Hi, I'm Jessica Porter and welcome back to Sleep Magic, a podcast where I help you find the magic of your own mind so you can sleep better and live better. Thank you all for being here. I hope you're doing well. We've been getting a lot of notes from people within the podcast apps, one from Jamila in Temecula, California. She says, I just want to say we love you here in SoCal Wine Country. You've made me a better partner, mom and nurse because I'm sleeping easily every night and wake up refreshed. My five-year-old Lorenzo also adores sleep stories now because of you. As you say to us, thank you, thank you, thank you. Well, right back at you, Jamila. I really appreciate what you're saying. What I want to say to everyone out there is that I'm not making you a better partner, mom and nurse. You are allowing yourself to go down into a part of your mind that is fundamentally relaxed, softer, more peaceful, perceives the world in more beautiful, creative ways. And I'm just helping you get there. So thanks for letting us know and well done and good night, Lorenzo. Okay. Before we dig into our cozy library episode tonight, I just want to mention something pretty quickly. I've heard from some of you this week that sometimes you hear ads on our free episodes that don't always match our sleepy vibe. Now those ads are placed automatically and are based on where you live, meaning that our team doesn't choose them individually for you. However, when you hear me personally read an ad, that's when we've selected because it fits the spirit of sleep magic. So whether it's for bedding or therapy, we personally choose these partner brands because we think they're relevant to the show. So if you'd prefer a totally ad free experience, ads of any kind, you can always subscribe to sleep magic premium. You get no ads, more content and access to every single episode we've ever done. So no matter what you choose to do, thank you for listening. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of this big community that we're creating. And we read all of your comments. Before we get started, let's hear a quick word from our sponsors who make this free content possible. So you want to start a business. You might think you need a team of people and fancy tech skills, but you don't. You just need go daddy arrow. I'm Walton Goggins and as an actor, I'm an expert in looking like I know what I'm doing. Go Daddy Arrow uses AI to create everything you need to grow a business. It'll make you a unique logo. It'll create a custom website. It'll write social posts for you and even set you up with a social media calendar. Get started at godaddy.com slash arrow. That's godaddy.com slash A I R O. Okay. Tonight. Get sleepy in a library. When I was young, I was not into libraries. I was not much of a reader, first of all. And frankly, as a young person, I craved external stimulation and libraries were so quiet and boring. But now, because life is very funny and everything ends up changing, the outside world can feel so stimulating that a library is like an amazing oasis. Phones are silenced. Heads are bowed. Mines focused. The goers all agree to settle down and come together and go inward where there's quiet away from the rush of busy life. A library is like a park, but for the mind. In fact, libraries in many, many ways represent our inner minds slower, softer, but packed with unlimited information and a deep, deep power. So tonight we'll be getting sleepy at the main branch of the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue at 42nd Street in Manhattan. It's an amazing building, smack in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world, but there is tremendous peace inside and we will experience that tonight. I think you'll like it. So get yourself into a safe and comfortable position and let's begin. Allow your eyes to close easily and gently. Oh, here we are back again, letting go, releasing, relaxing. As you bring your awareness to your breathing just for a moment, finding that little metronome of your breath. And by focusing on your breath, your mind is coming down to a single point. It will stray because minds love to wander, but we're pulling it back, back to the breath, back to the body, back to this practice. Good. Now I'd like you to bring your awareness up into your eyelids, please. And imagine that your eyelids are feeling very heavy and sleepy. Imagine your eyelids are like those big red velvet curtains on a Broadway stage with little ball bearings in the bottom so heavy, heavy and beautiful. And now I'd like to make the suggestion that your eyelids are so relaxed and heavy, so comfortable that they simply will not open. And now I want you to test your eyes to make sure they won't open, wiggle your eyebrows while your eyes remain closed. You're just faking it, just pretending, just pretend you can't open your eyes. Good. And this lovely heaviness in your eyes. Let's move it all the way down your face like those curtains are moving down your cheeks into your jaw, down your lips, down your chin. Your mouth may fall open. And that's good. Good. Now imagine you feel the heaviness of those curtains, those big red velvet