← Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories
Loading summary
Transcript3 lines
- [00:01]
A
Get Sleepy is a production of Slumber Studios. To listen ad free, access our entire catalogue of episodes and support the show directly. Check out our premium feed by going to getsleepy.com support. Now a quick word from our sponsors. If you love Get Sleepy or any of the other shows we produce here at Samba Studios, you'll love our app called White Noise Deep Sleep Sounds. With hundreds of sounds to choose from and the option to create custom mixes for your perfect soundscape, it can help you sleep better, improve focus, reduce anxiety, relieve tinnitus and calm babies. As a listener of Get Sleepy, we have an exclusive offer for you. Download the White Noise Deep Sleep Sounds app and get 30 days free access to all of the premium content. Just go to deepsleepsounds.com getsleepy that's deepsleepsounds.com getssleepy did you know Our company Slumber Studios also has a sleep app called Slumber with thousands of episodes including stories, meditations, soundscapes, music and audiobooks. It has a huge variety of sleep inducing content and we add new episodes every single day. You can search by narrator, hear episodes you won't find on Get Sleepy and even customize your background sounds to create your own perfect mix. As a listener of Get Sleepy, you can unlock all of the content in the app. Free for one month. Just go to Slumber FM GetSleepy that's Slumber FM GetSleepy for instant access to all of the content in Slumber. Free for one month. Welcome to Get Sleepy where we listen, we relax and we get sleepy. My name is Thomas. Thank you so much for being here. We're now coming to you five nights a week and in this evening's story. We'll be traveling to Egypt where we'll enjoy a relaxing ride along the Nile River. This is the first part in a two episode miniseries written by Kathleen and read by Arif. Part two will be coming your way this Thursday. So my friends, as you start to settle in for the night, find a comfortable position and let your body sink into the mattress beneath you. Notice the feeling of the fabric against your sk. As you lie here. Try to let go of any tension that you're holding in your body. Start with your toes. Imagine there's a warm ball of energy flowing through your toes one by one, dissolving any strain or discomfort that you may have held on to during the day. Now guide this ball of warmth up through your feet and legs, feeling lighter as it moves through your lower body. Breathe in and out, feeling any discomfort melt away. Relax your forehead Loosen your jaw and let your eyelids become heavy. Feel your body becoming loose and limp as that warm ball of energy spreads through you. Now take one more deep breath in, and as you exhale, imagine the sound of a whispering breeze. You're on a houseboat on the Nile River. This is where our story begins.
- [05:42]
B
When you wake, the faintest blush of dawn is just beginning to stretch across the horizon. The call of a moezzin, the person who calls Muslims to prayer, echoes across the stillness of the river. Its consistency is reassuring, a rhythm and pattern that you have familiarized yourself with. The air is cool, the kind of crispness that promises the heat of the day is still far off. It's a fleeting prelude to the scorching afternoon that will come later. Lying in your berth on the houseboat, you can hear the gentle lapping of the Nile against the hull. It's a rhythmic, hypnotic sound that puts you at ease. You pull back the light linen drapes of your cabin window, and the river reveals itself to you. It's shrouded in a delicate mist that seems to rise from the water itself. For a moment, it's as though the houseboat is suspended between worlds, drifting lazily through the ether as the Nile's edges blur, the trees and the distant hills fading into soft, indistinct shapes. The sky is painted in layers of pink and gold by the rising sun. The call of the river is irresistible. You rise and dress in a light tunic and sandals, feeling the coolness of the wood beneath your feet as you step out onto the deck. The houseboat, your temporary home, creaks quietly in greeting as it continues its slow, steady journey downstream. A crewman is dressed in a traditional jellabiya, a long robe worn by both men and women in Egypt and other parts of the Middle East. He moves silently to prepare the deck for the day ahead. The crewman gives you a nod and a quiet good morning in Arabic, his face creased in a smile. You return the greeting and lean against the rail, watching as the world begins to awaken. The Nile is wide and placid here, the water a deep, endless blue that reflects the pastel sky above. Along the banks, the tall papyrus reeds sway in the early morning breeze. Their rustling mixes with the calls of birds, which are beginning to stir in the branches of the date palms that line the shore. You spot a few feluccas, their graceful sails still furled. These are the traditional sailboats of Egypt, single sailed craft that sit low in the water. Their crews are just now beginning to stir as the first light of day touches the land somewhere behind you. The boat's cook is already at work in the small galley. