Sleep Stories Womens Meditation Network

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In the heart of a forgotten valley, cradled by towering mountains veiled in perpetual mists, there lay a village untouched by time. This hamlet, known to its few inhabitants as Elysion, harbored a secret as ancient as the stars themselves: here, the Aurora, a celestial phenomenon of ethereal beauty, whispered secrets of the universe to those willing to listen.

Our story begins with Elio, a wanderer who, by a series of uncanny events, found himself at the edge of Elysion as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. Elio was a seeker of truths, a collector of stories whispered by the wind and sung by the rivers. He carried within him a restlessness, a yearning for something just beyond the grasp of understanding, which had propelled him across lands and seas to this very moment.

As night descended upon Elysion, Elio was drawn to the center of the village by a melody as old as time, woven from the gentle hum of the earth and the soft whispering of the stars. There, in the village square, he found the elders of Elysion gathered, their eyes closed, faces serene, bathed in the gentle glow of lanterns that danced like fireflies in the twilight.

"Elio," called a voice, both ancient and young, as if the very valley had spoken to find an elder approaching him, her eyes twinkling like the first stars of evening. Her name was Lira, a name as melodic and easy to utter as her presence was comforting...



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Once upon a time, in a serene forest nestled between mountains, there lived a solitary owl named Hoot. Hoot was no ordinary owl; he was the guardian of wisdom in the forest, possessing knowledge passed down through generations of his ancestors. Every night, as the moon rose high in the sky, Hoot would perch atop the tallest tree and share his wisdom with the creatures of the night.

As dusk painted the sky with hues of lavender and indigo, the forest came alive with a symphony of rustling leaves and murmuring streams. It was the time when animals sought solace in the comfort of their homes, eager to listen to the whispers of wisdom that flowed from Hoot's beak.

One evening, as Hoot prepared to impart his nightly wisdom, he noticed a peculiar creature lurking in the shadows. It was a weary traveler, a lost soul seeking refuge from the chaos of the world. With gentle eyes and a heavy heart, the traveler approached Hoot and pleaded, "O wise owl, lend me your guidance. I am lost in the labyrinth of life, and I yearn for the light of wisdom to illuminate my path."

Moved by the traveler's plight, Hoot extended his wings and beckoned the traveler to join him atop the tree. As they sat beneath the shimmering moonlight, Hoot began to weave a tale—a tale of resilience, compassion, and the enduring power of hope...



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How do you feel when you wake up in the morning lately? 
I’ve noticed that I wake up under the weight of a never-ending task list. I spend my mornings in my head, organizing, prioritizing and putting life’s puzzle pieces together. 
I get a lot of satisfaction out of this. (Anyone else’s brain work like tetris?)
But, I’ve noticed that there’s an undercurrent of anxiety here. Kinda like, if I keep checking things off this task list, “it” won’t get me. I can keep “it” at bay. 
What is “it?”
I’m not too sure yet.  
But what I do know is that there are a lot of moving parts in my life right now. (You too?). Many big things in transition. So, perhaps my tetris brain feels some sense of control as all these things are on the move.  
Perhaps this in and of itself is fine, but what about the underlying worry? 
It’s like I’m watching an artist painting a mural and I’m unsure of how the big, red stroke of color she just made fits in. I can’t see the larger picture.  
So I worry.  
I let anxiety pool up inside my mind and body and fret about each brushstroke. I seem to forget that I can just sit back and trust that the artist will create the most magical masterpiece.
That I can surrender to the flow of the process. 
And I forget that I am the artist.  
And that I am creating this vision with the Universe.
Can you think of an area of your life where you are in the energy of worry lately?
What are you always trying to control? What are you always trying to organize? 
Now breathe…
How can you invite in more trust? 
How can you loosen your grip on all the details? 
Trust the process.
Trust yourself. 
Trust the flow. 
Trust in the divine purpose of it all. 
And how does that make you feel?
Today I’m making a few declarations, commitments to myself, and you’re welcome to join in with me if it feels right for you.
I choose to pause each morning and become aware of my energy. 
I choose to remember who I am, so that I may move through my day aligned. 
I choose to follow what feels good, and trust my intuition. 
I choose to remember that I am the painter…the creator of my life. Each color, each brushstroke is up to me. 
I choose to let go of the energy of worry and surrender to the energy of trust. 
I would love to know what this brings up for you and how it applies to your life right now.  
And, I would really appreciate you sharing your reviews on Apple Podcasts…let me know what meditations you loved, and perhaps some meditations you’d like more of.  
I love you. 



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Rene took a deep breath as she stepped through the elaborate golden gates into the sprawling grounds of the Palace of Versailles (vr·sai). She had dreamed of visiting these beautiful gardens her entire life, and now she was finally here. As she slowly meandered down the tree-lined pathways, she felt a deep sense of calm wash over her. The morning air was still and quiet, with only the chirping of birds and the gentle swish of fountains in the distance.

Up ahead, she could see the Grand Canal stretching out before her, the water sparkling in the soft morning light. Majestic cypress trees lined the canal, their sweeping branches seeming to stand guard over the tranquil scene. Rene paused to take it all in, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet floral scents that drifted on the breeze.

After a few moments, she continued on, passing meticulously trimmed hedges and beds of vibrant flowers in every color she could imagine. She smiled as she spotted sculpted boxwood trees dotted throughout the gardens, their twisted and curling branches like something out of a fairy tale. As she went deeper into the gardens, the paths became surrounded by tall, manicured hedges, creating a sense of intimacy and wonder...



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The cracking and popping of the campfire was like a symphony welcoming us into the woods. My friends and I had backpacked deep into the forest, miles away from any roads or buildings, to enjoy a weekend of camping and telling stories under the stars. We were surrounded by tall evergreen trees that stood like silent sentinels around our little clearing. Their peaks seemed to brush against the vast night sky above.

As darkness fell, we lit our fire, the small orange flames licking up towards the heavens. We spread out our sleeping bags in a circle around it, so we could all see each other and the firelight dancing across our faces. The fire was our torch keeping the thick forest shadows at bay.

When it was my turn, I lowered my voice and began my tale:

"Many years ago, before any towns or roads cut through these ancient woods, a Native American tribe made its home along the river that runs not five miles from this very spot..."

My story transported us back in time, to an era when the woods teemed with wildlife never seen by modern eyes. Back when the Native tribes still roamed the land unencumbered by borders or fences. I described the tribe's lifestyle - the bark and hide huts they called home, the fishing and hunting that kept them fed. They were at one with the forest and all its creatures...



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In a realm of soft twilight and whispered legends, there lay a hidden path that only the most adventurous hearts dared to tread. This path wound through realms of dreams and reality, blurring the lines between the two, and leading to a place few had ever seen—The Silk Road Oasis. Among those drawn to its mystery was a soul named Tai, a seeker of tranquility in a world bustling with noise.

Tai's journey began on a gentle evening, under a sky painted with strokes of lavender and peach. With each step away from the familiar, the clamor of daily life faded into a symphony of nature's whispers. Tai walked with a purpose, guided not by a map, but by an innate feeling that the road ahead was where he truly belonged.

The path was not always clear; it twisted through forests where the trees stood tall like guardians of ancient secrets, and across rivers that sang melodies of the journeys he had witnessed. Tai moved with ease, each step a note in harmony with the earth's song. There was no rush, for in this quest, the journey itself was a treasure.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Tai came upon a meadow that seemed untouched by time. The grass swayed gently, a sea of green under the moon's soft glow. Here, Tai decided to rest, enveloped in the tranquil embrace of the night...



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