It happens every year. August shows up with its golden light and warm nights and we tell ourselves we're going to slow down and savor it. We're going to have those picnics in the park and spend lazy afternoons by the water and take evening walks when the air is soft and fragrant. And then somehow, weekend after weekend slips by. We skip the beach because we haven't finished the laundry. We choose emails over evening walks, to-do lists over time in the garden. And before we know it, there's that subtle shift in the air that whispers autumn is coming. And we realize we spent another summer postponing the very experience that would have restored us. Why do we do this? Part of it is our culture's obsession with productivity. That voice that tells us we need to earn relaxation before we can enjoy it. But mostly I think it's because we've forgotten how to switch off. How to take it easy without feeling guilty. And this pattern doesn't just rob us of summer's joy, it robs us of sleep too. When we spend our days locked in work mode, never allowing ourselves to truly relax, we create a state of chronic stress that follows us to bed. Our minds, which never practice switching off during the day, don't know how to switch off at night. But look out of your window tonight at the luminous August full moon. The sturgeon moon, the last full moon before autumn's harvest moon. If nothing else does, this golden moon should be telling you there's still time. Time to enjoy the simple pleasures that summer has to offer. Tonight, bathed in the sturgeon moon's golden glow, we'll learn to welcome both the slow pace of August nights and the deep rest and sleep our bodies crave. But first, as always, please make sure you're somewhere safe to fall asleep. This episode is designed to guide you into deep rest. So you want to be in your comfortable bed and not anywhere you need to stay alert. And to my lovely listeners, thank you so much for following this show. To be honest, sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this crazy amount of work each week. But then I get a really nice comment from one of you, or I see that someone has just followed the show. And I get motivated all over again. So thank you to everyone who's reached out and to everyone who follows. I keep saying it, but it's true. Your support is what keeps this show going. Let's begin by helping your body remember what relaxation feels like. Find the most comfortable position you can. Move your pillows around if you have to. Shift your legs. Whatever feels right for you. Take your time with this. There's no hurry. And when you're ready, we're going to take a few deep breaths together. Focusing on making that exhale longer than your inhale. We'll breathe in for a count of four and out for six. Ready? Breathe in now for a count of one, two, three, four, and out one, two, three, four, five, six. Feel how that longer exhale begins to signal to your nervous system that it's time to slow down. Let's do that one more time. Ready? Inhale for one, two, three, four, and exhale for one, two, three, four, five, six. As you breathe, begin to notice where you might be holding tension in your body. Sometimes we carry stress in places we don't even realize. Notice if there's any tightness around your forehead or your eyes or in your jaw. With your next exhale, feel all of those small muscles softening. Move your attention to your neck and your shoulders. Feel the heaviness of your head sinking into your pillow. With each breath out, let your shoulders drop further away from your ears. Continue this gentle release through your arms. Feel them becoming heavy and relaxed. Your hands resting gently wherever they've fallen. Your chest expands and contracts with each easy breath. Your back muscles are melting into the mattress beneath you. Let this wave of relaxation flow through your hips and into your legs, all the way down to your feet and toes. Let everything become loose and still. Notice how your eyelids are growing heavy now, wanting to close. Let them close gently. They're sealed with peaceful relaxation, weighted with the promise of rest. As you continue breathing slowly in and out, my voice will carry you to a different place. Allow my voice to guide you, to be your anchor in this journey toward deeper relaxation. Trust that my voice will lead you exactly where you need to go, toward peaceful, restorative sleep. Allow your imagination to take you somewhere very special. Tonight, under the Sturgeon Moon's gentle watch, you're simply giving yourself permission to remember what it feels like to completely let go. Imagine yourself arriving at a very small lakeside cabin on a perfect August afternoon. As you step out of the car, your phone buzzes insistently in your pocket. Another notification. But something about this place makes you pause. The air here is different, soft and warm against your bare arms, fragrant with pine. And the sweet smell of sun-warmed wood. You pull out your phone and look at the screen. Three missed calls. Seven new emails. The familiar tightness begins to form in your chest. But then you look up at the pristine blue lake stretching before you. And you make a choice. A deliberate, conscious choice. You walk into the cabin and open the small wooden drawer by the kitchen table. Without reading another message. Without checking another notification. You place your phone inside and close the drawer firmly. The silence that follows isn't empty. It's full of possibility. Your shoulders drop immediately. As if you've just set down the heavy bag you didn't realize you were carrying. You're wearing the simplest clothes. Soft shorts. And a thin linen shirt that moves with every gentle breeze. Your feet are bare. Already anticipating the cool kiss of lake water. There's something liberating about this simplicity. No schedules. No urgent messages pulling at your attention. Just you and this beautiful place that exists outside of time. On the small table near the window. You notice your laptop bag. Inside are files you brought just in case. You zip it closed and you push it deep into the closet. Another choice. Another boundary. The work will be there tomorrow. Today is for something else entirely. The cabin sits nestled among tall pines. Their branches creating natural shade that dapples the ground with shifting patterns of light. But it's the lake that draws you forward. Blue and pristine. It stretches across to distant