curtains moving down the back of your head like a beautiful curtain falling down your scalp, weighing your head down onto the pillow. Good. And now imagine another set of curtains just as heavy, just as beautiful up along your forehead, weighing down your forehead. And now allow this lovely heaviness to move back into your head, into your brain. A lovely, wonderful, lazy heaviness taking over every single cell of your brain. As everything drifts and floats, you allow the heaviness to move down into your shoulders, down into your arms, all the way down your arms, all the way down into your hands. Your hands are feeling heavy, like the bottom of those curtains, weighed down heavy. But it's a soft, beautiful, luxurious heaviness. As you imagine someone placing a blanket over your chest, a red velvet blanket, and it's nice and heavy. And it allows your whole torso to sink deeper into the mattress, the muscles of your back softening and releasing. And a beautiful mist of relaxation is moving down inside your torso now. And even though your torso is feeling nice and heavy, this mist of relaxation is moving inside, causing your inner world to feel soft and light and expanded. You're opening up on the inside, your whole inner world, relaxing the muscles of your belly, letting go. The muscles you may hold unconsciously in your lower back or buttocks, letting go. And now they feel so relaxed against the mattress, so soft and peaceful. You bring your awareness to any sounds that may be going on around you. And let them take you deeper. Just allow the sounds to pass right through you, taking you deeper and deeper. And the sound of my voice is taking you deeper and deeper. And so soon you'll find that you're detaching from even my voice, allowing yourself to drift and float and dream. As you imagine those red velvet curtains being laid down on your legs, causing your legs to feel nice and heavy and comfortable on the bed. And the relaxation is moving all the way down to your feet and your toes. And as your body is relaxing, your mind is relaxing. And as your mind is relaxing, your body is relaxing. And as your body is relaxing, your mind is letting go. Imagine you're standing at the foot of the great stone stairs of the New York Public Library. The island of Manhattan hums around you. Taxis whizzing down Fifth Avenue. A throng of pedestrians moves along the sidewalk. Determined. Focused. This is New York City, an energized place. You hear the murmur of conversations, the pings of phones, the hunks of horns. You take a nice deep breath and relax. It's time to go inward. Time to go deeper. You feel the warmth of the late afternoon air against your cheek. You hear the faint rustle of leaves in Bryant Park nearby. And you look up at the stairs. At the top is a temple of knowledge. It has six massive Corinthian columns. Supporting the pediment above which reads New York Public Library. Between the sets of columns are tall arched entryways. With bronze and glass doors framed in sculpted stonework. This building is white. Clad in Tennessee marble. And it is luminous. Glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. This branch of the library has been standing since 1911. And it holds more than 50 million items. Including Shakespeare's first folio. And the Declaration of Independence. As you look up at it. You relax. Going deeper. And deeper. As you scan from side to side. At each end of the wide sweeping steps. Is a marble lion. Reclining majestically on a tall pedestal. These two lions are the guardians of knowledge. Affectionately named patience and fortitude. A family snaps a photo with fortitude. And a young woman sips a tea next to patience. Between the two lions the broad granite steps rise in tears. Inviting your ascent. And as you step up. You feel the stone beneath your feet. Strong. Steady. You take another step. And then another. As you hear the sound of your shoes tapping lightly against the stone. And the higher you're going the more relaxed you're becoming. As you move away from the city. The rush and the hustle. And you are getting closer to the sanctuary. Within. And as you reach the top of the stairs. You pause. Turn around and look down again at Fifth Avenue. Everything is smaller now. Lower. Distant. You feel a lovely detachment. From the city. You turn back to the library and a great bronze door greets you. It is heavy or Nate and beautifully detailed. You reach for the handle. The metal is cool in your palm. And as you take a nice deep breath. You push gently as the doors open with a soft groan. And you enter. You are in Astor Hall. It's like a cathedral made from white marble. It's quiet here. And the air feels cooler. And the air carries the faint scent of paper. Stone. And polished wood. You look up at the soaring vaulted ceilings. And massive marble arches curving overhead. You see large bronze chandeliers casting a warm light. And on either side of the hallway are big, wide marble staircases. Going up to the floor above. You hear the hushed voices and gentle footsteps of others in the hall. And as you walk, you feel connected to all the readers. And all the scholars who have passed through