A few weeks ago, one of our listeners, Sienna, asked for a Yoga Nidra episode. And that same week, Bekalin asked for a relaxation that works down one side of the body first and then the other. And I thought, well, that's lucky because I can make them both happy. And at the same time, I can make you happy too. Because this type of an episode is designed to take you to the very edge of sleep. Yoga Nidra. The name is not doing it any favors. Sounds like something you need a map for. It translates roughly as yogic sleep. And the whole practice is this. A voice guides your attention slowly around your body and you follow along. It was designed to take you to the edge of sleep and hold you just barely on the waking side of it. It's a kind of rest so deep that people come out of it feeling like they've had hours of sleep, which is a lovely idea, except that you and I are not interested in stopping at that edge or going over it into sleep. That's the whole plan. And I should let you know that it gets pretty detailed. Not vaguely like when I say your arms are relaxing or your legs are relaxing. I mean, each toe relaxes individually. It might be something you haven't tried before, but it works for most people. And there's a very good chance it will work for you. But before we get started, our disclaimer, this episode uses relaxation techniques and light hypnotherapy designed to help you sleep. So please ensure that you are somewhere safe when listening. Not anywhere. You need to stay alert. And if my voice is part of how you get to sleep, consider joining the Sleep Club. It's my whole catalog, organized into playlists. And the episodes over there are longer for those nights when you need that. It's also what keeps the show going and keeps it what it is. Details are in the show notes. But now it's time to get you settled. Let's take our time with this. If there's something that needs doing before you can properly let go, do it now. Hit pause if you need to. Get the pillows where you want them. Let the dog out one last time. Close the curtains. Turn off the light. Find your phone a safe spot to sit for the next little while. It's worth a few minutes now rather than having it nag at you 20 minutes from now. When you're ready, lie down however you like to sleep. On your back or on your side, either one. And if you are on your back and your lower back would like it, a pillow under your knees is a kind thing to do for yourself. And if you're ready, let your eyes close. And we'll start with your breathing. I'm going to ask you to breathe in and send the air all the way down into your belly, which isn't really where air goes. It can't. Your lungs stop somewhere around the bottom of your ribs and the air stops with them. But try it anyway. Right now. Let's take a slow breath in. Just like that. Hold and then slowly let go. It's a strange instruction, but it gets the right result. Because when you imagine the air going in that deep, your diaphragm does the work instead of your chest and shoulders. And that's the muscle that's meant to be doing it. Let's take a deep breath again. But this time, put a hand on your stomach so that you can feel it rise. Let's start. Breathe in and feel that hand rise. And then out. And if you feel your belly moving and not your chest, you did it right. Keep trying. On your own. In and out. Most of us have forgotten how to breathe properly. If you sit at a desk long enough or worry long enough, your breathing creeps up to the top of your chest and stays there. You've probably been doing it all day and you never felt it happening. But right now, if you're doing it correctly, with your belly rising, your whole body should be feeling more relaxed. Calm. Babies do this without being taught. If you lie a sleeping baby on its back, the only thing moving will be its stomach. Going up and down. Somewhere along the way, we stop and then we have to be reminded. Keep going. Keep breathing this way. Your hand rising. And falling. And then eventually, you can stop and let your breathing become more natural. It's likely much deeper now and less shallow. From here, all you have to do is follow my voice around your body. I'll name a part and you bring your attention to it. And then we'll move on. That's all. You can't do it wrong and you can't fall behind. If your mind wanders and you lose the thread, it doesn't matter. It'll pick it back up when it's ready. And tonight, we're going to do this one side at a time. Your whole right side first. And then your left. So, bring your attention to your right thumb. Let your attention rest there. On the pad of it. The soft part. Be aware of the thumb loosening. The joint at its base, unclenching. And then your right index finger. Feel it lengthening slightly as it relaxes. And then your middle finger. Softening. Your ring finger. Growing heavier where it lies. And your little finger. The smallest one. Letting go too. Bring your attention to the palm of your right hand now. Feel it opening