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the earthy scent of the river. You breathe it in deeply, feeling the coolness of the air fill your lungs. It's impossible to stand on the deck of a boat gliding down the Nile without imagining the great pharaohs who once ruled this land. The river was their lifeblood, the highway that shaped Egypt, its waters carrying grain from the rich, dark soil of the delta to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. You picture the barges of Hatshepsut and Ramesses, festooned with flowers, laden with offerings to the gods as they floated past these very banks. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. It's as though you can feel the weight of history, the vastness of the past, flowing just beneath the surface. The Nile was not merely a river to the ancient Egyptians, it was a divine force that made civilization possible. Without it, there would be no talk of ancient Egypt, of pharaohs and sphinxes, tombs and temples. The annual flooding, known as the inundation, deposited nutrient rich silt which allowed agriculture to thrive. This abundance of food supported a growing population and gave rise to the sophisticated irrigation techniques that would influence later civilizations. The river's centrality to life extended far beyond the physical. In Egyptian mythology, the Nile played a pivotal role in the most significant myth of all, the story of Osiris, the God of fertility, the dead and regeneration. According to legend, Osiris, once a king of Egypt, was betrayed and killed by his jealous brother, Set. His body was placed in a coffin and cast into the Nile's waters. Osiris devoted wife, Isis, recovered and reassembled his body. He then became the king of the underworld. The Egyptians believed that the fertile waters of the Nile, enriched by the sediments left behind after the floods, were linked to Osiris and the promise of life after death. There is in this something profoundly poetic, something that recognized that the earth never fully takes. It always regenerates in some way. The sun begins to climb higher in the sky, burning off the last of the morning mist. As the boat glides onward, the landscape unfolds before you, revealing scenes that feel as though they could have been lifted from an ancient tomb painting. On the far bank, a farmer in a broad brimmed hat and loose robes leads a pair of oxen through a field, their plow cutting neat furrows into the soil. Nearby, a woman crouches beside the river, her clay jar resting on her hip. As she gathers water, her movements are slow and graceful. She sets her jar down carefully and reaches into the river. Her hands move gently through the water as though to test its temperature. Then the woman stands, lifting the jar with both hands. She steps into the shallows, her feet barely disturbing the smooth surface of the Nile. With her body poised at the meeting point between land and water, she tilts the jar in a careful motion until the water begins to pour in with a soft musical sound. Her eyes are closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. As she fills the jar, you begin to understand the deeper significance of her actions. The Nile was once worshiped as Hopi, the God of fertility and life, and it has always been revered as the source of Egypt's abundance. In ancient times, the rising and falling of the river dictated the fortunes of the land. Its annual inundation delivered the rich silt that transformed barren desert into fertile fields. To these people, the river is more than just a natural resource. It is a living entity, a divine force that must be honored and respected. You can imagine the woman's ancestors, perhaps thousands of years ago, performing a similar ceremony as she steps back onto the shore, her jar now heavy with the weight of the water. She pauses and bends low, touching the earth with her free hand. It's a gesture of thanks, perhaps to both the land and the river, an acknowledgment of the delicate balance that allows life to flourish. Here she stands again, her movements fluid and unhurried, and begins the slow walk back to her village, the jar balanced effortlessly on her shoulder. You watch her retreating figure, her outline sharp against the brightening sky, and your mind drifts to the rituals of ancient Egypt. You think of the great