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Spotify. My name is Sam and I was raised
high in the north west of Scotland on a little island
called sky. ever, since my late teens, I have struggled with
sleep, the origins of, which being a multitude of reasons
from then onwards, I have developed a passion for helping
people, connect with unbuttered themselves in all areas of life,
180 of which is helping others to drift off into a peaceful
sleep. Understand how the mind works.
Its complications is Tendencies its habits and how precious
sleep can become as a result. These sleep costs have been
designed with this in mind. So lie back.
Take a deep breath. And enjoy the story.
The story is called a breezy night view on Sky.
Pouncing on a Mossy Pine. Looking out to sea.
You remark at the sheer beauty of your view.
Sound of sleep. A Channel of water nestled
between the Isle of Skye and the mainland of Scotland.
So at the heart of the Western Iowa.
It is leak at night and you felt an urge to go out for a walk
into the cool night air. Thirty minutes, it took you to
climb to where, you know, sir. Leaving the house by the shore.
Aiming for the cities of gated fields which, you know, lead,
you high up the hill. You waited through long to sex
of graphs and phones. Giving the Sheep some space. so,
as not to startle them from this week, And on to the next View.
and the next, then you climbed higher.
Breaking the boundary of the ancient Woods?
Tractor and quad. The tracks carved.
Deep into the muddy airs. Sneaking their way through the
trees. Emerging from the darkness, the
trees. The landscape opens up again.
As you head Higher and Higher and altitude.
The Moon is a she done. Got a fool.
Swim nightscape is Awash with pale luminous, moonlight.
Everything, a shade of Inky blue called Black.
Twosome. Being here, may be haunting.
Two others, deeply calming, and relaxing.
To be on an isolated whole in the highlands.
In the middle of the night. Distant calling about.
The wind in the trees. Dark silhouettes of bushes.
Shrubs and trees flat against a monotone canvas of hills and
night sky. But you have come.
You know, these lumps? You are familiar with the way
that I move. The way you walk with a lumps
and bumps in the air. Scrambler Banks.
Negotiate, the body bosses. Read the lay of the land.
Even in low light. You are comfortable.
This is home. Onwards Utrecht.
Up the hill. Eyes set on a Lone Tree.
Situated. Alongside a large Rock and
Garcia pie. Favorite sport.
Step after step. You get neutered patch for the
evening. Behind it is a wall of
batteries. our uniform vibrant green, series of Lone Evergreens
in the daytime, A black. Uniform wall of darkness in
night. Between you and the trees.
Is a large fence. To keep the deer from entering
the field. Not that it tends to achieve its
purpose. Deer are clever.
And will find access any which way they please.
Often you have woken in the night to Deer outside your
bedroom window. Innocently.
Nibbling away. At the tender Cardin glass.
You don't mind their presence. You are just pleased, they find
comfort in your home. Having reached your spot.
You patted the grass with your hand.
To see how to drive or whatever it was.
Slightly down. It'll do.
You took your position. Legs resting on the gentle slope
of the bank. And he had you gaze outwardly at
the breathtaking view before you.
The moonlight glassons. I'm the choppy Waters sound.
Picking out every imperfection on its surface.
In the distance. The handful of dim streetlights,
identify the village of my leg and the mainland.
Point at which you would fail. E2 sky.
Scanning your horizon from left to right?
Just a few other lights, top landscape.
Isolated houses. Nestled in remote Glens.
Inaccessible by Road. In this part of the world.
Some elements of ancient Lifestyles live on.
The Moonlight shines across the fishes of the Mainland Motors.
Highlighting the detail in the slopes.
Casting great. Shadows cross 7 section.
The prevailing wind. Although not freezing the
strong. And it relentlessly blows clouds
in southeast. The northwest.
Sending scattered dark blotches across the land and sea.
Occasionally casting you into shadow.
The wind cuts through the trees behind you.
Creating a steady hiss and hum sometimes Rises and falls with
the velocity of the air. Close your eyes.
And lie back on the grass. Allowing your body to relax and
rest. You focus on the rush of the
Wind. Attempting to pick hurt every
Nuance of sound. Searching for the tiniest
details in the Drone. You slow down your breathing.
Concentrating on settling your heart rate after the climb.
You note how sharp your heating has become?
With your eyes closed. Every small sound has Direction.
Volume. Magnitude tone.
Your ears have become your eyes. Painting a picture.
Of your surroundings. Unique to their own.
Slower and slower your heart beats.
Approaching total vesting, rape. You take a deep breath in.
And hold it momentarily. Before slowly releasing it.
Letting go of any tension you home.
You repeat this. And take another deep breath in.
And all that momentarily. Before.
Slowly release. Letting go of any tension you
home. With your eyes still closed.
