Fall into a deep sleep tonight as you listen to this relaxing bedtime story and guided meditation for adults.
You are listening to Winter Holiday in the Cotswolds.
In this sleep story you travel to the charming Cotswolds during the holiday season.
With snow-dusted pastures and golden limestone villages untouched by time,
You tap into the magical energy of this beloved place.
The iconic Honeyhute dwellings emit the warmth and color of lost sunlight in the darkest winter months.
From holiday markets to cozy shops,
You relish the seasonal festivities as snow lightly falls.
After a day of exploration,
You retreat to a historic inn that feels like a home away from home.
You enjoy an evening by the fire before falling asleep.
It's time to dream away.
I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and as you listen,
Imagine my voice as that of a dear friend and guide.
I am here to remind you of your ability to self-soothe and of the sacred time for respite.
Every night you may do whatever makes you feel most comfortable,
Loved,
And safe before falling asleep.
All concerns and unpleasant thoughts may be cast aside so you can focus on feeling good.
You may wipe away the slate of yesterday and should you be holding on to even more than one yesterday.
You may work towards wiping away all that no longer serves you from the chain of yesterdays.
Be present to this special moment before you cross over the bridge to your sleeping life.
In the comforts of sleep,
Your dreams and hopes may guide you to the promise of a new beginning tomorrow.
Customize as we go and feel free to enjoy the meditation or skip ahead to the story.
You know what you need most.
Trust yourself.
And if sleep comes before the story ends,
You may always return and listen in the future.
For the enthusiasm of a child,
Let your body enjoy the anticipation that comes from getting cozy and snuggling into your bed.
Enjoy your room as though it is a sanctuary.
It is a place you may go and be free from the outside world.
Here you may celebrate all parts of yourself.
Sink your head into your pillows.
Let your body become heavy and feel how tired you are right now.
Release and align every nook and cranny and every joint and curve of your physical body as you sink into the softness of your bed and get as comfortable as you can,
Letting go.
Take in a huge sip of healing air and imagine as the oxygen travels through all parts of your body that it carries this message.
Relax.
Open your mouth into a yawn to signal it's okay to be sleepy and let your guard down.
Exhale in a sigh and make a sound if it feels right.
Take in another delicious inhalation.
The air travels to the deepest cavern of your lower abdomen until it rises.
Your belly and chest follow until you cannot sip in any more air.
You yawn and the air comes out in a relaxing sigh and you let go.
You may take another deep breath and sigh if you would like and then return your breathing to normal.
It's time for the story to begin.
The Cotswolds have long been a destination for travelers near and far and the region is home to the oldest English inn.
Known for its rolling meadows and winding rivers,
The centuries old honey-hued limestone buildings bring a picturesque quality to the bucolic villages.
One village has remained undeveloped since the 1600s and gives credence to the notion that you can visit the Cotswolds and travel through time.
The changes brought from each season magnify the beauty of the area in varying ways,
But the cozy aspects of small villages are best enjoyed when the weather is less amenable.
You arrive one day in December,
At a time when the holiday festivities and lights are in full gear.
Lush green wreaths decorated with garnet velvet ribbons and pops of color to the wooden doors of the Golden Residences.
A holiday tree is in the center of the village and trimmed perfectly and made festive with colorful metallic ornaments and red,
Blue,
And green holiday lights.
The gold filaments of Edison bulbs strung across the edges of thatched roofs and holiday market stalls bring an old world feeling.
The village twinkles in the late afternoon as the grip of winter's darkness takes hold.
Flurries fall on a hand-knitted wool cap that you purchased from a local stall in Nowhere.
Decorated with a snowflake design and red pom-poms,
It may not be your typical choice,
But the purchase felt festive and fun on this day meant for celebration.
And travel like this brings you the playful freedom to try things that stray from the norm.
The ivory ear flaps are soft and keep your ears from turning red in the cold.
Your boots grip the cobblestone walkway along a river that reflects the holiday lights like an oil painting in a gallery.
You smile and take in a deep breath.
The air smells like snow,
Holiday treats,
And wood smoke.
The soothing aroma conjures thoughts of baking in a cozy kitchen,
Nestling by a fire and building snowmen in a field.
Fragrances like this become medicinal as they land in your olfactory hub and become a portal to pleasant memories.
This day more than most makes you realize how an evocative smell can all at once become a feeling.
In this moment,
The air smells like happiness and fun.
Every village in the Kotswalds boasts its own seasonal offering.
Baking ponds and small boutiques are populated with visitors who fill the air with laughter and animated conversation.
