Jessica Porter (0:11)

Hi, I'm Jessica Porter, and welcome back to Sleep Magic, a podcast where I help you find the magic of your own mind, helping you to sleep better and live better. Thank you, everybody for being here tonight. I so appreciate you listening and sending us feedback. And we heard recently from someone named Suzanne in Norway, and she says, I've been struggling with sleep since I was a child. I'm 32, and these last few months after I found this amazing podcast, I've been sleeping better than ever before. In the beginning, I had to hear two to three episodes before I finally fell asleep. Now I'm off right after I've wiggled my eyebrows. Thank you, Jessica, for saving my life and for teaching me how to rest and eventually sleep. Thank you so much, Suzanne. And I just want to say, for the record, you know, I'm just giving suggestions. You are taking them and you are practicing. And really, you are retraining your own body and mind to make friends with sleep again. So well done. And that's how it works. This is a practice. And just like you've learned to speak your native tongue or ride a bike or, you know, eat with a fork and a knife or chopsticks or whatever, you can learn to relax. It's that simple. So that's what you've done, Suzanne. And your journey from two to three episodes a night to just wiggling your eyebrows goes to show that this gets better and better and easier and easier. And I'm really grateful to have helped facilitate this process in you. So thanks for letting us know and good evening, Norway. Before we get started, let's hear a quick word from our sponsors who make this free content possible. Hey, Sleep Magic listeners. You know that on Sleep Magic, we explore things like anxiety, stress, and loss, because those real life challenges don't just disappear when the day ends. And while sleep, hypnosis and meditation can be deeply healing, there are times when what we're facing calls for a different kind of support. Someone trained to help talk us through what's going on. And that's where RULA comes in. Therapy has been part of my own journey, and I know how powerful it is to feel truly heard and supported. So whether you're going through something specific or just feeling a little stuck, having the right person to talk to can make all the difference. And RULA makes it easy to find a therapist who gets you. You just answer a few quick questions, and they'll match you with licensed therapists who meet your needs and take your insurance. Most RULA members pay as little as $15 a session and you could book your first appointment as early as this week. Thousands of people are already using Rula to support their mental health, so if therapy's been on your mind, this could be the nudge you need. So head on over to rula.com sleepmagic to get started today. After you sign up, they'll ask you where you heard about them. So please support our show and tell them our show sent you. Go to r-u l a.com sleepmagic and take your first step towards better mental health Today. You deserve quality care from someone who cares. This episode is brought to you by LifeLock. It's tax season and we're all a bit tired of numbers, but here's one you need to $16.5 billion. That's how much the IRS flagged for possible identity fraud last year. Now here's a good number. 100 million. That's how many data points LifeLock monitors every second. If your identity is stolen, they'll fix it, guaranteed. Save up to 40% your first year@lifelock.com podcast terms apply. I talk a lot about how important it is to set yourself up for good sleep, and if you're looking for something to add to your bedtime toolkit, you should check out Sleep Escape. Every episode of Sleep Escape is carefully designed to help you drift off effortlessly with meditations, ambient soundscapes, and soothing narration. Whether you need a short wind down before bed or hours of affirmations to keep your subconscious cozy all night long, this show has something for you. So if you love sleep Magic and want another relaxing, sleep friendly option to enjoy between episodes, search for Sleep Escape in your favorite podcast player and give it a listen. Sweet dreams. All right, tonight, Little Women. I just want to say a handful of people have requested that I read from Little Women, so thank you for reaching out. Little Women was written by Louisa May Alcott in 1868, the first of two books that were published separately, the second being called Good Wives, but which were quite quickly put together as one. Alcott never wanted to write a book for girls or about girls. She had no interest in it, and perhaps that's part of why it was so successful. She wasn't too attached. She wrote what she knew and banged it out in just 10 weeks, which is ridiculously fast for any writer. And when it was done, she didn't particularly like it, nor did her publisher. But when he showed it to his niece, well, she devoured it, as did many other young girls they showed it to, and it has been devoured by millions Ever since, Little Women has been translated into 50 languages and has never been out of print in 160 years. Little Women takes place during the Civil War and is the story of the March sisters, based loosely, and sometimes not so loosely, on the characters in Alcott's actual life. She had three sisters and a mother, all with distinct personalities, voices and needs. By capturing them, she seemed to create a whole new mashup of literary genres. Little Women was autobiographical or semi autobiographical, but it was also a coming of age novel. And in this respect, it was ahead of its time, a new form of realism. And it was about girls, multiple female protagonists, while their father was away at war, growing, learning and handling what life brought their way without the central anchor of a father figure. That was new. And the story isn't a typical story per se. Unlike a narrative arc with one