal Nora enthusiastically describes winning during the slower off-season.
Ascending the spiral stairs to the guest rooms in the six-story tower,
You're greeted by breathtaking views of sailboats returning to marinas,
Their white sails billowing against the backdrop of sunset skies.
It's a scene straight from a postcard,
And you can't help but feel a sense of awe at the beauty of it all.
After leaving your bags in your room,
You ascend two more flights of stairs to join Nora at the main gallery,
To enjoy tea as the sun begins its descent below the horizon.
The skies erupt in a symphony of color,
With hues of orange,
Pink,
And purple that reflect on Lake Michigan and transform it,
And cast your face in a flattering glow.
A cool shift in the air heralds the arrival of evening,
As Nora pours a steamy,
Light green liquid from a silver teapot,
Filling the air with its minty perfume.
You prepare the tea to your liking,
Soothed by its warmth as your hands grasp the old china cup and sip.
In the distance,
Incoming rain clouds take on the vibrant magenta,
Lavender,
And orange hues of the sunset.
Their dark gray underbellies promise a spring shower.
For some time,
You watch as the colors change and fade,
The wind delivering the clouds at a quickening pace.
The rain shower moves closer,
With steady silver streams that resemble a swarm edging its way toward you.
The lighthouse beacon casts its steady light into the encroaching darkness.
Nora rises to leave,
Inviting you to spend the evening however you would like,
And to feel free to reach out should you need anything.
Her vibrant energy lingering in the air,
You find yourself reflecting on her life story,
As well as the tales of adventurous souls seeking new beginnings on the shores of Lake Michigan.
You feel a gentle stirring,
An awakening of possibilities that exist,
And await your exploration when you step away from the routine of daily living.
Nora's story reveals the upside of the unexpected,
The unimagined dreams that come into being when a dream ends.
Feeling a sense of liberation to do whatever you like.
You linger a bit longer,
Grasping your hands around the cool metal railing of the balcony.
The rain arrives,
Carried on the breeze,
As it lands on your hands and soon caresses your cheeks.
It brings a feeling of aliveness,
Connecting you to the present moment and all its magic.
You can't help but think about the opportunities that lie beyond the safety of your comfort zone.
They need not always be taken,
But just knowing they are there gives a new lens to explore life through.
As the rain patters on the lighthouse,
Creating crazy patterns on the lake,
You allow yourself to think of the possibilities that await.
Perhaps it is time to take more chances,
To seize opportunities that may not be immediately apparent in the mundanity and safety of routine.
This thought warms you within as your heart beams toward the cloudy sky,
As it begins to open,
Shining along with the lighthouse beacon.
With each passing moment,
You feel yourself growing more attuned to the whispers of possibility,
The dance upon the winds that once brought curious and adventurous souls to the shores of Lake Michigan.
The wind whistles around the gallery,
Carrying with it the earthy scent of rain-soaked grass and the invigorating freshness of the lake.
It's a moment of pure tranquility,
A chance to simply be,
With no demands or expectations weighing upon your shoulders.
As you stand there,
Lost in contemplation,
You feel a sense of freedom wash over you.
The night stretches out before you without a plan,
Without requiring much of you.
You could read a book by the fire,
Listen to music,
Or simply watch the rain dance on the surface of a lake.
Eventually,
The allure of warmth and comfort beckons you back to your room.
In one corner,
A small fireplace crackles merrily,
Prepared by Nora,
Casts a warm and inviting glow across the room.
Tiny flickering flames dance in rhythm with a patter of raindrops against the windowpane.
They embark the air with the smell of sweet burning wood.
The centerpiece of the room is an antique canopy bed,
Adorned with a patchwork quilt bursting with the same kaleidoscope of jewel-toned colors found on the first floor.
Against one wall is a stepladder fashioned into a shelf with a collection of vintage nautical artifacts that add to the room's charm,
Each piece a reminder of the rich maritime history that surrounds you.
You notice a telescope propped by the window that will serve more useful tomorrow when the storm has passed.
Rain streams down the glass,
Casting prismatic reflections of the colorful artwork adorning the walls and the orange gold flames in the fire.
You indulge in a hot shower in the tiny yet functional bathroom.
The water cloaks the chill of the spring night in a blanket of comforting warmth.
The scent of fresh chamomile soap fills the air with its rich moisturizing lather.
Like the day on the lake,
Once more you don't want the pleasantries of this experience to end.
With your muscles loosened and tension melted away,
You towel off and slip into your warmest pajamas.
You peer out the tiny oval window in the bathroom,
Concealed behind a small metal gate that reminds you of a birdcage,
And watch as the rain falls harder on the grass and dark waters of the lake below.
You return to the bedroom and gather a coffee table book about lighthouses,
Bringing it to bed with you.
The rhythmic drumming of the rain outside lulls you into a state of blissful tranquility as you turn the thick pages to unveil the lighthouses of the Great Lakes.
A quote in elegant cursive type reads,
We are all like lighthouses,
Giving light,
Guidance,
And hope to others as they navigate their own journeys.
You allow these words to be the last information you take in on this remarkable day as you turn off the lights and get cozy in the dim glow of burning embers.
You allow the dance of the rain to deliver you to slumber,
Drifting with ease into the realm of your dreams.
Finding comfort,
Finding safety,
Finding peace,
Finding sleep,
It's time to dream away.
Good night.
