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. Let us ascend. From up here, the view of the shifting, whispering pines is like looking out over the surface of a shifting sea. But instead of breakers cresting with foam, the pointed tops are those of trees rocking and leaning, each toward its neighbor to confer in a whisper. Here a kestrel is flying, a regal bird, with a metal gray wing and a glorious peach colored breast. He casts a lordly eye over the forest, which is his domain. He comes to rest now, catching a branch in the grip of his talons. A welcome respite after a day of hunting and flight. He won't take wing again until the sun breaks over the mountain ridge, just visible in the far distance. Moving with infinite patience. Her short, front legs pulling, while her sturdy, back legs push. A tortoise is making her way across the forest floor. Her shell is brown. Divided into concave hexagons. Which net together into a hardy...