Not much good comes out of not being able to sleep. Mostly, it's just frustrating and baffling and a little unfair. You lie there thinking, why me? Especially when everyone else seems to manage it so easily.They go to bed, they close their eyes, they sleep, and those of us who struggle can only imagine being that lucky. But if sleeplessness has one small gift in it, maybe it's this. It makes you look a little closer at yourself and at the way you move through your days.Because eventually, lying awake long enough, you start to ask, what am I bringing to bed with me that might be keeping me awake? And you might begin to realize that you're carrying quite a lot. Sometimes, if you're honest, a little too much. Too much tension, too much worry, too many feelings you never had time to set down. Most of us carry all that because we choose to. We want to be capable. We want to be the person other people can depend on.The one who holds it all together. And that's not a bad thing to want. Not a bad thing to be.But it is worth looking at. Worth asking whether you have to carry quite so much. Whether you might set some of it down. But how? You can't just flick a switch and have it all fall away. Learning to put the weight down takes practice. But tonight, we can start.Tonight, I'm going to take you on a journey up a quiet mountain path to a warm spring at the top. And along the way, one piece at a time, we're going to set down some of what you've been carrying. Before we start, tonight we'll be using relaxation techniques and a little hypnotherapy. So it's important that you're listening from somewhere safe. Preferably your own comfortable bed. And not anywhere.You need to stay alert. And if this show helps you sleep and you'd like to support it, there's a way to do that now. It's a second feed for members and it's how the show stays independent and ad-free.Members get a few nice things in return. But I want you to know that nothing has changed with this feed. However you listen, whether you join or not, I'm just grateful that you're here.All the details are in the show notes. And now it's time to get you settled. We're going to begin by slowing everything down.Starting with your breathing. And we're going to do it using our imaginations. Imagine right now in front of you a single candle. When you breathe it out, you're going to imagine blowing out that light. And the candle can be whatever kind you want. A simple tea candle, a big fat beeswax candle, or a birthday cake candle, any candle.So if you're ready, take a slow breath in and then breathe out long and steady and controlled. Just enough to bend that flame all the way to the end of the breath. Nice work. Now we're going to imagine two candles. And when you breathe out, imagine that you're leaning both flames over and only at the very end let them go out. Here we go.Breathe in again, fill your lungs and then breathe out. Make this a longer breath out. And now three candles in a row.Breathe in and then breathe out. One flame and the next and the last. And then your lungs are empty.And then let your breathing go back to its own quiet rhythm. And you don't have to work at it. Just make it a natural, slightly slower breath.And that slow breathing isn't only relaxing you, it's speaking to your heart. You're sending your heart a signal. Older than words.We're safe now in your heart. Is listening. You might notice other things beginning to change.A warmth beginning to spread through your hands or your chest as your body eases. A heaviness settling into your limbs. Maybe a loosening in your shoulders.These are the signs of your body letting go. Real changes. Simply because you slowed your breathing.So keep breathing and keep noticing. Because the more you notice these small changes, the more they deepen. And the further down you drift.In a moment, I'm going to take you somewhere. And all you have to do is listen. Let my voice be the one thing you follow.Not the day you just had or tomorrow. Just the words. And you don't have to try to relax.It happens on its own. And if your mind drifts off, that's all right. It will find its way back to my voice.This is the oldest kind of magic there is. A voice in the dark. A quiet mind.And a body ready to let go. Imagine you're standing at the foot of a mountain path. In a strange and beautiful land.There are no trees. Just open, empty land. Rolling away into a low, drifting mist.There's a hot spring up there. A pool of warm, mineral water. And you're tired tonight.All you want to do is reach that warm water and sink into it. So that's your old task tonight. Just climb this path and reach the spring. But you're not climbing empty-handed. You're carrying the whole day with you. And you can feel all its weight.There's a pack on your back. Full of something like bricks. Dragging you down between your shoulder blades.Its hard edges are pressing into your spine. And the straps cutting into your shoulders. This is the physical weight.The hours on your feet. The tension in your neck. The tiredness in your limbs.And you're wearing a coat. A long, heavy, woolen coat. Down to your ankles.Button to your throat. And it's damp. So heavy. This is the weight of everything you felt today. The worries. The frustrations.The small hurts. That you carried and still carry now. And in your arms.Clutch to your chest. You're carrying a laptop. A big slab of thick, gray plastic.And here is the strange thing. You're not using it. There's nothing up here it could be for.You just can't bring yourself to put it down. This is the weight of managing everything. Of staying on top of it all.Of never letting go. Because letting go feels like something will slip if you're not there holding it all together. That's a great deal.To carry up a mountain. But the path is long. And there is no hurry. So for now, you simply begin to climb. The path is steep at first. But eventually it levels.And you come to a tall, gray stone. Just the right height to rest against. But before you set the pack down, feel it for a moment.Because in it is everything your body has been holding all day. Feel it in your shoulders. Up high.Near your ears where they've been embraced since morning. Feel it in your jaw. In your neck.Across your back. In your stomach. Pulled in and clenched.All day, your body bent itself into a shape and held it. And you never once put it down. Set it down.Flip the straps from your shoulders and lift it off. And rest it on the stone. And as it goes, let your shoulders drop.All the way down. Feel your whole body let go of the shape it's been holding