a little. The muscle at the base of your thumb releasing. And that muscle has been working all day. And you never once noticed it. The back of your right hand. The tendons of your right hand. Smoothing out. Your right wrist. Loose and easy. Your right forearm. From the wrist to the elbow. Growing heavier. Your right elbow. And then your upper arm. The muscles softening and spreading. And your right shoulder. Let it drop. Let it slide down and away from your ear. And let the whole weight of your right arm sink down. And now the right side of your face. Your right eyebrow. And the small muscle underneath it that's been holding on all evening. Let it release. Your right eyelid. Resting.Closed. Heavier now. Your right cheek. Going slack. The right side of your jaw. Let your teeth come apart just slightly. And feel the hinge of the jaw open and rest. Your right ear. The right side of your scalp. And then down the right side of your neck. Lengthening and easing. Bring your attention to the right side of your chest now. Notice it rising and falling with your breath. Settling a little lower each time. The right side of your ribs. Your right side. From your armpit down to your waist. All of it softening. Your right hip. Sinking. And your right thigh. The long muscle along the front of it. Heavy and soft. The back of it. Letting go. Letting go. Your right knee. Your right calf. Releasing. And your right ankle. Loose and easy. Your right heel. Wherever it's resting. The sole of your right foot. The arch of it unwinding. And the toes of your right foot. Your big toe. The small toe. The second toe. The third. The fourth. And the smallest one. All of them warm and loose and forgotten about. Your whole right side is so heavy now. Let's stop here for a moment. Don't move and don't do anything at all. Just notice. Notice your right side. And then notice your left. Your right hand. And then your left hand. Your right hand. Your right leg. And your left. Is there a difference? For most people, there is. The right side is heavier. Further away somehow and more sunk down than the other. The left side is still holding on a little. Still awake. Whatever you can feel, that's your own nervous system. And you did it with nothing but your attention. No effort. Nothing you had to get right. Now, let's do the same for your left and let it catch up. Bring your attention to your left thumb. Feel it softening. Your left index finger. Your middle finger. Your ring finger. And your little finger. All of them letting go. The palm of your left hand opening. The back of your hand. Your left wrist. Loosening. And your left forearm. Heavy. Your left elbow. Your left upper arm. And then your left shoulder. Dropping down and away. the left side of your face, your left eyebrow, smoothing, your left eyelid, heavy. Your left cheek, slack. The left side of your jaw, unclenching. Your left ear. The left side of your scalp. The left side of your neck, lengthening. The left side of your chest, rising and falling. The left side of your ribs. Your left side, down to your waist. Your left hip, sinking. And your left thigh, front and back. Your left knee. Your left calf. Your left ankle, loose. Your left heel. The sole of your left foot. And the toes of your left foot. Your big toe. The second. The third. The fourth. And the smallest one. Both sides now. Matched. Even. All of you, heavy and quiet. And now, feel that heaviness all together. Not one part at a time, but all of it at once. From the top of your head to your heels. Too heavy to move. Too heavy to want to. And for just a moment, feel the opposite. Imagine your body is weightless. That the bed has fallen away and you're floating. An inch above it, held by nothing. Your arms drifting. Your legs adrift. Light as anything. And now, let the weight come back. Heavy again. Heavier than before. Sinking now. Sinking now. Heaviness is what your body does as it falls asleep. Your muscles let go of their tension in stages. And the last of it goes as sleep takes you. So that feeling you have right now. All through your arms and your legs. That's not a trick. That's the real thing beginning. And there's nothing left to do now. Nothing to follow. Nothing to notice. So let's go somewhere easy. And you can just lie there. Somewhere warm and somewhere with nothing in it. Imagine you're lying on your back. In the middle of a hay field. On a hot, quiet July afternoon. The grass is Timothy grass. Tall and dry and gone to seed. It's grown high enough that you can't see out over the top of it. There's a blanket under you. And the ground beneath. It is dry and giving. Hay in the sun has a smell like nothing else. Sweet. And dusty. And faintly like vanilla. And it's strongest right down here where the heat is held in close to the ground. There's clover in it somewhere too. And warm earth underneath that. And the sun is on your face. Full and heavy. You can feel it on your eyelids as a warm, red glow. It's on the backs of your hands and