Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - A Restful Day of Shelling on a Florida Beach

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Starting point is 00:02:46 anything in mind or you just simply want to say hello, you can reach us via our contact page at GetSleepy.com. Tonight's story was written by Leila and will be read by Arif. We'll be joining a character named Johari in Florida where she enjoys a relaxing walk along the beach in search of beautiful seashells. First though, get sleepy premium is the very best way to listen to the show and we'd love for you to try it. The first seven days are free of charge, so you can be sure you're happy. In addition to the 500 plus episodes we've released on the public feed,

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Starting point is 00:04:30 So my friends, allow yourself to give in to the pull of comfort and rest. Luxuriate in the support of your bed, the cradling softness of your pillow, the stillness of your environment, and the distant sounds that you might be able to hear in the background but you know that you are tucked away from for the night. Wherever you are listening, you can use your imagination to take you to a dreamy, calm place, where everything your senses pick up on become a part of your restful sanctuary. Any sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and the things you can feel, let all of it intertwine within your imagination, taking you to a peaceful place where you can rest. Let go of any tension you feel within, breathing it out with each exhale. breathing it out with each exhale.

Starting point is 00:06:17 As you release it bit by bit, you center yourself deeper into peace, serenity, and rest. Take one long slow inhale and smoothly, gently exhale back out. Feel that extra bit of tension easing from your muscles as you sink further into bed. And now, with your eyes closed, open your mind to our story and let it carry you away to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. This is where our story begins. It had been a long and rainy winter. There had been much to be grateful for, from cozy days inside to hillsides bursting with lush greenery and wildflowers. The gray-blue winter skies and sheets of soft rainfall had had their charms. So had the sudden cloudbursts that hammered the ground like tropical monsoons. But still, there had come a point when Joari longed for sun, come a point when Johari longed for sun, when she dreamed of blue skies overhead and warmth and light. And this was when the invitation had come. A note from Johari's great-uncle

Starting point is 00:08:39 and great-aunt in Florida, asking her to come and stay with them. Her family lived on an island called Sanibel, off the southwestern coast of Florida, in the warm, blue-green waters of the Gulf of Mexico. She loved the couple, and she loved the place, and she had not hesitated to accept their offer. So, she packed a duffel bag with a pleasingly light array of flimsy, summery clothes, and she'd boarded a plane headed for the Fort Myers airport, from where she would drive across a bridge to Sanibel Island. She was tempted to travel without a jacket, even, but she balked at going quite that far. It could be chilly on the way to the airport and on the plane. She did, however, make do with her smallest, most crushable jacket.

Starting point is 00:09:55 She knew she could stuff it into her backpack the moment she emerged from the airport in Florida and not take it out again until the return trip. It was late when she arrived in Fort Myers, well after sundown, but the air was still balmy as she stepped out of the airport into the warm Florida night. She noted the familiar golf smell that evoked salt and sand and sun. The evening air was heavy with the humidity and fragrances of a subtropical coastline. The night was alive, and the gentle sounds of distant insects – maybe cicadas, she thought – surrounded her. She could feel the moisture in the air. Palm trees waved against the dark sky, and the moon shone overhead. She had arrived.

Starting point is 00:11:07 And then she saw her great-uncle and great-aunt waving to her, welcoming her. In no time at all, they had her bag in the back seat of their old, familiar car. their old, familiar car, and they were on their way, cruising along wide, quiet streets, lined with flowering bushes and more palm trees. Soon, they were driving across the bridge to Sanibel Island, though Johari couldn't yet see it in the darkness beyond the glare of their headlights. But then, at last, the trees and houses of the low island loomed into view out of the dark, and they were driving onto the island, a place of many happy memories for Johari. Her family had lived there long before a bridge had connected it to the mainland, and it had harbored every generation of her family since as a vacation haven or a home.

