Welcome.
As you settle in for the night,
Take a deep breath.
Feel the rhythm of your breath soften,
Like the slow roll of waves reaching the shore.
Let go of the day's thoughts.
There's nowhere to be but here and nothing to do but rest.
Tonight I'll guide you to a quiet place far from the noise of the world.
A place where the sea whispers and time slows down.
Let's begin the journey to the lighthouse keepers retreat.
Picture a quiet coast in early autumn.
The sun has begun to dip beneath the horizon,
Casting the sky in soft lavender and rose.
You're on a carriage is warm and quiet with wide windows and cushioned seats.
Outside the land undulates with grassy cliffs dotted with a late blooming wildflowers.
You see the occasional farmhouse,
Lights flickering on like stars as dusk deepens.
The rhythm of the train is soothing.
It hums and clicks carrying you through patches of pine forest,
Over slow rivers and finally toward a little seaside village.
As the train pulls into the station,
You step onto the platform.
The air smells of salt and earth.
There's a cobbled path leading away from the station,
Lined with lanterns that glow like fireflies.
You follow the path slowly,
Taking in the quiet charm of the village.
Stone cottages with moss covered roofs,
Flower boxes still bursting with colour and the distant sound of waves crashing gently.
You pass a bakery where the scent of warm bread and cinnamon lingers,
Even though it's closed for the evening.
A black cat watches you from a windowsill,
Its eyes half closed in contentment.
At the edge of the village,
A At the top,
Nestled among windswept grasses,
Stands the lighthouse.
It's tall and slender,
Its stone surface weathered by wind and sea.
A warm golden light rotates slowly at the top,
Casting its glow and rhythmic arcs across the water.
At the base of the lighthouse is a small cottage,
Cosy and inviting.
You push open the creaky wooden gate and follow the gravel path to the door.
Inside it's warm and quiet.
The walls are lined with shelves of books,
Jars of dried herbs,
Smooth stones and trinkets from the sea.
There's a kettle on the stove,
Gently steaming.
The keeper,
A kind older woman with silver hair and calm eyes,
Greets you with a soft smile.
She says very little,
But you feel her welcome deeply.
She pours you a cup of chamomile and mint tea and gestures toward the window seat where you can watch the waves.
The chair is soft and deep.
You sit,
Hands cradling the warm mug and look out over the sea.
The ocean glows under a rising moon.
Waves curl and break against the rocks in a slow,
Steady rhythm.
The keeper lights a few candles.
Their scent is gentle.
Lavender and cedar.
The soft flicker dances on the walls,
Mingling with the moonlight.
Later,
You climb the narrow spiral staircase to the top of the lighthouse.
Each step echoes slightly.
The stone cool beneath your feet.
At the top,
The glass room offers a 360-degree view of the sea and sky.
The air is still.
The great lantern moves silently,
Casting its golden light across the water.
You sit in a cushioned chair beside the lamp,
Wrapped in a soft woolen shawl the keeper gave you.
You watch the stars emerge.
First one,
Then two,
Then a spray of constellations.
A gentle wind brushes against the glass,
Like the sea breathing around you.
The keeper quietly joins you and sits nearby,
Knitting something in silence.
The rhythm of her needles is soft,
Hypnotic.
She hums a barely there melody that reminds you of something old and comforting.
The world seems so far away here.
So quiet.
So safe.
You don't speak.
There's no need.
Time drifts like the tide,
Slow and steady.
Thoughts begin to dissolve like mist in sunlight.
You simply listen to the waves,
The wind and the turning of the light.
Eventually,
The keeper touches your shoulder lightly.
She guides you down the spiral staircase and into a small bedroom off the main cottage.
The bed is tucked under a sloped ceiling.
There's a quilt on the bed,
Patchwork,
Hand-sewn,
Soft as clouds.
You settle in.
The mattress moulds to your shape.
The pillow is cool and smooth.
The sounds of the sea are just outside your window,
Rhythmic and peaceful.
From your bed,
You can see a slice of the moon,
Drifting slowly across the sky.
The keeper closes the door gently behind her,
Leaving you alone in the dark warmth of the room.
You let out a long,
Contented breath.
Your body is heavy.
Your mind is soft.
There is nothing to do now.
The lighthouse continues its watch.
The sea continues its song.
And you drift.
As your breath becomes slower and more gentle,
You feel yourself letting go completely.
Held by the quiet,
The light,
The sea and the soft hands of sleep.
And if at any moment your mind begins to stir again,
Just remember the lighthouse.
Still turning.
Still shining.
Still keeping watch.
Rest now.
Sleep deeply.
Good night.
