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. A little brook flows amongst the rocks and roots and branches. Its passage through the forest like a silver thread in the moonlight, where its glistening pebbles reveal themselves beneath the leaves. Here and there, the water pools between the large round rocks of the stream bed. These rocks are covered in damp moss, as though each one had been measured for its own perfectly fitting suit. Run your fingers over the moss's surface and you can feel how soft and spongy it is, perfectly soft, cool and damp. Amongst the moss by the edge of the stream, where the ground is damp and pliable as a sponge, another kind of plant grows. Tall and elegant tubes, like an organ's pipes, but delicate and green, each one with its own lid. These are pitcher plants, or Sarracenia, to give them their proper name. Each one is like a tall champagne flute filled with water and nectar, into which attracted by the scent and...