The Art of Sleep

My cat, Rufio, is an expert on the subject.

You know, going to sleep is a bit like falling into the arms of life itself — surrendering, letting go of the day, trusting that you will be caught.

As you lie there, try not to think too hard about falling asleep, for it’s rather like trying to remember a dream; the more you chase it, the faster it flees. Instead, invite yourself to simply be. Notice the rise and fall of your breath, the soft weight of your body against the bed, the gentle rhythm of the dark.

Now, imagine yourself as a drop of water in a great river, flowing effortlessly along. You are both that single drop and also the entire river, moving through valleys and plains, winding gently towards the vast ocean. There is no hurry in this river, no particular place to be. It just flows — complete, unhurried, at ease.

Or perhaps think of yourself as part of the vast night sky, filled with stars. Each of these stars is a spark of light, a reminder that even in darkness, there is beauty. You are not separate from these stars but a part of them, connected through the simple miracle of existence. In this vastness, all your worries are like clouds passing by — temporary, insubstantial.

In the end, realize that sleep isn’t something to do; it’s something to allow. It’s a journey without effort, a return to a place that has always been within you. And as you let yourself drift, remember that this moment, as you lie here, is perfect just as it is — quiet, peaceful, whole.

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