protagonist or hero going on one big adventure, Little Women is more of a tapestry woven from the lives of these separate sisters and their sometimes messy expansions into womanhood. There were so many personalities in Little Women that every reader could identify with someone or different aspects of many someones. And remember at the time, society's ambition for almost every young girl was to be well married and raise a house full of children. So Louisa May Alcott, expressing herself through the character of Joe, who questions some of those mainstream mandates or at least shows some resistance and agency and creativity outside of domesticity. No shade to domesticity, by the way. That may be what makes Little Women the enduring classic that it has become. It dared to speak truths in contrast to the social pressures of the time. And yet its style is warm, intimate, accessible. A perfect book to curl up with and be comforted by, even 160 years later. So tonight I'll be reading from Little Women. It's been slightly edited for sleeping purposes, but it covers the time when Laurie goes to the south of France to visit Amy. As always, we'll begin with some relaxation, but then just allow Alcott's words to take you deeper and deeper into your own experience of her writing and of the world of Little Women. So get yourself into a safe and comfortable position. And let's begin. Allow your eyes to close easily and gently. And now I'd like you to bring your awareness back to your body, back to your breath. Just imagine your awareness is like a little surfer surfing the wave of your breath. As your awareness settles down a bit, it's never going to stop, but it's nice to help it slow down. Great. So now I'd like you to bring your awareness up into Your eyelids. Imagine that your eyelids are feeling heavy, sleepy and relaxed. And now you're noticing that your eyelids are in fact feeling heavy and relaxed. And now I'd like you to accept the suggestion that your eyelids are so relaxed they can't open, that your eyes are kind of stuck shut now. They're not stuck shut. Let's be clear. But I want you to imagine that just for this moment, you can't open your eyes. And by imagining that you can't open your eyes, you're actually entering into a deeper part of your mind where your imagination lives. So bear with me. I want you to test your eyelids now and prove to yourself that you can't open your eyes by wiggling your eyebrows. Good. And this is where we lose Susanna in Norway and lots and lots of other listeners. Bye bye. Now. This lovely relaxation you have around your eyes, this is the same relaxation that you want will soon have throughout your entire body. In fact, if you've been listening to Sleep Magic for a while, it's already moving back into your head, down into your shoulders, down your arms, into your hands. Maybe that relaxation is already moving down into your torso, into inside of you. Imagine a warm relaxation sort of spiraling down inside your chest, deep down into your belly. As your head is feeling heavier and heavier on the pillow and the muscles of your face are letting go. It's almost like your brain feels heavy in your skull. And that's okay, because your mind is letting go. Any mental tension you've been carrying around today has disappeared. And this warm, lovely relaxation, which is also moving down in your chest and down into your belly, is causing your whole body to feel heavy on the bed. Just notice the points of contact between your body and the mattress. And let yourself feel heavy sinking in to the mattress as it supports you and holds you and lets you let let go. Good. As the muscles of your lower back are softening and releasing muscles in your belly that you may hold during the day. Softening and relaxing. Allow your hands, if they're closed, to open up as any excess tension or energy you've been holding move out of your palms, taking you deeper and deeper. 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 relaxing. And any sounds that you may hear going on around you, let them take you deeper and even deeper into this lovely, freeing relaxation. And the sound of my voice is also taking you deeper and deeper into relaxation. As the wonderful, warm relaxation moves down into your legs. Now Your legs are feeling nice and heavy and warm and relaxed, relaxing all the way down into your feet and your toes letting go, letting go. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon, all the fashionable world at Nice may be seen on the Promenade des Anglais, a charming place for the wide walk bordered with palms, flowers and tropical shrubs, is bounded on one side by the sea, on the other by the grand drive lined with hotels and villas, while beyond lie orange orchards and the hills. Many nations are represented, many languages spoken, many costumes worn, and on a sunny day the spectacle is as jovial and brilliant as a carnival. Prim English, lively French, hospitable Germans, handsome Spaniards, fashionable Russians, free and easy Americans all drive, sit or saunter here, chatting over the news and criticizing the latest celebrity who has arrived, Ristori or Dickens, Victor Emmanuel or the Queen of the Sandwich Islands? The equipages are as varied as the company and attract as much attention. Attention especially the low basket barouche in which ladies drive themselves with a pair of dashing ponies, gay nets to keep their voluminous flounces from overflowing the diminutive vehicles and little grooms on the perch behind. Along this walk on Christmas Day, a tall young man walked slowly with his hands behind him and a somewhat absent expression of countenance. He looked like an Italian, was dressed like an Englishman, and had the independent air of an American, a combination which caused sundry pairs of feminine eyes to look approvingly after him and sundry dandies in black velvet suits with rose colored neckties, buff