April 20, 2025 • 40 mins
Drift into a dreamlike journey across a moonlit sea in this calming guided sleep story. Isla’s Voyage invites you to follow a woman’s passage to a series of mystical islands—each revealing a deeper layer of stillness, memory, and truth. With soothing narration, gentle soundscapes, and poetic storytelling inspired by ancient Celtic myth, this episode is designed to ease your mind, quiet your thoughts, and carry you peacefully into restful sleep.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:04):
It is twilight.
A dusky light spills across the sea, warmand rose colored the last sigh of the day.
The tide breathes softly on theshore of a quiet tile and nestled in
(00:27):
the far reaches of the hemisphere.
So distant.
It slips between thefaults of memory and myth
here where ancient windswhisper through tall grasses,
(00:49):
seabirds, crying, slow circles overhead.
Liv's, Isla.
Her cottage is perched on alow cliff above the tide line.
It's weathered stones wrapped inwild thyme and pale honeysuckle.
(01:16):
Smoke drifts, lazily from the chimney,
carrying the scent of peat andlavender into the cooling air.
A narrow footpath, worn, smoothby her bare feet, lines through
(01:41):
wild flowers and lichen coveredstones down to the shoreline.
Ala is a weaver of dreams, not withthread and loom, but through listening,
(02:03):
truly listening to wind waves, andthe ancient silence between sounds.
(02:26):
She lives alone, but never feels alone
for her days have filled withthe presence of the sea and the
hidden music that moves within it.
(02:56):
She's always felt drawn to theocean, not just the surface,
the silver flashes of herring schools,the drifting amber ribbons of kelp,
but something deeper.
Something older as if the seaitself holds stories sung in a
(03:23):
language of tides and moonlight.
Too ancient to remember yet.
Too familiar to forget
on evenings like this.
(03:46):
When the sky lingers in shades ofpurple and the sun slips beneath
the horizon with a golden hush,Isla walks the path barefoot.
The earth is cool and softbeneath her souls still warm in
(04:07):
places from the afternoon sun.
She moves slowly reverently asif approaching a sacred place
(04:32):
at the edge of the shore.
She stops.
The sea greets her with a rhythm asgentle as her breath clapping over
smooth stones and fragments of shell.
(05:05):
The air is rich withsalt and world rosemary.
Above the first stars blinkinto being one by one,
like tiny distant eyes, watchingquietly from the edge of time.
(05:40):
Ila closes her eyes, she listens,and the sea begins to speak,
not in words, but in sensations,
the hush of the waves pullingback across the stones.
(06:06):
The occasional splash of somethingsurfacing then slipping away again.
The creek of distant driftwoodrocking against the shore.
(06:32):
There's a language here that'solder than anything written
and more fluid than any tongue.
Islas never tried tounderstand it with her mind.
She feels it lets it movethrough her like the tide.
(06:55):
Beneath her feet.
Time stretches
the sky deepens.
Shifting to deep indigo
stars multiply.
(07:16):
Scattered across the dome of night.
Ala remains still her breathmatching the rhythm of the waves,
her body at rest,
(07:39):
but her spirit
quietly alert, receptive.
And then she senses it,
not a sound, not a movement,but a shift in the quiet,
(08:04):
the kind of presence that tendersa space without disturbing it.
Out on the water following thesilver ribbon of moonlight.
Something's approaching a boat.
(08:27):
Small, curved, weathered.
It glides over thesurface with no wake, no.
No sail as if it's always known.
The way
(08:48):
its sides are carved with spirals sofaint, they could be tricks of the light.
The Tyler recognizesthem as something older.
Markings from the storieswhispered by the sea.
(09:14):
The boat draws closer slowinguntil it hovers in the shallows
just at the shores edge.
It doesn't call to her.
It doesn't need to.
(09:36):
Ila rises.
She steps lightly over the stonesand into the cool water, which
swirls softly around her ankles.
The air still, yet the boatrocks ever so slightly expectant.
(10:03):
When her hand touches its side, awarmth rises through her fingers, not
from heat, but from memory familiarity
as if it's carried her before inanother time, in another dream.
(10:30):
She steps in
the boat, holds her weight withperfect balance, and begins to
move quietly away from the shore.
Ila sits down
(10:51):
her hands, resting in her lap,her eyes wide open in the night.
She doesn't look back.
The island fades behind her.
It's lights and shorelinedissolving into the mist
(11:18):
ahead.
The sea opens wide dark.
And endless, but she's not afraid.