You recall, the view hope to see.
And all of its details. The moonlight.
Classroom on the choppy Waters of the sound.
Picking out every imperfection on its surface.
The Moonlight Shining. Across the fishes of the
Mainland mountains. Highlighting the detail.
In the slopes. Casting great Shadows across
certain sections. This is home.
Pouncing on a Mossy Pine. Looking out to sea.
You remark at the sheer beauty of your view.
The sound of sleep. A Channel of water nestled
between the Isle of Skye and the mainland of Scotland.
South of the heart of The Western Isles.
It is late at night and he felt an urge to go out for a walk
into the cool night air. Thirty minutes.
It took you to climb 20? No.
So Leaving the house by the shore.
Aiming for a series of gated fields.
Which, you know, lead, you high up the hill.
You waited through long, tussocks of grass and phones.
Giving the Sheep some space. so, as not to startle them from this
week, And on to the next View. and the next, then you climbed
higher. Breaking the boundary of the
ancient Woods? Tractor unquote.
The tracks carved deep into the muddy airs.
Sneaking her way through the trees.
Emerging from the darkness, the trees.
The landscape opens up again. As you head higher and higher
than altitude. The Moon is a shade under fool.
So the nightscape is Awash with pale luminous moonlight.
Everything is shade of Inky, blue.
Called Black. Twosome.
Being here, may be haunting. Two others.
Deeply calming and relaxing. To be on an isolated whole in
the highlands. In the middle of the night.
Distant calling about wills. The wind in the trees.
Dark silhouettes of bushes. Shrubs and trees flat against on
monotone canvas of hills. A night sky.
But you have come. You know, these lands.
You are familiar with the way the terrain moves.
The Way You Walk where the lumps and bumps in the air.
Scram block Banks. negotiate the boggy mosses Read the lay of the
land. Even in low light.
You are comfortable. This is home.
Onwards, you track. Up the hill.
I used to set on a Lone Tree. Situated alongside a large and
gassy Vine. Your favorite spot.
Step after step. You get nearer at pouch for the
evening. Behind.
It is a wall of that trees. Our uniform vibrant green,
series of Lone Evergreens and daytime.
A black uniform while Darkness and Light.
Between you and the trees. There's a large fence.
To keep the deer from entering the field.
Not that it tends to achieve as well.
Deer are clever. And we'll find them access any
which way? They, please.
Often, you have walking in the night.
Two deer outside your bedroom window.
Innocently. Nibbling away.
The tender card and glass. You don't mind that Pleasant.
You were just pleased, they find comfort in your home.
Having reached your spot. You padded the grass with your
hand. See how dry or wet?
It was Slightly done. It'll do.
You took your position. Legs resting on the gentle slope
of the line. and here you gaze outwardly at the breathtaking
view of or you The moonlight glistens.
On the choppy Waters sound. Picking out every imperfection
on its surface. In the distance.
The handful of them street lights, identify the village of
Mali in the mainland. Point at which you would fail.
E2 sky. Scanning your horizon from left
to right? Just a few other lights, pop
landscape. Isolated houses.
Nestled in the remote to Glens in accessible by Road.
In this part of the world. Some elements of ancient
Lifestyles Lavon. The Moonlight shines across the
fishes of the Mainland mountains.
Highlighting the detail in the slopes.
Casting great Shadows cross certain section.
The prevailing wind. Although not freezing the
strong. And the relentlessly blows
clothes from Southeast. To Northwest.
Sending scattered dark blotches across the land and sea.
Occasionally casting you into shadow.
The wind cuts through the trees behind you.
Creating a steady hiss and hum sometimes Rises and falls with
the philosophy of the air. You close your eyes and lie back
on the grass. Allowing your body to relax and
rest. You focus on the rush of the
Wind. Attempting to pick out.
Every Nuance. So, Searching for the tiniest
details in the drawn. Slow down your breathing.
Concentrating on settling your heart rate after the climb.
You notice how sharp your healing has become with your
eyes closed? Every small sound has Direction.
Volume. Magnitude.
Tone. Your ears have become your eyes.
Painting a picture. Of your surroundings.
Unique to their own. Slower and slower.
Your Heartbeats. Approaching total resting rate.
You take a deep breath in. I told it to momentarily.
Before slowly releasing it. Letting go.
Of any tension you home. You repeat this.
And take another deep breath in. And hold it momentarily.
For surely release. Letting go of any tension your
own. With your eyes closed.
You recall, the view hope to see.
And all of its details. The moonlight.
Listening on the choppy Waters of the sound.
Taking out every imperfection on its surface.
Moonlight Shining. Across the faces of the Mainland
mountains. Highlighting the detail.
In the slow. Casting great Shadows.
Across certain sections. This is home.