Whispering Pines

Welcome to the Forest of the Whispering Pines. The wind is blowing in the high trees. And their trunks bend gracefully to accommodate it. The trees are supple and they dance like children in a game. A special dance to celebrate the wind. And it's the sound that is produced that gives the forest its name, Whispering Pines. Can you hear it? What a beautiful place it is. 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, or 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. Holding 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. That's great. Now returning the breath to normal. If we keep our voices down, there's every chance that we'll see some of the wildlife that make their home here. The quiet creatures of the woodland, the plants and animals, we can be like them, treading carefully and quietly through the undergrowth, invisible and not leaving a trace behind. In daylight, the pine needles are a very dark green at this time of year. Yet in the moonlight, they appear almost black. The trunks of the trees are lit in silver by the light of the gibbous moon. Ah, we're in luck. Partly shielded by a low branch, two deer stand side by side, their muzzles searching the plants on the forest floor. One is larger than the other, taller and more substantial in the chest. It's a mother and her fawn, a male, with his small horns still covered in their spring felt. They nose through the undergrowth, searching for a tasty morsel to eat. Their tawny backs dappled with white spots reminiscent of the way that moonlight falling through the branches of trees is broken into dappled spots. They reach out their long necks and their black tongues glisten as they graze on fern and moss and mushroom tops. The mother is the first to see us, raising her head with its long elegant neck. The fawn follows suit. They regard us, still chewing. It feels special to be the object of their attention, fixed by two sets of eyes. They stand motionless now, watching us, apart from the...