Sleep story: a field under snow, when you need to stop thinking about work — for jet lag

The snow came down all afternoon and has now stopped, leaving the field completely unmarked. The farmhouse at the top of the hill has one window lit. Nothing in this field needs to be done today or tomorrow.

A single crow crosses the field and lands on the fence, then thinks better of it. The fence posts are capped with snow and look shorter than they are. Your hands are warm inside your gloves and cold at the wrists.

Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.

The snow on the branches is holding, and every so often a small amount slides off. There are no footprints anywhere except the ones behind you.

Let your calves spread out and flatten. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

Notice the tone of your own inner voice. Is it kind? Notice any tension that arrived while you weren't looking.

Let your hands be completely still. Your ankles can go loose now.

Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Just the breath.

Just the dark. Let the room get slightly further away. Let them.

Work thoughts are allowed to be there. They just do not get to drive.

There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.