Sleep story · rain, green
A garden in the rain (a sleep story), when you are too tired to try hard — for the hours after a late shift
Steady rain on leaves, and a chair under an awning that stays dry.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter. Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out. The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it.
The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves. The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step. There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Your chest can be still now.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
The leaves in the border are dark and glossy and moving slightly. The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again. Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
You do not have to count them. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.
Almost nothing to do now. Let them. Just the breath.
Too tired to try hard is exactly the right amount of tired for this.
The end. Sleep well.