gloves and orange flowers in their buttonholes to shrug their shoulders and then envy him. There were plenty of pretty faces to admire, but the young man took little notice of them except a glance now and then at some blonde woman in blue. Presently he strolled out of the promenade and stood a moment at the crossing as if undecided whether to go and listen to the band in the Jardin Publique or to wander along the beach toward Castle Hill. The quick trot of ponies feet made him look up as one of the little carriages containing a single young lady came rapidly down the street. The lady was young, blonde and dressed in blue. He stared a minute, then his whole face woke up, and waving his hat like a boy, he hurried forward to meet her. Oh, Laurie, is it really you? I thought you'd know. Never come. Cried Amy, dropping the reins and holding out both hands to the great scandalization of a French mother who hastened her daughter's steps lest she should be demoralized by beholding the Free manners of these mad English. I was detained, but I promised to spend Christmas with you and here I am, Laurie replied, replied, greeting her with a bright smile. How is your grandfather? When did you come? Where are you staying? She implored as she gathered him in a friendly embrace. He's very well. Last night I stayed at the Chauvin. I called your hotel but you were out, he said, holding her close. I have so much to say, I don't know where to begin. Amy rambled in a delighted fashion. Get in and we can talk at our ease. I was going for a drive and longing for company. There's a Christmas party at our hotel tonight. You will go with us? Of course. Aunt will be charmed. Thank you. Where now? Asked Laurie, leaning back and folding his arms. A proceeding which suited Amy, who preferred to drive for her parasol whip and blue reins over the white pine ponies backs afforded her infinite satisfaction. I'm going to the bankers, first for letters and then to Castle Hill. The view is so lovely and I like to feed the peacocks. Now tell me all about yourself. The last I heard of you, your grandfather wrote that he expected you from Berlin. Amy chatted as she held the reins. Yes, I spent a month there and then joined him in Paris where he had settled for the winter. He has friends there and finds plenty to amuse him, so I come and go. We get on capitally, you see. He hates to travel and I hate to keep still, so we each suit ourselves and there's no trouble. I'm often with him and he enjoys my adventures while I like to feel that someone's glad to see me when I get back from my wanderings, he added. As they drove along the boulevard to the Place Napoleon in the old city, Laurie watched a procession of priests and white veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers pass by on their way to church. Amy watched him and felt a new sort of shyness steal over her, for he was changed and she could not find the merry faced boy. She left, left back at home in the brooding man beside her. He was more handsome than ever and greatly improved, she thought. She shook her head to wave away the thought and checked on her ponies as a procession wound away across the arches of the Palione Bridge and vanished into the church. Que pensez vous, she said, airing her French, which had improved in quantity if not in quality since she came abroad. That mademoiselle has made good use of her time and the result is charming, replied Laurie, bowing with his hand on his heart and an admiring look. She blushed with pleasure. But somehow the compliment did not satisfy her like the blunt praises he used to give her at home when he promenaded round her on festival occasions and told her she was altogether jolly, with a hearty smile and an approving pat on the head. She didn't like the new tone, for though not blase, it sounded indifferent despite the look he gave her. After collecting Amy's letters from the bankers, they stopped at Castle Hill and descended from the carriage. This will be a regularly merry Christmas to me, with presents in the morning, you and letters in the afternoon, and a party at night, said Amy as they alighted among the ruins of the old fort and a flock of splendid peacocks came trooping about them tamely waiting to be fed, while Amy stood laughing on the bank above him as she scattered crumbs to the brilliant birds. Laurie looked at her as she had looked at him, with a natural curiosity to see what changes time and absence had wrought. He found nothing to perplex or disappoint, much to admire and approve for overlooking a few little affectations of speech and manner, she was as sprightly and graceful as ever with the addition of that indescribable something in dress and bearing which we call elegance. Always mature for her age, she had gained a certain aplomb in the way she carried herself and conversation, which made her seem more of a woman of the world than she was. But her strong will still held its own, and her native frankness was unspoiled by foreign polish. Laurie did not read all this while he watched her feed the peacocks, but he saw enough to satisfy and interest him, and carried away a pretty little picture of a bright faced woman standing in the sunshine, which brought out the soft hue of her dress, the fresh color of her cheeks, the golden gloss of her hair, and made her a prominent figure in the pleasant scene. It must be recorded of Amy that she deliberately primped that night, for the party. Time and absence had done its work on both the young people. She had seen her old friend in a new light, not as our boy, but as a handsome and agreeable man, and she was conscious of a very natural desire to find favor in his sight. Amy knew her good points and made the most of them with the taste and skill which she possessed. Tarlata and tulle were cheap in Nice, so she enveloped herself in them on such occasions, and following the sensible English