Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train (a sleep story), on a low-energy afternoon — for jet lag
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see.
The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Feel your wrists loosen.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
If your mind has wandered, that's not a mistake. Noticing is the practice. Notice whether you're breathing or holding. Start breathing again.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let the mattress take all of it.
Let them. Let the quiet be boring.
Stay with the weight of your body. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. You do not have to count them.
Low-energy afternoons are what this was written for.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.