Let It Rain Tonight

What to expect

Some people say rain washes things clean. Lying in bed with the light off, you listen to the rain on the roof and the window, let its sound fall over you, and the day rinses off, head to feet, nothing of it looked at again. Soft felt piano plays inside the rain and thins away, and then there is only the rain, still falling after the voice has gone.

How to listen:

• In bed, lying down, the light off.
• Headphones bring out the soft binaural beats; a speaker is fine too.
• If you fall asleep before the end, that’s fine.

About

Safety and aftercare. Nothing here asks you to hold your breath or do anything at all. If sleep comes before the end, let it.

Credits. Letting the day go at bedtime without reviewing it, and rain met just as it is, are Michael Singer’s teaching. Listening by letting sounds come to you is from Sumi Loundon Kim’s Meditation Handbook.

Written by Lucas + Twins. Voice: Jenna.

Transcript

Opening

Some people say rain washes things clean.

A street. A garden. A whole year.

Tonight it can do that for one day.

So let it rain.

Let it rain all night.

Lie back in your bed.

Let your eyes close.

The light is off.

Feel the bed under your back.

The pillow under your head.

The covers resting over you.

Outside, it is raining.

Part one: The rain on the roof

Listen to the rain.

Hear it on the roof.

The glass of the window.

The drops close by.

The far rain, further off.

The steady sound between drops.

You are warm and dry.

The rain stays outside.

Part two: The day rinsing off

Let the sound of it fall over you.

Soft and warm, at the top of your head.

Let the day rinse off, slowly.

Over your face and shoulders.

Out through your arms and hands.

Down your chest and belly.

On down your legs, to your feet.

Whatever the day left goes too.

No need to look at it.

The rain carries it.

Part three: Going with the rain

Let each breath out go with the sound.

The bed takes your weight.

Let the rain have what is left.

Nothing to go back over.

Part four: Only the rain

Only the rain now.

Its sound on the roof.

And on the window.

The dark room around you.

Your breath, slow by itself.

You can drift off in it.