Sleep story · winter, still
A field under snow, when the day has been loud — for jet lag
Everything muffled, everything white, and no tracks but yours.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
The farmhouse at the top of the hill has one window lit. The snow came down all afternoon and has now stopped, leaving the field completely unmarked. There are no footprints anywhere except the ones behind you.
The light is flat and grey and does not cast shadows. There is a gate at the far end of the field, half buried and not going anywhere. Your hands are warm inside your gloves and cold at the wrists.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Your chest can be still now.
The fence posts are capped with snow and look shorter than they are. Nothing in this field needs to be done today or tomorrow.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
The air is so cold it feels dry, and your breath is visible for a long time. The sound of your own boots is the loudest thing for half a mile.
If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather. Notice anything you're holding onto from earlier today.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Your ankles can go loose now.
The words can start to blur now. Sleep.
Just the weight. Just the dark. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
For days that were loud from the moment they started.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.