Musicians and carolers perform on tiny streets beneath icicle lights strung across the way like clotheslines connecting limestone townhouses.
In a nearby castle,
Purple,
Pink,
Blue,
Green,
And red lights beam on the towering walls,
And every tree and shrub in sight drips in shimmering holiday lights.
Patrons pour into pubs where friends and family gather over hearty meals in the warm glow of the family-run businesses.
There is a neighborly feel.
And while most are strangers or travelers from elsewhere,
You cannot pass by without someone wishing you a good evening or saying hello.
The novelty of being a traveler,
Free to reinvent yourself and heed to your every whim,
Is balanced on this journey with a feeling of being home and welcome.
The rolling meadows outside the villages,
In particular Kotswald Way,
Are covered in fresh snow and conjure thoughts of gigantic marshmallows.
The local sheep,
With their wool overgrown for winter,
Calmly roam the fields after an afternoon spent frolicking and playing in the fresh powder.
The very hat you wear came from a local sheep farm and was made by a teenaged girl who loved the sheep-like family.
A few children pack snowballs on a lane that leads to the holiday markets.
The snow is still too light and fluffy to properly stick together,
But they try anyway.
When launched,
Their snowballs quickly erupt like a dandelion clock scattering the path.
The children laugh and run ahead,
So caught in the present moment that you are inspired.
For at that age,
It's easy to get lost in the splendor of the now.
You approach the Christmas market,
Where dozens of stalls form rows of delightful offerings.
Old-time candy sticks and English toffee are sold at one.
Partisan stalls sell paintings of the English countryside and homemade candles.
Some candles contain dried lavender and wildflowers from the summer meadows,
While others are in season and contain evergreen sprigs.
Tins and wooden boxes of tea are wrapped in fancy ribbons and sold along with hand-painted teapots.
A family sells wool sweaters,
Socks,
And mittens that are dyed and knit at their local sixth-generation farm.
You can sense the passion and love put into the diverse items being sold by the sellers at the market.
When one buys a handmade soap,
One is not simply buying an object.
They are buying a story,
Supporting a legacy,
And helping the new generation continue with traditions.
The same is true for every gift and item crafted for the festival.
You walk by a dairy stand that sells eggnog and glass milk jugs,
And perfumes the air with nutmeg.
Farmstead sheep milk cheeses are carefully packaged and available to sample.
Your walk through the market is fully immersive as you waft through feelings and memories that are nurturing and inspiring.
You feel uplifted being around people who do what they love.
Holiday trees and wreaths are sold at the edge of the market.
There is a table set up and a wreath making class is about to begin.
A middle-aged woman named Anne approaches you when she notices you are looking on with intrigue.
She says you are welcome to join in as there is one open spot.
It feels like the perfect way to end your stroll through the market.
Other travelers surround the wooden table to partake in the class.
Vibrant jewel-toned velvet and sparkling gold and silver ribbons drape down the edge of the table.
Dried holly and juniper berries and pine cones are piled high between the stacks of Frasier fir,
Cedar,
And white pine branches.
Anne gives you a circular metal frame and instructs the group on how to weave the branches properly.
You inhale the wintry air that feels mentholated and cleansing from the aroma of the fresh evergreens.
A basket is filled to the brim with holiday ornaments,
Some whimsical and fun while others are classic and round.
You notice the blue tint to the Frasier fir and the varying textures of the evergreen needles.
Some are waxy,
Blunt,
And strong while others are willowy and delicate.
Like the children in the snow,
You are lost in the moment.
Time escapes you.
You focus on the creative and meditative process of bending and forming the branches into a wreath.
You select the ribbons and decorations that appeal to your sensibilities.
It's an exercise in remembering how empowering it is in life.
When you are given the free will to choose what brings you the most joy.
Perhaps it has been some time since you last appreciated this feeling.
It's wonderful.
And the dozen or so others who work around you are equally caught up in their creations,
Occasionally murmuring to a beloved,
Or emitting a sound of contentment when they find something that works just right.
You are so entranced by your wreath that you fail to notice when your nose and cheeks begin to prickle from the drop in temperature.
As you complete your wreath,
You feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.
You smile having enjoyed something so deeply in an unexpected way.
Anne showers compliments on everyone.
And in her tone,
It is obvious she is genuine and enjoys the class as much as everyone who has attended.
You pay her for the wreath and she wishes you the happiest of holidays.
She places a peppermint candy cane in your hand.
You walk through the village with the wreath balanced in the crook of your elbow.
It may not seem possible,
But carrying this festive decoration stirs an even greater outpouring of kind hellos and seasons greetings from people you pass.