The stars above remain constant.
(11:42):
The moon glows bright tracingits path across the water
and beneath her, thesea carries her forward.
Not to nowhere, but to somewhereunknown, yet deeply familiar.
(12:09):
Through a fail of low mist, somethingbegins to form on the horizon.
An island,
it rises gently from the water.
Shaped like a ring.
It's your draped in soft green mossthat glows faintly under the starlight.
(12:35):
There aren't any cliffs, nosharp edges, only gentle slopes.
The boat slows nestlinginto the moss without sound.
(12:55):
Aila steps out her bare feet meetingthe thick living carpet of green.
The moss is warm, springy a.
(13:20):
Tiny white flowersplume beneath her steps.
Delicate
luminescent disappearing asshe passes, as if only blooming
long enough to welcome her.
(13:43):
The air filled with a soft, sweetscent like honey and earth after rain
in the center of the islandis a wide still pool.
(14:06):
Its surface reflects not justthe stars, but something deeper
light moving beneath the waterin slows spiraling patterns.
(14:27):
Island Ilan kneels beside it.
She doesn't look for her reflection.
She simply sits in silence, lettingthe place speak, and it does not in
voice, but in sensation, calm stillness,
(14:56):
a sense of being held.
The island asks nothing of her.
It only offers rest.
A moment of return, a beginning.
(15:16):
Remembered
when ALA opens her eyes.
The quiet stillness of the islandremains around her like a veil.
(15:40):
The pool's surface is unchangedstill, and glass like reflecting
the stars with perfect clarity.
The light continues tomove in slow spirals.
As if the island breathesin a rhythm all its own,
(16:06):
but something in Isla has shifted.
The sense of rest of being gently heldhas given way to a quiet readiness,
a feeling that it's time to continue.
(16:26):
She rises, pressing her palms briefly tothe soft moss beneath her before standing.
The white flowers bloom again beneathher steps as she returns to the shore.
Silent companions to her departure.
(17:00):
The boat's exactly where she loved it.
Unmoving, expectant,
she steps back into it.
The vessel resumes its journeyparting the myriad water.
(17:24):
Slowly and gracefully.
Isla settles in her eyeson the open sea ahead.
The moss covered island fadesaway, vanishing into the mist.
(17:48):
Its gentle glow, retreating likethe final notes of a lullaby.
Yet, she carries it with her.
Not the place, but the feeling, the quiet,
the clarity,
(18:12):
the reminder of stillnessbeneath the surface of things.
The sea opens wide again and the nightsky deepens stars cluster, thicker buffer,
(18:38):
and the moon lowers toward the horizon,
casting long light across the water,like a path drawn just for her.
(19:00):
Ahead Through Drifting Mist, anothershape begins to emerge another island.
This one rises gently from the sea.
It's heal soft and drowned.
Clothed in low grass.
(19:20):
That shimmers faintly with the dew.
At its center stands a tree.
Its trunk is wide and smooth.
It sparked the color of moonstone,dabbled with lichen that
(19:42):
catches the starlight in small.
Shifting flex.
Its branches stretch high and graceful,crowned with translucent leaves that
scatter the light in delicate beams.
(20:05):
Some of the leaves are drifting downward,
not falling, but floating like feathers.
Suspended in slow air.
(20:27):
The boat carries viola tothe shore and rests there.
She steps out and walkstoward the tree her feet.
Brushing through grassesthat seem to hum under foot.
(20:54):
The air here is perfectly stillnot heavy, but reverent as though
the island is holding its breath.
When she reaches the tree, Islarests her hand on the smooth bark.
(21:21):
A warmth moves through her chest, notheat, but recognition as if something
long dormant within her has stirred.
She feels memories not her own.
(21:45):
Moving through her light water of a stone,
voices speaking in ancient tongues,
feet walking paths.
Lost time.
A heartbeat echoing across centuries.
(22:14):
The island is silent,but hums with a life.
A circle of stone surrounds the tree
half sunken into the earth.
(22:38):
Their surfaces carved with spiralsand symbols to worn to read.
I list steps between them.
And finds a place to sit among the roots.
(23:01):
She doesn't need toask what this place is.
It's a resting place, a remembering place,
and though no words arespoken, she understands.
(23:22):
This is the beginning of her journeyinward through landscapes shaped
by nature, yes, but also by thehidden corners of her own spirit.
She closes her eyes.
(23:44):
The stars continue their slow dance above.
And the tree.
The tree keeps watch.
She rises light, put it,and walks back to the boat.
