Monsoon Hour

You are safe, watching the birth of a monsoon from a high hill overlooking the paddy terraces. Behind you, a home of strong wood worn smooth by so many tumultuous seasons such as this stands quiet and steadfast. Lanterns glow from its windows, like wonder-filled eyes. You can almost feel their shadow plays tickling your back. It is evening and the rains are coming. It's time to put down the day and prepare for rest. To help us make the most of this special time, I think it's nice to begin with a little wind-down. Tonight's wind-down is an exercise we call noting. It helps to soothe the mind and once you've learned it, you can even use it if you wake up in the night. We're going to be counting our breaths and then just gently noting thoughts and feelings as they arise. We're not trying to change them. We're simply labeling thinking as thinking, feeling as feeling. It may sound incredibly simple but it can help to create distance between ourselves and the thought, ourselves and the feeling so we don't get so involved in it. That in turn creates a more restful state of mind. In other words, the ideal state of mind for gentle, restful sleep. So to begin with, just take a moment or two to get comfortable. Make sure you're nice and cool. Just starting with some nice, big, deep breaths. Breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. And with the next out breath, allow the breath to return to its natural rhythm, in and out through the nose and just feeling the weight of the body pressing down into your bed. And in your own time, starting to count the breaths as they pass. One with the rise, two with the fall. Just up to a count of 10. When you get to 10, you can stop and start again at one. And remember, anytime you get distracted, the moment you realize you're distracted by thought, simply note it thinking and return to the breath or if a feeling arises, feeling and return to the breath. That noting is very gentle. Not harsh at all. Think of it like a feather just gently touching the surface of a crystal glass. I'm going to give you a few moments just to keep counting the breath. And noting any thoughts and feelings that arise. That's great. It falls like satin. Like a chorus of mirrors. It falls like stars, freely, ecstatically, it falls, knowing that it will be received with gladness. Where it hits the ground, steam rises, releasing stored heat from its hibernation. It falls on the faces of the orchid, and on the white star on the fur of the lowing buffalo's flank who is hitched to his post. It falls on the pebbled road that winds around the hill, pounding like a million butterfly wings. It falls on the shingled roofs of the homes scattered along the hillside, cascading...