Hear that?
It's raining.
Soft and steady,
the kind that isn't going anywhere soon.
Get comfortable.
Pull the blanket up.
Let your head sink into the pillow a little more than feels polite.
For the next six minutes, you don't have to do much.
Just listen.
Notice the rain on the roof, above you.
Then the rain on the window, closer.
Maybe a drip somewhere, off a gutter, keeping its own slow time.
You don't have to name the sounds.
Let them come to you.
Rain is one of the oldest sounds there is.
People have been falling asleep to it for as long as there have been
roofs.
You're in good company tonight.
Breathe in slowly through your nose...
And let it out, long and soft, like rain running off a leaf.
In again...
And out...
letting your jaw loosen.
One last slow one.
In, as if you could breathe in the cool, clean smell of rain...
And out, all the way, until there's nothing left to push.
Let the breath find its own pace now.
You don't need to steer it.
Picture a window, with the rain running down the glass in thin, wobbly lines.
Now think of one small worry from today.
Nothing huge.
Just whatever's nearest.
Place it on a raindrop at the top of the glass.
And watch it slide down...
slowly...
until it's gone past the edge.
Here's another one.
Maybe something you said.
Something you forgot.
Put next it on the drop.
And watch it go.
You don't have to solve it tonight.
It'll still in be there the morning if it matters, and you'll be more
rested.
One more.
Maybe about something tomorrow.
A meeting, or that one thing you keep putting off.
Set it on a and let the rain take it down the glass.
Tomorrow can look after itself for a few hours.
If a worry comes back, that's alright.
They do that, especially at night.
Your mind isn't doing anything wrong.
Just give it a new raindrop.
Now imagine the rain is falling softly on you.
Not cold.
Warm, like a gentle shower.
It lands on the top of your head and runs down over your face.
Your forehead smooths out.
Your eyes get heavy.
It rinses over your shoulders, and they sink down into the bed.
Down your arms, your chest, your belly.
Rinsing off the whole long day.
All the rushing, and whatever you carried around with you without noticing.
Down your legs.
All the way to your feet.
And it drains away, taking the day with it.
Breathe in slowly...
and as you breathe out, let the last little worry wash away with the
rain.
And here you are.
Warm.
Dry.
Inside, under the covers, while the rain does its work there.
out
There's something about rain that gives you permission to stop.
Nobody expects much of you on a night like this.
Feel the weight of the blanket.
The soft give of the mattress.
The pillow, cool on one side, warm on the other.
Your hands are heavy.
Your legs are heavy.
Even your thoughts are slowing down,
like the rain is falling on them too.
Let these settle in, if you like.
I'm safe and warm.
The day is done.
I can let it go.
I'm allowed to rest now.
The rain will keep going.
You don't have to.
Stay as long as you like.
Let the sound hold you.
If you drift off before I finish, that's perfect.
Heavier now.
Softer.
Nothing left to listen for.
Just rain...
And sleep,
whenever it comes.