Sleep story · rain, green
Sleep story: a garden in the rain, if you have done this a hundred times — 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.
Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line. There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part. The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it.
A snail is making its way along the bottom of the wall, going nowhere in particular. The leaves in the border are dark and glossy and moving slightly. The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out. Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Your ankles can go loose now.
There is a wooden bench that nobody has sat on for an hour. The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves.
Feel your wrists loosen. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step. The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
If you're distracted by a sound, let the sound be the object for a moment. Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let your hands be completely still.
Let the quiet be boring. You do not have to count them.
Sleep. Softer. Slower.
Just the weight. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. They will find their own way out.
If you have done this a hundred times, change one small thing tonight.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.