Lazing Lagoon

The waters of the lazing lagoon are calm and the currents are mellow. The weather at this time of year is mild, rather than really hot. A light breeze wrinkles the water's surface and the houseboats rock gently at anchor. Here on the deck of the Sylvie of the Sea, we have a commanding view of the surrounding landscape. Well, I say commanding, but perhaps that's a bit too demonstrative. After all, there's nothing here to command. Just a lovely blue sky with the wisps of cloud against it and the beach and the water itself. No, the proper thing to do here is to settle in and relax. Before we begin, I think it's nice to start with a little wind down. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise. So when you're ready, let's begin. So first get comfortable in your bed. Now, just bringing the attention to the breath. Just noticing where you feel it. In the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So, are you ready? Let's begin. In for four. Two, three, four. Hold it for four. Two, three, four. Now breathing out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four. Two, three, four. Holding for four. Two, three four. Out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four. Two, three, four. Hold in for four. Two, three, four. Out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four. Two, three, four. Holding for four. Two, three, four. Out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. Great. Now returning the breath to normal. The hammock on the sundeck is shaded by a piece of cloth strong from the railing above it. Inside it, the warm cotton sways slightly as it hugs you into itself, pressing your arms against your body. Sometimes, the houseboat gives you a wonderful feeling of freedom, as though at any moment, you could embark on a journey without having to pack a suitcase. But being in the hammock is another kind of pleasure. A sense of tightness and being held. Your head is slightly raised, but still the view from the hammock is limited. You can't see the sea anymore, just the sky and it's few clouds, the start of a dive as some kind of white bird swoops for fish. Lying there, you let your eyelids drop like a pair of blinds slowly being lowered. The backs of your eyelids are luminous pink. The book you'd intended to read is heavy in your hand. Some kind of boat, a kayak perhaps, is passing nearby. You can't see it, but you hear the oars stroking the water and feel the hammock rocking with the boat in its wake. There is an old fishing boat, tethered to the end of the jetty that ferries people to the houseboats morde in the...