(24:11):
This time, not as someoneseeking, but as someone returning.
The vessel is precisely whereit was resting, just off shore
in the harsh of the night.
(24:37):
Ila steps into it.
Once again, it responds withoutsound, without question.
The boat glides forwardeasing into the open water,
(25:00):
the gentle pool of the sea,guiding it away from the island
behind her, the tree,and the circle of stones.
Fade into the darkness, soft and certain,like something that now lives within her
(25:31):
ahead.
The stars shift and theboat carries her on.
The mist is thicker here.
Cool and soft.
It clings to the surface of thewater and coils gently around
(25:56):
the boat as it moves forward.
Light pulses faintly within it.
Tim glimmers like the after imageof a dream, just out of reach.
(26:19):
The mist parts revealing anew island, low and dark.
Covered in smooth black stones owns
the air here, hums withquiet reverberation as
(26:39):
though the land is listening.
Scattered across the surface are hollowedballs of rock filled with shallow water
that reflect the sky like mirrors.
(26:59):
I less steps onto the shore.
The stones are warm under her feet.
Each step she takes makes a fainttone, a quiet note that lingers
for a moment before fading.
(27:24):
She walks carefullybetween the stone basins,
each sings when the air moves above.
It
tones soft and melodic.
Breath turned into music.
(27:49):
The island speaks in echoes in resonance,
not from her voice, butfrom presence alone.
(28:13):
A tall column of obsidianrises at the center.
Not carved, not placed, just there likeit formed itself from sound and waiting.
(28:39):
Ila places her palm against it.
The stone pulses beneath hertouch, and suddenly she hears them.
Not words, but swhispers, tears, laughter.
(29:06):
Moments,
not her memories, but those she's carried.
For others,
she hears echoes of comfort once given,
promises once made,
(29:29):
farewells once spoken,but never fully heard.
This is a place of release.
She closes her eyes and letsthe memories pass through her.
(29:54):
Not clinging, notanalyzing, only listening.
When she removes her hand, the silencethat follows is filled with peace.
(30:28):
She returns to the.
And the boat moves on cuttingthrough the final curtain of mist.
This time the sea lightens
(30:52):
the water beneath the hull, glowspale blue as if lit from within.
Like Starlight has soaked into the sea andnow pulses gently in rhythm with the boat.
Slow movement,
(31:15):
tiny flex of light drift
just beneath the surface.
Flickering like bioluminescent threads.
Suspended in water, moving in, graceful,spiraling currents that seem to dance.
(31:42):
The glow shifts subtly in huenow blue, now soft gold as
though the sea itself is waking.
(32:06):
Above the stars begin to disappear.
The deepest constellations recede oneby one, fading into the brightening sky.
(32:28):
The darkness is no longer complete.
It carries the weightlesspromise of mourning.
The edge of the world is outlined inthe faintest blush of rose and silver.
(32:54):
A whisper of light risingbehind a curtain not yet drawn.
Everything feels softened now.
The sea and the sky seemto blend the horizon.
(33:20):
Their line barely visible.
The edges between elements between colorand shape, light and shadow have blurred.
Even Islas own thoughtsfeel gently dissolved like
(33:40):
mist drifting through light.
The air shifts to cooler tingedwith the faint cent of dew.
(34:02):
She lift her face towardthe brightening sky.
This is a moment that existsbetween things, not quite night.
Not yet day.
A breath, a hush.
(34:24):
A space where transformation beginsquietly without need for sound a
and ahead, just beginning to formin the soft light another island.
(34:45):
Unlike the others.
This one is open, no hills, no trees,no stones, just a wide flat expanse of
meadow stretching toward the horizon.
Covered in tiny white flowersthat shift in the breeze, like
(35:08):
snowfall caught in golden light.
The sky here is fast weightless.
As Isla steps ashore, a windmoves through her hair, lifting
(35:31):
it gently from her shoulders.
She walks with ease.
As if the ground supports her, notjust physically, but emotionally
soft open and without expectation.
(36:02):
She feels lighter, not fromforgetting, but from allowing.
(36:22):
She walks until she reaches the center ofthe meadow where the flowers grow densest.
The sun hasn't risen yet.
But its presence can be felt
steady, inevitable.
(36:50):
She doesn't need to sit down.
She doesn't need to do anything at all.
She simply lets herself stand inthe wide open heart unguarded.
Arms by her sides.
(37:14):
The silent holds, no vision,no lesson only truth that she's
allowed to be, not for what shecarries, not for what she gives,
but because she is.