You place the candy cane in your mouth and feel the mint tingle on your lips and tongue as they become bright red from the vibrant stripes.
The lively sounds of the heart of the village become quieter as you make your way towards the inn.
Holiday bells jingle when the doors of pubs and a bookshop open and close.
The sky is a smoky black and makes the sparkling holiday lights become dreamy as small halos form around the bulbs in the damp crisp air.
Snowflakes fall and kiss the angled roofs and dust the cobblestone sidewalk.
You feel the history of the village rising up from the earth with each step.
It carries an enduring spirit that has weathered centuries and yet still remains.
And you have weathered so many challenges in your own life and still remain.
The Cotswolds is a magical place to connect with resilience.
The countryside and villages have also played a significant role in unlocking the brilliant imaginations of writers.
Jane Austen and Lewis Carroll,
J.
M.
Barry and J.
K.
Rowling.
Their stories come to mind as you think of Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan's Neverland.
You look around and can see the magic in the air and the reflective specks of oversized snowflakes that fall around you like a shower of celestial stars.
The hardest aspects of life soften in the glow of the mystical and imaginative.
The ugliness of life may be transformed into beauty by the power of storytelling,
Hope,
And a sprinkle of holiday magic.
As you walk a narrow lane that leads up a hill to the inn,
You reflect on the powerful hand that creates the story of your life.
You realize that hand is your very own.
And it is in the Cotswolds that you recognize that your mind may find beauty and joy in the mundane and recognize how it outshines all the challenges that come your way.
It is a choice that is always yours.
Your winter coat brushes against a limestone cottage and removes a light dusting of snow.
Even in the darkness of a wintry night,
The honey-hued and warm stone shines without sunlight and draws your attention.
You stop and remove your glove to place your bare hand on the cold textured stone.
You run your fingers across fossils formed by broken shells and sea urchins and realize that strength prevailed.
You have more in common with the lustrous stone blocks of the Cotswolds than you could have imagined.
You are a living mosaic of memories,
Experiences,
And connections that have happened throughout the history of your life.
You feel the history of the village wash over you,
Just as the history of your life washes over you,
And reminds you that like these wondrous cottages,
You are still here.
You put your glove back on and continue on your way.
Snowflakes melt on the tip of your nose and land on your eyelashes,
And you feel the coldness settling in your body.
Rather than bemoan the cold,
You simply experience the wintry chill without judgment.
It provides a contrast that will deepen your appreciation for a warm night at the inn.
The challenging times in life are fleeting moments,
And more easily navigated when you recognize that moments of splendor,
Comfort,
And peace will return in time.
Christmas trees glow within the cottages that pepper the lane,
And plumes of smoke rise out of the chimneys and fragrant the air with the smell of burning wood.
It is so quiet you can hear the sound of snowflakes landing on your coat,
As your boots crunch on the fallen snow on the path.
You inhale and exhale.
Your breath condenses and forms a cloud before you.
You recall how peculiar it was the first time you saw your breath.
The condensation reminds you that things may exist all around you,
But not always be visible.
A sharp wind whips around the cottages,
And you embrace yourself in a hug,
Rubbing your hands over your arms.
You approach a familiar long driveway that leads towards the inn.
You have been here before,
But you felt the sense of deja vu even on your first visit.
It made you wonder if you had been here in a dream or a past life.
Or had it been your imagination,
Looking at photos with a deep longing to visit,
Perhaps that created a story in anticipation that made the inn feel so familiar.
Whatever the explanation,
It does not matter,
So much as the feeling and sense you get that the inn feels like home.
Your calf muscles and legs become alert to the incline,
And you relish the enervating soft burn in them as you climb up the hill.
Again,
The promise of rest and warmth offer hope and reprieve from the contrast of the cold.
The inn is aglow in holiday lights that line the perimeter of the dwelling.
Cold light straped down from the roof,
And in every one of the dozens of windows,
A flickering electric candle glows.
The grandest wreath you have ever seen hangs on the front door.
It is adorned with purple velvet ribbons and colorful glass ornaments that reflect your face and playful wool cap like spherical holiday mirrors.
You open the front door and jingle bells the size of baseballs alert the innkeeper of your arrival with a joyous melody.
Lillian the innkeeper carries on in the tradition of generations of family members who ran the historic inn.
She greets you with a warm smile.
The dry air wraps around you as you come in from the cold.
The inn smells of baked apples,
A burning fire,
Hot tea and fresh scones,
And each of these aromatic notes hits you in a comforting way.
A few guests are gathered around the holiday tree and add silvery tinsel that conjures thoughts of angel hair.