festivals held in honor of Hoppy, where offerings were made to ensure the river's continued bounty. Priests in white linen would stand at the river's edge, pouring libations of milk and honey, while the people gathered to sing hymns of praise. Perhaps, you think, this simple act of gathering water is all that remains of those ancient celebrations, a quiet, personal ceremony passed down through the generations like a secret prayer. The woman disappears into the trees, and the boat continues its journey downstream. The scene on the bank shifts, but the sense of timelessness lingers. You imagine the countless rituals that have taken place along this river, the prayers whispered in the soft light of dawn and the offerings made to the gods who once watched over these waters. The Nile, it seems, is not just a river. It is a living history, a thread that connects past and present, carrying with it the stories of all who have come before. You turn your gaze to the east, where the rising sun casts a golden light over the temple ruins that dot the landscape. There, half buried in sand and shadow, lies the ancient city of Thebes. The great columns of Karnak stand like ancient guardians. Their tops are still crowned with papyrus and lotus motifs, symbols of life and rebirth. You imagine the priests of Amun walking among those columns, their chants rising to the heavens as they performed their sacred duties. There is a strange stillness to this land. It's as though the weight of history has settled over it like a heavy cloak, pressing the present down into the dust. The ruins seem to hold their breath, waiting for something, perhaps the return of the gods themselves. The houseboat's engine hums as you make your way to the aft deck deck, where breakfast has been laid out beneath a striped canopy. The table is simple but inviting, set with fresh bread, a bowl of ripe figs, and a plate of dates glistening with honey. The crew has also peppered a pot of mint tea, its aroma filling the air with a sweet, herbal fragrance. You sit down and tear off a piece of bread, dipping it into a dish of olive oil and za'. Atar. The bread is soft and fragrant, its crust still warm and crisp from the oven. As you dip it, the oil gleams golden in the early morning light, pooling in the shallow grooves of the za', atar, a deep green mixture of thyme, oregano and sumac, dusted with sesame seeds. The aroma is heady and inviting, a mingling of earthy herbs and the sharp, citrusy tang of sumac. As you take your first bite, the flavors unfurl on your tongue, rich and complex. The slight chewiness of the bread provides the perfect contrast to the olive oil, which is silky and smooth, carrying with it the faintest hint of the sun baked hills where it was pressed. The herbal warmth of the zaatar fills your mouth, while the sesame seeds add a delicate crunch. There is something grounding about this moment, sitting here in the cool morning air, surrounded by the sound of the river and the distant calls of birds. You take a sip of mint tea, the warmth spreading through your chest. The boat continues its slow journey northward, the landscape shifting subtly as you pass from one village to to the next. The banks of the river are now alive with activity. Children splashing in the shallows, farmers tending to their crops, and women in bright robes spreading laundry on the rocks to dry in the sun. There is a sense of continuity here, a feeling that life on the Nile has changed little over the centuries. The people who live along its banks have learned to move in harmony with the river to bend their lives to its will. By mid morning, the sun is high in the sky, casting a brilliant light over the river and the desert beyond. The heat is beginning to rise, though a gentle breeze still blows across the water, cooling your skin as the boat glides onward. Ahead, you can see the outlines of more temples, their massive stone facades rising like islands in a sea of sand. The captain slows the boat as it approaches the landing, where a small jetty juts out into the river. You disembark with a few of the other passengers, you your feet sinking into the sand as you make your way toward the ruins of Kom Ombo. This temple, dedicated to both Sabek, the crocodile God, and Horus, the falcon God, stands on a rise overlooking the Nile. Its twin sanctuaries cast long shadows across the stone courtyard. Walking through the temple's massive gate, you feel a sense of awe wash over you. The walls are covered in intricate carvings, scenes of gods and pharaohs etched into the stone with exquisite detail. You run your fingers over the cool surface, tracing the lines of a hieroglyph. This temple has stood here for thousands of years, its stones weathered by time and the elements. Yet still it