along your arms and wherever your skin is bare. Soaking in. And every so often a bit of air moves through and the whole field shifts around you. A dry rustling that comes from somewhere off to one side and travels past you and away. And that's the whole place. No path. Nowhere this leads. Nobody expecting you. Just the hay. And the blanket. And the sky. Such a sky. A deep, endless summer blue. So wide it curves. The clouds are that tall, piled-up kind that summer afternoons make. White and slow and enormous. They're crossing from somewhere off past your feet. All the way over you. Pick whichever one you like. Watch it cross. Changing its shape as it goes. Watch it go all the way over and out of sight, past the top of your head. A thought is going to turn up. It always does. Some small thing from the day or something about tomorrow. And when it does, I want you to do exactly what you just did with the cloud. Don't chase it. And don't push it away. Just watch it cross. And then let it go on out of sight. Because a thought doesn't have to be dealt with. That's the thing almost no one realizes. No one realizes at two in the morning. You can leave it entirely alone and it will pass over on its own. The way weather does. Here comes another cloud. Big and soft edged and in no hurry. Watch it come into view down past your feet. And watch it travel over you. And if there's something on your mind, let that thought cross too. Doesn't need solving tonight. Nothing gets solved at this hour anyway. Let it drift over and out of sight. And turn your attention back to the sky. Another cloud. Slower than the last one. Watch it all the way across. And then another thought. Let it cross. You'll notice it's a little different. They keep coming, the thoughts. The same as the clouds do. It's just what a mind does. There's no version of this where the sky is empty. So watch the sky. Clouds and then whatever your mind offers up. And then another cloud. Across. And gone. And the hay smells sweet. And the heat is on your face. Somewhere far off, a bee goes past. And further off than that, so faint, it's barely there. The sound of a tractor working in another field. And your eyes are getting heavier as you watch. The sky is still there. And the clouds are still crossing it. Slow and white. But it's harder and harder to hold on to them. They're getting further away. Blurring at the edges. Coming apart. And it doesn't matter. Let them go. The field is going now. The hay. And the heat. And the high blue sky. All of it drifting off the way an afternoon does when you've dozed off in it. You don't have to hold on to any of it. Just let it fade and come back to where you really are. Your own bed. In the dark. With the covers over you and your head on your pillow. And your body exactly where you left it. Heavy. And warm. You've been resting this whole time. Your breathing has slowed and your heart has slowed with it. Every muscle you visited, let go a little. And never pick the tension back up. Lying in the dark. Rested. And warm. And quiet. Is not failing to sleep. It is the thing that comes before sleep. And it's doing you good while you wait. The night isn't a test that you can fail. And the less you need sleep to arrive, the more easily it does. So there's nothing left for you to do now. You've done it all. The letting go. One small part of you at a time. And it all worked. You can stop paying attention to me whenever you like. I'll keep talking for a while. And when I stop, the music will continue for a while. You won't mind. The music will still allow you to remain in this state of deep relaxation. And above all, if a thought turns up again, you know what to do with it now. Let it cross. It's only weather. Your body is heavy. The dark is warm. Everything is exactly where it should be, and nothing needs you tonight. Rest now and let sleep come and find you. And feel how still you've gone. Most of us have no idea how much we're holding until we finally put it down. All day your body is braced for the next thing. Not because anything is wrong, but just because that's what bodies do. Your jaw a little tight. Shoulders a little high. Some part of you always half ready. Ready for the phone to ring. Ready for someone to need something. Ready for the next problem. We carry it so constantly that we stop noticing. The way you stop hearing a fridge humming in the next room until someone switches it off. And then the silence is enormous. That's what you can feel right now. The quiet after it stops. None of those things exist here. Not one of them. Whatever is waiting for you, it belongs to the daytime. And it will wait there quite happily until the daytime comes back around. It cannot reach you here. This is a dark room. In a warm bed. In a body that has finally been allowed to stop. Nothing is required of you. There's no next thing. Nobody needs you. And there is nothing at all for you to do but lie here in the dark. Heavy. And warm. And quiet. And let yourself go.