this same space. Humans have collected knowledge since the dawn of civilization. When we made the transition from nomads to farmers. We began to grow our food on a schedule. And save seeds for the following year. Life became more stable as we grew our food and traded goods with our neighbor. We had more time. Time to think about our future. Time to reflect on our past. Time to sit and think and write and make art. Time to learn. And we began to gather knowledge. In the seventh century BC in Mesopotamia. King Ashurbanipal collected over 30,000 stone tablets known as cuneiforms. That covered a wide range of literary, religious and scientific texts. He organized them by subject. And his was the first known library. As you allow your shoulders to relax. And your breath slows down. You approach a staircase. And as you step up, you sense the marble beneath your feet. Smooth and elegant. And your fingertips brush the carved balustrade along the stairs. And with every step you take. You're going deeper. And deeper. Into relaxation. Now you're at the top of the stairs. And you pause before a tall set of wooden doors. You push the door gently open. And you enter an amazing place. You're in the rose main reading room. It is vast. You relax and take it in. This reading room is the size of a football field. Or a whole city block. You look up at the ceilings are 52 feet high and painted with clouds and soft light. Down the length of the room you see long oak tables. Fit it with amber reading laps. And it feels like you've stepped into a dream. Big as this room is, it is the softest, gentlest place in the whole city. The air smells faintly of paper and linen bindings. You walk slowly between the tables. And the wooden floor creaks quietly beneath your steps. The original architects of the library didn't stop at the building. They designed everything. The tables. The chair. The lamp. The chandeliers. Even the waste baskets. This room feels beautiful. As you walk, you hear the subtle turning of pages. The whisper of a pencil on paper. The quiet clicking of a keyboard. You sit down at a table now and feel your mind settle. Like dust in a sunbeam. Drifting. Down. Down. 500 years after the first library was built, scholars of Alexandria, Egypt sought to collect every book in the world. Written on scrolls of papyrus, they wanted to get copies of every text in existence. In Greek, Egyptian, Persian, Hebrew, and more. They sent emissaries to Athens and Rhodes to buy entire private libraries. Every ship entering Alexandria's harbor was searched for scrolls. And scholars translated all works into Greek, building a huge cosmopolitan archive. The great library at Alexandria held between 400 and 700,000 scrolls, making it the largest collection of texts in the ancient world. You stand up from the table and make your way to a small staircase, going down toward the stacks beneath the reading room. Although they're no longer open to the public, you have special access tonight to the library's deep, hidden heart. You follow a small brass sign that says, authorized access. You pass into a narrow hallway, and it feels even quieter here. And then throw another door as you enter a cool, dim world. Metal shelves rise on either side of you, heavy with books. The air smells even older here, like parchment and leather. Your footsteps echo on the worn linoleum. As you walk down a stack, you brush the spines of the books with your fingertip. Some are cloth, some are leather. They have embossed, lettering. You are here hanging out with thousands of minds, millions of ideas, whole other worlds. It is unlimited, all tucked away neatly on pages. We've gone from writing on rocks to papyrus to paper. As we continue to gather our minds together, strengthening our humanity. Your finger stops on one spine. This book feels right. You pull it from the shelf. Its cover is worn and smooth. Its title is gilded and slightly faded. But this is the perfect book for you tonight. As you open to the first page, the paper crackles softly. You read a line and it fills you. You smile because this is the book you came for. You find a corner within the stack tucked away. A small alcove lined with dark wood. And in it, you find a single D armchair. Beside a lap. You sink into the chair. And it creaks softly under your weight. You rest the book on your lap. Turning the pages slowly as you are filled by the words. Entering into you as images and feelings and ideas. You are filled and changed and transported. You are free. And here you are in the heart of the building. So relaxed. So full. So peaceful. As you go deeper. And deeper. Your eyelids are growing heavier. And you lean back. And you feel the texture of the armrests beneath your fingertips. And your whole body is breathing itself. Peacefully. Calmly. Without effort. Shoulders soften. Your jaw releases. And your whole body settles into rest. And you feel satisfied. So you close the book. And the chair becomes a bed. And the lights go down. And you are hell in the heart of the library. Safe and sound. As you drift. And float. And dream. And you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free. So you are free.
