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Soft, first person goddess sleep meditations in a gentle female voice. Each episode is a guided meditation that melts into hours of warm ambient sound, so you can fall asleep and stay asleep through the night. Goddess sleep stories, a goddess watches over you meditations, and moon rituals, all drawn from the old myths. A new meditation every week. For rest and reflection only; the voices are AI generated.
There is a silence at the top of the world.
Tonight, I am going to take you up into it.
I am Skah thee. I was born of the mountain giants, and I am the goddess of winter, of the high places, of the long white quiet. Long ago I gave up the sea, and all the noise of the world below it, for the peace of the peaks. And I have never once, in all the years, regretted it.
Tonight I will take you up to where the air is clean, and cold, and still. And I will show you the thing I learned, alone, up here: that to be alone is not the same as being lonely. Up here, nothing is asked of you. No one needs you tonight. You are already whole.
So let your body grow heavy and still beneath your blankets. Let the room around you go quiet. We are climbing somewhere very high, and very calm, and you do not have to move at all to come with me.
Let us breathe the mountain air together, just a few times. It is cold, and clean, and it tastes of snow, and of far away pine. Breathe it in, slowly, all the way down to the bottom of your lungs. And let it go, in a long, slow cloud.
Again. Breathe the cold clean air in, and feel it open a quiet space inside your chest. And breathe out, and let the noise of the whole day leave you, carried off on the cloud of your breath.
One more. Breathe in the high white silence. And breathe out everything that was loud.
Now let your breath find its own slow rhythm, soft and even as snow falling in the dark.
You are lying deep in furs, warm against your skin, and above you the clean cold air is moving, slow and gentle as a held breath. And where that cool air passes over you, it smooths the body, the way a slow wind smooths the surface of fresh snow.
Let it move over your forehead first, cooling away the creases of the day, leaving the skin there clean, and smooth, and calm. Over your closed eyes. Over your jaw, which lets go, and comes loose.
The furs hold you warm from below. The clean air settles you from above. Feel your shoulders release, and sink down into the furs, away from your ears. Your arms grow heavy. Your hands fall open.
The cool clean air moves down across your chest, and your slow steady breath, and your belly, rising and falling. Down over your hips. Down through your legs, which grow still, and heavy, and quiet. All the way down to your feet.
All of you now, held warm from below, and washed clean and silent from above. There is nothing to do up here. Nothing to carry, this high.
And now, let me show you where I live.
This is Thrim haym, my home, high on the great stone shoulder of the mountain, under a sky enormous with stars. The snow lies deep and blue in the starlight, smooth and unbroken in every direction, as far as you can see. The old peaks stand all around us, patient, and ancient, and still.
There is no sound up here. No voices. No roads. No one, anywhere, wanting anything from you. There is only the enormous clean white silence, and the slow turning of the stars overhead.
Stand beside me a moment, and look out. The whole loud world is far below us, under a long blanket of cloud, and from up here you cannot hear a single sound of it. All of its demands. All of its noise. All of the people who need something from you. They are all down there. And you are up here. And up here, tonight, you owe nothing to anyone.
Now come inside with me. There is a lodge built into the rock, with deep soft furs, and a low blue light, and one window full of stars. Lie down in the furs. You are warm. You are alone. And for once, that word, alone, holds nothing in it but peace.
But first, let me take you deeper into the quiet.
The snow has begun to fall, slow and weightless, out of the dark sky. Watch it a moment, in the blue light, each flake drifting down without a sound. And with each flake that falls, you sink a little deeper into the furs, a little further from the world below.
Feel how the cold has made everything wonderfully still. There is no effort up here. Even your thoughts move slowly now, like breath in cold air, rising, and then gone. If one comes, let it rise, and let the cold take it, and let it disappear into the white.
The snow keeps falling, soft and endless, covering the day, covering your footprints, covering everything you did and everything you carried, until the whole world is smooth, and white, and new. And you sink deeper, and the furs hold you warmer, and the silence grows wider and deeper all around you.
Down past the cold. Down past the world below. Down into the deep blue still, where there is only you, and the falling snow, and peace.
Let me tell you what the mountain taught me, in all those long winters by myself.
You do not need anyone tonight. Not to be safe. Not to be whole. You are already both, exactly as you are.
You are allowed to want nothing right now. You are allowed to be of no use to anyone tonight. To simply lie here, and take up your own quiet place in the world, and ask for nothing, and give nothing, and only rest.
Being alone is not the same as being lonely. Tonight, it is the cleanest, calmest kind of peace there is.
You are whole, on your own, in the dark. You always have been.
The cold asks nothing of you. The mountain asks nothing of you. You may simply lie here, and breathe, and take up your own quiet place beneath the stars. That is enough. That has always been enough.
There is nothing up here you have to fix. There is no one up here you have to be. There is only you, and the stars, and the long white quiet.
Let the falling snow say it once more. Nothing is asked of you tonight. You are whole on your own. You are allowed to simply rest. You are at peace.
The stars turn, slow and bright, above the silent peaks. The snow holds its perfect silence. You are deep in the warm furs, still, and alone, and nothing in the whole loud world can reach you up this high.
Let the silence settle down over you now, soft, and cold, and clean, like fresh snow falling onto snow. Let it cover the day. Let it cover your thoughts, one slow flake at a time, until everything inside you is smooth, and white, and still.
The stars turn slowly above the silent peaks. The snow keeps its perfect silence.
Down you go now, into the deep blue quiet.
Down past thinking.
Down past the world, and everyone in it.
Softer now. Heavier.
There is nothing left to carry up here. You can let the last thought melt into the snow.
I am here. I am not going anywhere.
Down into the white silence, where you are whole, and warm, and free.
Sleep now. I will keep the watch until morning.