endures. The heat of the day is beginning to build now, and the sun beats down on your shoulders as you make your way back to the boat. The air is heavy with the scent of sun warmed stone and the sweet fragrance of jasmine that grows in wild clusters along the path. You pause for a moment at the river's edge, dipping your hand into the cool water and feeling the current tug gently at your skin. By midday, the heat is intense, the stuff of mirages and the yearning for an oasis. The sun blazes overhead with a fierceness that makes the air shimmer above the water. You retreat to the shaded deck of the houseboat, where the crew has set out pitchers of cool hibiscus tea and glistening slices of melon. The breeze off the river is warm now, but it still carries a hint of moisture, offering a brief and welcome respite from the heat. The boat moves onward, the sound of the engine a low, steady hum in the background. The riverbanks are quieter now, the midday sun driving people indoors. Even the birds seem to have fallen silent, their songs replaced by the rustle of palm fronds swaying in the breeze. You lie back on a cushioned lounge chair, sipping your tea and watching the landscape slide by. The river is narrower here, the banks rising steeply on either side. Their rocky faces are dotted with scrubby bushes and the occasional cluster of Date palms. In the distance, you can see the outlines of more ruins, their jagged forms etched against the bright blue sky. As the boat continues its journey, you feel yourself drifting into a state of quiet reverie, your mind wandering through the vast stretches of time that this river has seen. You think of the ancient Egyptians, their lives so intimately dyed to the rhythms of the Nile and their beliefs shaped by the cycles of the river's floods and droughts. You think of the Greek and Roman explorers who sailed these waters, marveling at the wonders of Egypt's great cities and monuments. And you think of the medieval traders who plied the river with their goods, their boats laden with spices and silk, their journeys marked by both danger and adventure. The Nile has always been a place of convergence, a meeting point for different cultures. And now here you are, just one more traveler on this ancient river. Your journey a brief moment in the Nile's endless flow. By early afternoon, the heat has reached its peak. The air is heavy and still, the sun a blazing orb high in the sky. The crew has drawn the canvas awning over the deck, casting a cool shadow over the lounge chairs. You settle into one of them, a light breeze ruffling the pages of the book you've been half heartedly trying to read. But the heat has made you drowsy and soon you find yourself setting the book aside, your eyes growing heavy as the boat rocks beneath you. You close your eyes, listening to the murmur of the river as it flows past the hull. The sound is soothing, like a lullaby. You feel yourself drifting into a peaceful sleep, your body sinking into the cushions as the boat carries you ever onward. Your eyes flutter open and shut. Instead of waking fully, you let the soft sway of the boat pull you back under. The golden light that filters through your closed eyelids is warm, dappled, like sun through leaves, and it lulls you deeper into a dreamlike state. You stretch slightly, but your limbs feel heavy, content to rest, and the murmurs of the river become a distant hum. The boat moves on, the water gently slapping against its sides, the sound blurring with the slow rhythm of your breath. You sink further into the cushions, feeling the weight of sleep settle over you like a blanket. In your half conscious state, the line between dream and reality blurs. The Nile is is still there, but now it carries with it whispers from another time. Echoes of forgotten songs, fragments of ancient prayers carried on the breeze. You see flashes of alabaster temples glinting in the fading light, and priests in white linen robes walking the banks, their chants rising and falling like the current. The boat glides forward, but you are no longer sure where it is taking you. It could be today. It could be centuries ago. Time seems to dissolve as your mind drifts further, your body growing heavier with each passing moment. The golden hues of the sunset melt into deeper tones of amber and rose, the sky and river merging into one. As the stars begin to twinkle faintly above, You slip deeper into the dream. The slow pulse of the river is like a heartbeat, steady and calming, carrying you effortlessly into a deep, restful sleep. The Nile, ever faithful, will carry you onward, its quiet, ancient song lulling you into the warm embrace of slumber. There is no need to wake just yet. The journey will continue, but for now, you let yourself drift.
- [37:32]
A
Sam.