fashion of simple dress for young women, she got up charming little toilette with fresh flowers, a few trinkets, and all manner of dainty devices which were both inexpensive and effective. I do want him to think I look well and tell them so at home, said Amy to herself as she put on Flo's old white silk ball dress and covered it with a cloud of fresh illusion out of which her white shoulders and golden head emerged with a most artistic effect. Her hair she had the sense to, let alone after gathering up the thick wool waves and curls into a knot at the back of her head. Having no ornaments fine enough for this important occasion, Amy looped her fleecy skirts with rosy clusters of azalea and framed the white shoulders in delicate green vines. Remembering the painted boots, she surveyed her white satin slippers with satisfaction and chassayed down the room, admiring her aristocratic feet all by herself she looked unusually happy and graceful as she glided away. She walked up and down the long saloon while waiting for Laurie and arranged herself under the chandelier, which had a good effect upon her hair. But then she thought better of it and went away to the other end of the room as if embarrassed by her desire to have the first view, a propitious one. It so happened that she could not have done a better, better thing, for Laurie came in so quietly she did not hear him, and as she stood at the distant window with her head half turned and one hand gathering up her dress, the slender white figure against the red curtains was effective as a well placed statue. Good evening, Diana, said Laurie with a look of satisfaction she liked to see in his eyes when they rested on her. Good evening, Apollo, she answered, smiling back at him, for he too looked unusually debonair. The thought of entering the ballroom on the arm of such a personable man caused Amy to pity every other woman that would be in attendance at the party from the bottom of her heart. The company assembled in the long salle. A manger that evening was such as one sees nowhere but on the continent. The hospitable Americans had invited every acquaintance they had in Nice. Any young woman can imagine Amy's state of mind when she took the stage that night. Leaning on Laurie's arm, she knew she looked well. She loved to dance and enjoyed the delightful sense of power which comes when girls first discover the new and lovely kingdom they are born to rule by virtue of beauty, youth, and womanhood. With the first burst of the band, Amy's color rose, her eyes began to sparkle, and her feet tapped the floor impatiently, for she danced well and wanted Laurie to know it. Laurie said in a perfectly tranquil tone, do you care to dance? One usually does at a ball, she quipped her amazed look and quick answer caused Laurie to repair his error as fast as possible. I meant the first dance. May I have the honor? I can give you one if I put off the count. He dances divinely, but he will excuse me, as you are an old friend, said Amy, hoping that the name would have a good effect and show Laurie that she was not to be trifled with. It was a lively scene, for soon the spirit of the social season took possession of everyone, and Christmas merriment made all faces shine, hearts happy and heels light. The musicians fiddled, tooted, and played as if they enjoyed it. Everybody danced who could, and those who couldn't admire their neighbors with warmth. Where did you learn all this sort of thing? Laurie asked with a quizzical look, as this sort of thing is rather a vague expression. Would you kindly explain? Returned Amy, knowing perfectly well what he meant, but leaving him to describe what is indescribable. Well, the general air, the style, the self, possession, the illusion, you know, laughed Laurie. Amy was gratified, but of course she didn't show it and demurely answered, foreign life polishes one in spite of oneself. I study as well as play and ask for this dress. Why, tulle is cheap posies to be had for nothing, and I'm used to making the most of my poor little things. Amy rather regretted that last sentence, worrying it wasn't in good taste. But Laurie liked her better for it, and found himself both admiring and respecting the brave patience that made the most of opportunity and the cheerful spirit that covered poverty with flowers. Amy did not know why he loved, looked at her so kindly, and devoted himself to her for the rest of the evening in the most delightful manner. But the impulse that wrought this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions which both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving. Laurie went to Nice, intending to stay a week, and remained a month. He was tired of wandering about alone, and Amy's familiar presence seemed to give a homelike charm to the foreign scenes in which she bore a part. He rather missed the affection he used to receive and enjoyed a taste of it again for no attention, however flattering, from strangers, were half so pleasant as the sisterly adoration of the girls at home. Amy would never pet him like the others, but she was very glad to see him now, and quite clung to him, feeling that he was the representative of the dear family for whom she longed more than she would confess. They naturally took comfort in each other's society and were much together, riding, walking, dancing, or dawdling for at Nice. No one can be very industrious during the holiday season, but while apparently amusing themselves in the most careless fashion, they were half consciously making discoveries and forming opinions about each other. All the rest have gone to Monaco for the day. I preferred to stay at home and write letters. They're done now and I'm going to Valrosa to sketch. Will you come? Said Amy as she joined Laurie one lovely day when he lounged in as usual about noon. Well, yes, but isn't it rather warm for such a long walk? He answered