Starting point is 00:12:34 Johari herself treasured recollections of Sanibel among her very earliest memories. She breathed in the warm, almost tropical night air through the open window of her relative's car, and she felt something unwinding inside her. That night, she slept deeply, her head cradled on a soft pillow, a light sheet, all she needed for a cover in the warm climate. The next morning, she awoke to bright sunshine streaming in the window. She looked outside and saw a white bird with a hooked beak, called an ibis, strolling through the backyard. And she smiled widely. She knew exactly what she was going to do

Starting point is 00:13:30 today. She would head to one of the island's many beaches. So, after a pleasant breakfast outside with her great uncle and aunt, she packed a beach bag. Sunscreen, a hat, a water bottle, and a towel. Then she was on her way. It only took a few minutes to reach her destination. gates to reach her destination. Once there, she walked out to the beach along a short, sandy path that cut through sea grape trees with huge, round leaves. Underneath her feet, fallen leaves crunched against the sand. And then there was the gulf, opening out in front of her. It was a delightful green-blue color, cloudy from small waves that churned rhythmically against the shore. The water stretched out to the horizon, where it met the cloudless blue sky.

Starting point is 00:14:52 Somewhere out there, a way out of sight, were Mexico and Texas and other shores that edged this beautiful sea. But here, there was nothing but water as far as she could see. Beautiful, calm, and serene. Looking out across the seemingly endless expanse of green water felt like meditation, Johari thought. The beach, too, stretched away out of sight as it curved around the island in the distance. The beach was wide, made up of white sand so fine that it felt soft, not scratchy, to the touch. She dug her toes into that soft sand now. She was here, at last, in the place of dreams and memories. She stretched her arms wide and arched her back. It was impossible not

Starting point is 00:16:09 to breathe in deeply in the presence of so much openness and space. She felt so much The abundance of water, of space, of sky and of air, of sand. It made her sense the fullness of moments too. All these beautiful glimmers, hers just to exist within. As she started to walk along the sandy shore, she noted another abundance too – a profusion of seashells. There were mounds and mounds of shells piled high near the water, glistening with droplets from the most recent wave. Farther up the beach, where the sand was dry and the waves didn't reach, there were more shells baked to whiten, on the lookout for any she'd like to collect. She knew how to recognize the rarest shells, such as the Junonia, which was probably the rarest of them all, a spiral shell decorated with bands of square dots. And she knew how to recognize the lion's paw, another rare shell.

Starting point is 00:17:56 That one was a large scallop shell shaped like a fan. It was burnt orange in color, like a fan. It was burnt orange in color, with ridges that featured knobs almost like the knuckles on the paw of a great cat. She'd browsed through a guidebook of Florida seashells on the airplane ride here, refreshing and expanding her knowledge of the local shells. In the guide, she'd learned that lion's paw shells lived in deep water, usually in shady nooks and crannies like caves or even shipwrecks. That was why it was so rare to find them intact on a beach. In addition to the rare shells, Johari also recognized a wealth of other seashells from summer visits growing up. However, she knew them mostly by their common names, not the official names

Starting point is 00:19:10 listed in her guide. Often, she even knew them just by nicknames her family had used for them. Nicknames she'd invented as a child, or ones thought up by other long-ago children from previous generations of her family. At any rate, she knew which shells were rare to find, and what to look for in a pristine example of each. But, in truth, she wasn't on the lookout for perfect specimens or even for rare shells, though she wouldn't pass one up if she happened upon it. What she was watching for were simply shells that caught her fancy, those whose colors or shapes pleased her most.

Starting point is 00:20:20 She saw a spiral shell whose outer portion was worn away to reveal the smoothly curving column within. To her mind, it was not an imperfect shell to be discarded. Rather, it was a unique creation, an artwork of nature. She picked it up carefully and slipped it into her pocket. A fragment of crab shell, decorated with bright splotches and a striking maroon color, caught her eye next. Then, a tiny scallop shell, which she knew as a pectin, drew her eye with its rich, golden, orange color. Johari had a plan to craft her own art from the shells she liked best. She would take them home with her. She would paint them over with a clear varnish to bring out their colors and make them look dewy and wet,

Starting point is 00:21:26 the way they looked on the beach when they were freshly washed by the salty waves. Then she would get a deep frame and arrange the varnished shells on the back, in a pattern that spoke to her. She would play with their shapes and colors until she found a design that pleased her, and then she would glue the shells in place. When the glue dried, she would hang her creation on her wall to keep a part of these Gulf beaches with her in everyday life. And so, she relished the joy of self-expression along with the joy of discovery as she scanned the mounds of shells on the beach, as she spotted treasures that were truly hers alone, given that they were liable to be overlooked by other shellers with a different goal or aesthetic.