hills that shimmer in the afternoon heat. The water is so clear. You can see smooth stones scattered across the sandy bottom near the shore. You make your way to the wooden dock that extends into the water. The planks are warm beneath your feet. Heated by hours of August sunshine. You settle at the very edge. Letting your feet slip into the cool water. The sensation is immediate and perfect. That wonderful contrast between your sun-warmed skin and the lake's gentle coolness. Sitting here, you become aware of the sounds that make up this perfect afternoon. Water laps softly against the dock's pillars with the gentlest rhythm. Somewhere across the lake, you can hear the distant laughter of kids playing. Their voices carry across the water. Bright and joyful. Reminding you of summers from your own childhood. When days felt endless. And worries did not exist. A loon calls from somewhere in the middle of the lake. Its haunting voice echoing off the water. The sound is pure wilderness, untouched by the complications of modern life. Small waves catch the sunlight and send sparkles dancing across the lake's surface. Each tiny flash of light seems to carry away another fragment of stress from your shoulders. You lean back onto your hands. Feeling the dock's warmth seep into your palms. There's something about this August light that's different from any other time of year. Richer somehow. More golden. It seems to move through the air with visible warmth. Touching everything that special glow that photographers spend their lives trying to capture. The breeze picks up slightly, stirring the surface of the lake into gentle ripples. It carries with it the scent of pine needles. Warmed by the sun and the fresh, clean smell of the water. Your shirt flutters against your skin. Allowing you to feel every shift in the air temperature. As the afternoon deepens, you remember the hammock you spotted between two old oaks near the cabin. Rising from the dock, you feel the pleasant way of relaxation in your limbs. Your movements are slower here. There's no need to hurry. Back in the cabin, you notice two books on the nightstand. One is serious. The business book you thought you should read. The other is a simple novel. Something light and engaging that you chose purely for pleasure. Without hesitation, you reach for the novel. Another choice. Another gift to yourself. The hammock welcomes you. Above you, oak leaves rustle with the softest whisper. The book rests on your chest as you sway gently. Reading becomes secondary to simply being here. Feeling the summer air move across your skin. Listening to the small sounds that make up a perfect day. Your breathing naturally slows to match the hammock's rhythm. Deep and easy. No effort required. You realize you haven't thought about work. About obligations. About anything you should be doing for over an hour. The relief is physical. Like unknotting a muscle you didn't know was tense. From the cabin's small kitchen, you retrieve a slice of watermelon. Cold and sweet from the refrigerator. Sitting on the cabin's front steps, you savor each bite. The cold sweetness is exactly what this warm afternoon calls for. You eat it slowly. You're in no hurry. Watching the lake change color. As the sun begins its descent toward the western hills, those distant children are still playing. Their splashing and laughter drift across the water. And instead of feeling envious of their carefree existence, you realize something important. You are being carefree. You are choosing joy. And this is what you came here for. As evening approaches, the sky begins its magnificent transformation. What started as bright blue slowly shifts to pale gold near the horizon. The lake becomes a mirror reflecting the sky's changing canvas. You return to the dock's edge. Feet once again in the cooling water. To watch this daily miracle unfold, the western sky deepens to amber and then orange. And then the softest pink. You feel small in the best possible way. Connected to something vast and beautiful. And eternal. And then the stars begin to appear. First one, then another. The air cools just enough to feel refreshing against your sun-touched skin. Night sounds begin their gentle chorus. Crickets in the grass. The soft splash of water against the shore. And the rustle of small creatures. That's when you see it. The August moon rising above the eastern tree line. Full and luminous. Glowing with warmth that seems to emanate from its very core. This isn't the cold distant moon of winter. This is summer's moon. Bright and green. Low and golden. So close it seems you could reach across the lake and touch it. The moon's light transforms everything it touches. The lake becomes liquid silver. Broken in gentle ripples that catch and scatter the light in dancing patterns. The dark glows pale gold beneath your feet. Even your own skin takes on a soft radiance. In this magical illumination, you understand now why you needed this day. Why stepping away from responsibilities wasn't selfish or irresponsible. It was necessary. Your mind needed this quiet. Your spirit needed this reminder that beauty and peace exist. This moon has been rising over August nights for millions of years. Tonight, it watches over you. Under its light, you feel permission. Permission to rest. To play. To move slowly. To prioritize your own well-being without apology. As the moon climbs higher, you make your way back to the cabin. The bed, covered in soft white linens, looks more inviting than any five-star hotel. You open the windows wide, allowing the night air to flow through the cabin. The curtains flutter gently in the breeze. And moonlight streams across the wooden floors, creating patterns of light and shadow that shift and dance. The moon shines directly through your window. And this August moon makes you a promise. These moments of peace are not luxuries to feel guilty about. They are necessities that make you stronger, kinder, more resilient. You will remember this feeling. You will remember that peace is always available. Waiting for you to choose it, as this beautiful August night holds you in its embrace. Notice how your body has naturally settled into the deepest relaxation. Your breathing flows like gentle lake water. Each exhale carrying you further from the day and deeper into rest. The moonlight continues to stream through your window. Under its gentle radiance, you are connected to the eternal rhythm of rest.