(37:36):
Isla closes her eyes as thewarm light gathers around her.
The boat waits.
She turns and walks back to it.
(38:07):
The seas quiet.
The sky begins to brighten,and she carried by.
All that's been felt, and all that's beenremembered, allows herself to return home.
It is twilight.
A dusky light spills across the sea, warmand rose colored the last sigh of the day.
The tide breathes softly on theshore of a quiet tile and nestled in
(00:27):
the far reaches of the hemisphere.
So distant.
It slips between thefaults of memory and myth
here where ancient windswhisper through tall grasses,
(00:49):
seabirds, crying, slow circles overhead.
Liv's, Isla.
Her cottage is perched on alow cliff above the tide line.
It's weathered stones wrapped inwild thyme and pale honeysuckle.
(01:16):
Smoke drifts, lazily from the chimney,
carrying the scent of peat andlavender into the cooling air.
A narrow footpath, worn, smoothby her bare feet, lines through
(01:41):
wild flowers and lichen coveredstones down to the shoreline.
Ala is a weaver of dreams, not withthread and loom, but through listening,
(02:03):
truly listening to wind waves, andthe ancient silence between sounds.
(02:26):
She lives alone, but never feels alone
for her days have filled withthe presence of the sea and the
hidden music that moves within it.
(02:56):
She's always felt drawn to theocean, not just the surface,
the silver flashes of herring schools,the drifting amber ribbons of kelp,
but something deeper.
Something older as if the seaitself holds stories sung in a
(03:23):
language of tides and moonlight.
Too ancient to remember yet.
Too familiar to forget
on evenings like this.
(03:46):
When the sky lingers in shades ofpurple and the sun slips beneath
the horizon with a golden hush,Isla walks the path barefoot.
The earth is cool and softbeneath her souls still warm in
(04:07):
places from the afternoon sun.
She moves slowly reverently asif approaching a sacred place
(04:32):
at the edge of the shore.
She stops.
The sea greets her with a rhythm asgentle as her breath clapping over
smooth stones and fragments of shell.
(05:05):
The air is rich withsalt and world rosemary.
Above the first stars blinkinto being one by one,
like tiny distant eyes, watchingquietly from the edge of time.
(05:40):
Ila closes her eyes, she listens,and the sea begins to speak,
not in words, but in sensations,
the hush of the waves pullingback across the stones.
(06:06):
The occasional splash of somethingsurfacing then slipping away again.
The creek of distant driftwoodrocking against the shore.
(06:32):
There's a language here that'solder than anything written
and more fluid than any tongue.
Islas never tried tounderstand it with her mind.
She feels it lets it movethrough her like the tide.
(06:55):
Beneath her feet.
Time stretches
the sky deepens.
Shifting to deep indigo
stars multiply.
(07:16):
Scattered across the dome of night.
Ala remains still her breathmatching the rhythm of the waves,
her body at rest,
(07:39):
but her spirit
quietly alert, receptive.
And then she senses it,
not a sound, not a movement,but a shift in the quiet,
(08:04):
the kind of presence that tendersa space without disturbing it.
Out on the water following thesilver ribbon of moonlight.
Something's approaching a boat.
(08:27):
Small, curved, weathered.
It glides over thesurface with no wake, no.
No sail as if it's always known.
The way
(08:48):
its sides are carved with spirals sofaint, they could be tricks of the light.
The Tyler recognizesthem as something older.
Markings from the storieswhispered by the sea.
(09:14):
The boat draws closer slowinguntil it hovers in the shallows
just at the shores edge.
It doesn't call to her.
It doesn't need to.
(09:36):
Ila rises.
She steps lightly over the stonesand into the cool water, which
swirls softly around her ankles.
The air still, yet the boatrocks ever so slightly expectant.
(10:03):
When her hand touches its side, awarmth rises through her fingers, not
from heat, but from memory familiarity
as if it's carried her before inanother time, in another dream.
(10:30):
She steps in
the boat, holds her weight withperfect balance, and begins to
move quietly away from the shore.
Ila sits down
(10:51):
her hands, resting in her lap,her eyes wide open in the night.
She doesn't look back.
The island fades behind her.
It's lights and shorelinedissolving into the mist
(11:18):
ahead.
The sea opens wide dark.
And endless, but she's not afraid.
The stars above remain constant.
(11:42):
The moon glows bright tracingits path across the water
and beneath her, thesea carries her forward.
Not to nowhere, but to somewhereunknown, yet deeply familiar.