Starting point is 00:22:40 After a time, though, she grew warm and decided she was ready for a dip in the water. She dropped her hat and bag onto the shore, careful to leave them high enough that no wayward waves could snatch them. And then she waded into the green-blue waters of the Gulf. and then she waded into the green-blue waters of the gulf. The water was warm and welcoming as she stepped in, but still cool enough to refresh her sun-soaked arms and legs. When she'd waded in to about her waist depth, Johari sank slowly underwater and then leaned back to float on the surface. She smelled and tasted the salt of the water as she bobbed gently, gazing up at the blue

Starting point is 00:23:39 sky above her. What a lovely feeling, floating on the moving surface, supported as the buoyant water held her up. She floated easily, without having to do anything. She lay there a long time, just drifting softly back and forth with the gentle motion of the waves. She felt cradled and at ease. At last, however, she was ready to return to her shell hunt on the beach. So, she emerged dripping from the sea, and her wave-cooled skin felt luxuriously comfortable under the warm sun beating down on it. warm sun beating down on it. She walked along the beach for a ways again, until a particularly rich trove of shells caught her eye.

Starting point is 00:24:56 It was huge, and it sparkled with hundreds of colors that caught the sun. Deciding to take a closer look, she sank down onto the sand, beside the pile of shells. At first, she couldn't pick out anything in particular among the riot of of color and shapes. But as she looked, her attention slowed and focused, and she began to spot gems everywhere that she would have overlooked if she'd kept walking. She saw a stunning little Murex, rosy in color. It was a lacy-looking type of spiral shell that she'd always been particularly fond of. She spotted a tiny olive shell, long and thin, with the smoothest, glossiest surface you could imagine. She found a long, skinny, cone-shaped one that she'd always called a pencil shell, although her shell guide had told her it was officially known as a boring turret snail. She slipped her finds into the pocket of a long, loose, button-down shirt

Starting point is 00:26:30 that she wore over her swimming suit. And soon, the pocket began to grow heavy with her treasures. And yet, still she spotted more and more lovely finds. Dozens of pectin shells drew her gaze, small fan-shaped shells that came in an array of beautiful colors and patterns. There were speckled pink and purple ones, There were speckled pink and purple ones, reddish ones, bright orange ones, and lemony yellow ones. She reached out and picked up a particularly lovely pectin. It was a rich pink color speckled with purple, and streaks of orange radiated out from the bottom,

Starting point is 00:27:30 like the rays of a setting sun. The beautiful rainbow pectin shells were delicately curved. But Johari knew that if she ever spotted a flat shell that looked like a pectin, it would be a rarer find. She knew those rare, flat pectins as fans, though she hadn't read about them in her shell guide yet, so she had no idea if they had a more commonly used name. The warm sun had dried her skin now, and even her hair felt only slightly damp, just enough to keep her cool and comfortable. She slipped the sunset-looking pectin into her pocket and stood up,

Starting point is 00:28:30 stretching widely as she did so. It was time to get out of the sun for a while. She looked forward to going back to join her great uncle and great aunt for lunch and showing off her shells to them. She turned to head back along the beach the way she had come, feeling the soft sand give way beneath her feet as she walked. She strolled at a gentle pace, gazing across the white sand and out over the green-blue water as she went. A large bird, a pelican, flew out over the waves, then dove with a splash. She would come back at sunset, she thought, and swim in the still warm waves of evening as the setting sun bathed them in color. But right now, she was warm and drowsy.

Starting point is 00:29:50 Lunch and then a nap, she thought to herself. She would stretch out across the soft, cotton sheets of her little bed and listen to the sounds of the birds and insects in the trees outside. As she would let herself drift off to rest, content in the knowledge that it would all be waiting for her again when she awoke. And that was just what she did. You You You You You You You. You You You. You. You You. You. You.. You You You You You. you

Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - A Restful Day of Shelling on a Florida Beach

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