slowly, for the shaded salon looked inviting after the glare without I'm going to have the little carriage and Baptiste can drive, so you'll have nothing to do but hold your umbrella and keep your gloves. Nice, returned Amy with a sarcastic glance. Then I'll go with pleasure. And he put out his hand for her sketchbook, but she tucked it under her arm with a remark. Don't trouble yourself, it's no exertion to me, but you don't look equal to it. Laurie lifted his eyebrows and followed at a leisurely pace as she ran downstairs, but when they got into the carriage he took the reins himself and left little Baptiste nothing to do but fold his arms and fall asleep on his perch. The two never quarreled. Amy was too well bred and just now Laurie was too lazy, so in a minute he peeped under her hat brim with an inquiring air. She answered him with a smile and they went on together in the most amicable manner. It was a lovely drive along winding roads, rich in the picturesque scenes that delight beauty loving eyes. Here an ancient monastery whence the solemn chanting of the monks came down to them. There a bare legged shepherd in wooden shoes, pointed hat and rough jacket over one shoulder, sat piping on a stone while his goat skipped among the rocks or lay at his feet. Meek mouse colored donkeys laden with panniers of freshly cut grass passed by with a pretty girl in a capeline sitting between the green piles, or an old woman spinning with a distaff as she went. Gnarled olive trees covered the hills with their dusky foliage, fruit hung golden in the orchard and great scarlet anemones fringed the roadside, while beyond green slopes and craggy heights the Maritime Alps rose sharp and white against the blue Italian sky. Valrosa well deserved its name, for in that climate of perpetual summer roses blossomed everywhere. They overhung the archway, thrust themselves between the bars of the great gate with a sweet welcome to passersby, and lined the avenue winding through lemon trees and feathery palms up to the villa on the hill. Every shadowy nook where seats invited one to stop and rest was a mass of bloom. Every cool grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers, and every fountain reflected crimson, white, or pale pink roses leaning down to smile at their own beauty. Roses covered the walls of the house, draped the cornices, climbed the pillars, and ran riot over the balustrade of the wide terrace whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean and the white walled city on its shore. This is a regular honeymoon paradise, isn't it? Did you ever see such roses? Asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view and a luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by. She gathered three of the tiny cream colors colored roses that starred the wall behind her. She put them in Laurie's buttonhole as a peace offering and he stood a minute looking down at them. Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather? She asked presently as she settled herself on a rustic seat. Very soon, he answered. You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks. He expects you and you really ought to go. I should only bother him if I went, so I might as well stay and bother you a little longer. You can bear it better. In fact, I think it agrees with you excellently, and Laurie composed himself for a lounge on the broad ledge of the balustrade. Amy shook her head and opened her sketchbook with an air of resignation. Let me put you into a sketch. I need a figure. She watched him for a moment with artistic pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked as he lay basking in the sun with uncovered head and eyes full of Southern dreaminess, for he seemed to have forgotten her and fallen into a revery. You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep on his watch, she remarked, carefully tracing the well cut profile defined against the dark stone. Laurie began to amuse himself by sticking daisies into the ribbons of Amy's hat that lay there. After a while Laurie sat up and said, now I'm going to play brother and ask questions. May I? I don't promise to answer, amy replied. Your face will if your tongue won't. You aren't woman of the world enough yet to hide your feelings, my dear, he teased. I heard rumors about Fred and you last year, and it's my private opinion that if he had not been called home so suddenly and detained so long, some something would have come of it. You're not engaged, I hope, and Laurie looked very elder brotherly, all of a sudden? No, amy answered, keeping her eyes firmly on her sketch. Laurie continued to press her. But you will be if he comes back and goes properly, properly down on one knee, won't you? Very likely, she admitted. Then you're fond of old Fred? Laurie smirked. I could be if I tried, she replied. But you don't intend to try till the proper moment. Bless my soul. What unearthly prudence. He's a good fellow, Amy, but not the man I fancied you'd like. He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners, began Amy, trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself in spite of this instead sincerity of her intentions. I understand queens of society can't get on without money. So you mean to make a good match and start in that way, laurie commented. Quite right and proper, as the world goes. But it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother's girls. Laurie laid himself down again with a sense of disappointment which he could not explain. Amy glanced down at him with a new thought in her mind. But he was now lying with his hat half over his face as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She saw only his chest rise and fall with a long breath that might have been a sigh, and the hand that wore a ring nestled down into the grass as if to hide something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. It. It. It.