Can't sleep yet?
That's Maybe all right.
you've checked the time twice.
Subtracted the hours until the Let's alarm.
leave that math alone tonight.
We'll do a much easier kind.
For the next six minutes...
your mind gets one small job.
Counting.
Lie however you usually sleep.
On your side, on your back.
It doesn't matter.
Let the pillow take your head.
Let your breath do what it wants.
You don't have to slow it yet.
Pull the blanket up to your chin...
if that's where you like it.
Hear that rain?
Far off.
Somewhere past the window.
It isn't going anywhere.
Neither are you.
Today's thoughts are probably still here.
The permission slip you still need to sign.
What to make for dinner tomorrow.
You don't have to shove them out.
Let them get a little blurry.
Like headlights...
through a wet windshield.
Soft at the edges.
They can stay fuzzy.
You won't need them for this.
Maybe a TV is on in another room.
Or a car hisses by outside.
Let that go blurry too.
Now your shoulders.
Let them slide away from your ears.
Now let your belly loosen.
Let your breath sink lower.
Into the soft middle of you.
Here's how this works.
Each time you breathe out...
that's one number.
We'll start at fifty.
And go down, slowly.
Don't breathe any special way.
Just notice the air leaving.
That's your cue.
If you lose count, that's fine.
Pick any number close by.
Nobody's checking.
Breathe in...
And out...
fifty.
In...
Out...
forty-nine.
Forty-eight.
Nice and slow.
Forty-seven.
Let the number be quiet.
Forty-six.
Your jaw can hang a little loose.
Forty-five.
The numbers don't need to be clear.
Forty-four.
Let each breath out run longer.
Forty-three.
Just the next number.
Forty-two.
Softer.
Forty-one.
Almost to forty.
From Forty.
here, I'll only say some of them.
You count the ones in between.
In As your head.
slow as you Thirty-five.
like.
Keep going on your own.
If you skipped ahead, or fell it behind...
doesn't matter at all.
Thirty.
Each number a little farther away.
Like a porch light down the street.
Twenty-five.
I'll stop counting now.
You can keep going.
Or let the numbers go too.
Maybe you're somewhere in the teens.
Maybe you lost track back at forty.
Either way is fine.
Your eyes are heavy behind the lids.
Your breath is slow and low.
If a thought slips in between numbers...
just pick up where you think you were.
Some numbers might stretch out now.
A long gap before the next one.
Let the gaps win.
Just the rain.
And a number now and then.
Breathing in...
And out...
If you're still awake...
keep counting down.
There's no rush to reach the bottom.
You don't have to get there.
Your hands are still.
Your face is soft.
Down...
down.
Goodnight.