all day. That was so much to carry.And you didn't even know you were carrying it. Now it's off. On the stone.Behind you. Your body floats up. Light and loose. And free. And it's easier now. Your shoulders are down.Your body is loose. Up through the warm drifting mist. The steam ahead a little closer.And after a while, you come to a hollow in the rock. And you stop. And before you take off the coat, feel the weight of it.Because this coat is everything you felt today. Maybe there's a worry in there. Maybe there's a resentment.Maybe it's the feeling you didn't do enough today. That you fell short. Whatever it is for you.Feel the weight of it. Wrapped around you. Damp and clinging.And ask yourself, what is it doing for you? Right now, here in the dark. These feelings are real. And they matter.But they have no work to do in this quiet time. No place here in this peaceful dark. So take off the coat.And let it fall. Into the hollow in the rock. And feel the weight of it sliding off you.You don't have to hold these feelings while you sleep. And you will not bring them into your sleep. Let them stay here.In the folds of the coat. At the side of the path. And feel how much lighter you are.How much easier it is to breathe. And how hard it was carrying all of that. And how good it is to set it down.Breathe. And climb on. The bat gone. The coat gone. Only the laptop is left. Clutched in both arms.And you come to the last place. And just beyond it, the pale steam rising off the water. You stop.And before you set it down, understand what this heavy old thing really is. The part of you that has to keep control. The part that makes sure everyone does what they're supposed to do.That manages. That stays on top of it all. It's the part that can never quite rest. Because if you stop holding it all together, surely it will all go wrong. So you carry it everywhere. And it is so heavy.So look at it one more time. And set it down. The world does not fall apart.The things you were so sure would go wrong the moment you stopped watching, they are fine. You can put it all down. Just for tonight, in your arms, your empty arms. They rise up on their own, light as air, free. There's nothing on your back, nothing wrapped around you, nothing held in your arms, just your own body, standing at the top of the mountain in the warm, drifting mist.Light, unburdened, just your breathing, slow and calm, just you, so you turn, light and empty, toward the water. And there it is, the hot spring, steam rising off it in slow curls of vapor. The water is beautiful, clear as day, as though light itself were dissolved in it.This water fell as rain and snow and sank down, down through the rock, deep into the warm heart of the earth, where the ground itself heated it. And now it rises back up here, carrying the minerals it gathered on the way, salts and elements from deep in the earth. It draws the ache out of tired muscles, it softens the skin, calms the body, quiets the mind.So slip off your clothes and lay them on a rock, and stand for just a moment in the cool mountain air, the mist soft against your skin, and then you step toward the water. The first touch of it is almost too hot, the lovely edge of almost too hot, that makes you catch your breath, but you lower yourself in slowly, and your body adjusts until the heat is perfect. Up your ankles, your calves, past your knees, and you find where you thought would be hard rock, that the edge of the pool has been worn by the water into a smooth, sloping ledge.It is exactly the shape of a body at rest. You lower yourself onto it, and it cradles you, and the water rises up your body, and it closes warm over your shoulders, and you let out a long, slow breath. The heat sinks straight into you, into the muscles of your back, and your neck, and your shoulders.It loosens them, sinks into your legs, tired from the climb, into your hands, into the deep, tired places you didn't even know you were tired, and then you lean back, and you let your legs lift from the ledge, and you float. You float on your back, held up, weightless. Your arms drift out, loose at your sides.The back of your head rests in the water, so your ears dip below the surface, and the world goes soft and far away, and the cool night air is on your face, and on the front of your body, and you feel so fresh, and clean, and alive, and you open your eyes to the sky. The stars are out now, more than you have ever seen in your life, and the whole black dome of the sky is thick with them. More and more, the longer you look, and you float beneath them, warm and weightless, rocking slightly with the movement of the water, looking up into all that light, and something settles over you.Peace. You carried so much today, and you never even noticed you were carrying it. It was just there, the way it's there every day, and you think, tomorrow, maybe I'll notice, maybe I'll catch the weight, as I pick it up, and set some of it down along the way.I don't have to carry all of it. I can be kinder to myself. I can take better care of myself. I deserve that, and notice as you float here, what your body is doing all on its own. Your heart, which raced through so much of the day, is slowing now, beating slow, and steady, and calm. Even your blood pressure is gently falling, everything letting go, and your breathing has grown long, and slow, and deep, and even your mind is changing.The fast, bright, busy waves of your waking thoughts are slowing, settling into the deep, slow rhythm of a brain moving towards sleep. You float there, a long, long time, under the stars, in the warm water, and when at last you rise, a towel is there, and it is the softest, thickest, most wonderful towel, and you wrap yourself in it, enveloped in soft warmth, your skin silky from the water, your body loose, and clean, and glowing, and light, and somehow you are no longer on the mountain at all. You are in your own bed, warm, and clean, and wrapped in softness.The stars still behind your eyes, the mineral water still soft on your skin, the deep, floating peace still holding you. You cannot stop life from being heavy sometimes. The weight will come, but you do not have to carry it into bed with you. Not any night. You can set it down at the water's edge, and climb into your bed, light, and clean, and free, and that is exactly what you have done. So rest now, warm, and weightless, and unburdened, held by your bed the way the water held you.Your heart slows. Your mind is quiet, quiet, and drifting. Nothing to carry. Nothing to hold. Just warmth, and stillness. And sleep.