The resident Maine coon cat sleeps curled up near the roaring fire.
Her furry body rises and falls with each content breath and she softly purrs.
The main room has a wall of windows that run from floor to ceiling with dozens of tiny panes.
Through the ivory lattice frames you see the vibrant large white snowflakes fall on the rolling hill behind the inn,
Set against a backdrop of a blue-black sky.
Lillian remarks on your beautiful wreath and you remember that it still dangles from the crook of your arm.
She offers to show you to your room and has prepared tea and a small meal for you in anticipation of your arrival.
Lillian leads you towards a grand mahogany staircase covered with a luxurious sapphire and ivory patterned rug.
Its nautical quality reminds you of the limestones of the Cotswolds delicately crafted by the sea long ago.
With each step you feel more and more tired.
With each step you feel more and more relieved that you are in the most comforting atmosphere to be during a winter spell.
Lillian is dressed in a long,
Burgundy velvet frock that slips across each stair as she you ascend.
You arrive at the landing and walk past a few doors before coming to your room.
Lillian passes you a skeleton key with a tasseled keychain and says to give her a ring if there's anything you need during your stay.
You have not stayed in this room before,
Yet when the heavy door opens into it,
You feel as though you are returning home.
A fire glows in the fireplace and the wood crackles and pops.
Bows of holly are strung across the mantle and a small Christmas tree is lit in the corner of the room.
The room is cast in a beautiful combination of cool and warm tones.
From the sapphire holiday lights on the tree and the amber light from the fire,
A velvet comforter covers a canopy bed with satin curtains.
And holiday hues of spruce green and gold brocade.
A small table near the fire has a silver tea tray that holds a pot of tea,
A bowl of steaming soup and a plate of scones.
You hang your wreath on a brass hook on the back of the door,
Now contained in doors.
The rich smell of pine and spruce fills the air.
You admire your masterpiece with appreciation and awe.
You remove your winter coat and place it on a hanger in a mahogany wood armoire.
You walk towards the antique table that contains your supper and sit in a satin armchair.
Everything is the perfect temperature to warm you and overcome any lingering cold from your day of adventures.
The silky tea and soup flow down your throat and you savor every moment of this experience.
You notice how slowly you eat,
Free of the urge to rush that often haunts your day to day life.
For once,
You enjoy things at your own pace.
One sip,
One swallow,
One taste at a time.
You save the holiday scones for last.
The flaky crust melts on your tongue for the same delicate ease of snowflakes that melted on your nose.
You look outside the window to see the snow is still falling and riding on the December winds.
Upon finishing the meal,
You take a moment and sigh and smile.
This holiday is exactly what you have needed.
You rise and prepare for bed.
Your luggage arrived before you as it was dropped off before you began your exploration of the village.
You change into your favorite and most comfy bed clothes.
You head to the bathroom and catch a reflection in the antique brass-framed mirror.
You see a sparkle and liveliness in your eyes that you haven't recognized in some time.
Perhaps you weren't paying attention,
But now you are.
Your face looks radiant and healthy.
You brush your teeth and as you do,
You realize a weight has been lifted from your chest.
It's one you didn't even realize you were carrying until it mysteriously dropped off.
Feeling so good and relaxed,
Feeling each breath come without tension,
And feeling a lightness in your body is just another reminder of how healing this magical part of the world can be.
You return to the canopy bed and pull back the heavy velvet comforter.
You climb into the bed and draw the lush curtains around you to feel nestled in a cocoon.
Facing deeply into the soft bed as the mattress and pillows contour perfectly around your body in total support.
The marmalade flames of the fire have died down into lava-hued embers.
Just in time for the sweet to become cooler and for you to enjoy the warmth of the heavy velvet comforter.
You close your eyes and begin to drift.
Your mind is as amenable as the snowflakes that surrender to the wind and land softly wherever they are led.
As you surrender to the sensation of floating,
You imagine traveling above the shimmering holiday lights of the Cotswolds.
From an aerial view you take in the rolling snowy meadows that the sheep call home.
You are touched by the magical energy of the timeless villages that feed the imaginations of artists and dreamers.
You embrace the imaginative creator within you that is responsible for creating the life you desire and all that you desire and all that brings you joy and peace may meet you in your dreams tonight.
You find yourself ready to cross over into your sleeping and dreaming life as I count you down towards sleep.
With each count you drift further and further away from consciousness and surrender to the peace and serenity that you deserve.
You let go and embrace the restoration in respite to come.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Finding grace.
Finding ease.
Finding rest.
Finding peace.
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
Good night.