(12:09):
Through a fail of low mist, somethingbegins to form on the horizon.
An island,
it rises gently from the water.
Shaped like a ring.
It's your draped in soft green mossthat glows faintly under the starlight.
(12:35):
There aren't any cliffs, nosharp edges, only gentle slopes.
The boat slows nestlinginto the moss without sound.
(12:55):
Aila steps out her bare feet meetingthe thick living carpet of green.
The moss is warm, springy a.
(13:20):
Tiny white flowersplume beneath her steps.
Delicate
luminescent disappearing asshe passes, as if only blooming
long enough to welcome her.
(13:43):
The air filled with a soft, sweetscent like honey and earth after rain
in the center of the islandis a wide still pool.
(14:06):
Its surface reflects not justthe stars, but something deeper
light moving beneath the waterin slows spiraling patterns.
(14:27):
Island Ilan kneels beside it.
She doesn't look for her reflection.
She simply sits in silence, lettingthe place speak, and it does not in
voice, but in sensation, calm stillness,
(14:56):
a sense of being held.
The island asks nothing of her.
It only offers rest.
A moment of return, a beginning.
(15:16):
Remembered
when ALA opens her eyes.
The quiet stillness of the islandremains around her like a veil.
(15:40):
The pool's surface is unchangedstill, and glass like reflecting
the stars with perfect clarity.
The light continues tomove in slow spirals.
As if the island breathesin a rhythm all its own,
(16:06):
but something in Isla has shifted.
The sense of rest of being gently heldhas given way to a quiet readiness,
a feeling that it's time to continue.
(16:26):
She rises, pressing her palms briefly tothe soft moss beneath her before standing.
The white flowers bloom again beneathher steps as she returns to the shore.
Silent companions to her departure.
(17:00):
The boat's exactly where she loved it.
Unmoving, expectant,
she steps back into it.
The vessel resumes its journeyparting the myriad water.
(17:24):
Slowly and gracefully.
Isla settles in her eyeson the open sea ahead.
The moss covered island fadesaway, vanishing into the mist.
(17:48):
Its gentle glow, retreating likethe final notes of a lullaby.
Yet, she carries it with her.
Not the place, but the feeling, the quiet,
the clarity,
(18:12):
the reminder of stillnessbeneath the surface of things.
The sea opens wide again and the nightsky deepens stars cluster, thicker buffer,
(18:38):
and the moon lowers toward the horizon,
casting long light across the water,like a path drawn just for her.
(19:00):
Ahead Through Drifting Mist, anothershape begins to emerge another island.
This one rises gently from the sea.
It's heal soft and drowned.
Clothed in low grass.
(19:20):
That shimmers faintly with the dew.
At its center stands a tree.
Its trunk is wide and smooth.
It sparked the color of moonstone,dabbled with lichen that
(19:42):
catches the starlight in small.
Shifting flex.
Its branches stretch high and graceful,crowned with translucent leaves that
scatter the light in delicate beams.
(20:05):
Some of the leaves are drifting downward,
not falling, but floating like feathers.
Suspended in slow air.
(20:27):
The boat carries viola tothe shore and rests there.
She steps out and walkstoward the tree her feet.
Brushing through grassesthat seem to hum under foot.
(20:54):
The air here is perfectly stillnot heavy, but reverent as though
the island is holding its breath.
When she reaches the tree, Islarests her hand on the smooth bark.
(21:21):
A warmth moves through her chest, notheat, but recognition as if something
long dormant within her has stirred.
She feels memories not her own.
(21:45):
Moving through her light water of a stone,
voices speaking in ancient tongues,
feet walking paths.
Lost time.
A heartbeat echoing across centuries.
(22:14):
The island is silent,but hums with a life.
A circle of stone surrounds the tree
half sunken into the earth.
(22:38):
Their surfaces carved with spiralsand symbols to worn to read.
I list steps between them.
And finds a place to sit among the roots.
(23:01):
She doesn't need toask what this place is.
It's a resting place, a remembering place,
and though no words arespoken, she understands.
(23:22):
This is the beginning of her journeyinward through landscapes shaped
by nature, yes, but also by thehidden corners of her own spirit.
She closes her eyes.
(23:44):
The stars continue their slow dance above.
And the tree.
The tree keeps watch.
She rises light, put it,and walks back to the boat.
(24:11):
This time, not as someoneseeking, but as someone returning.
The vessel is precisely whereit was resting, just off shore
in the harsh of the night.
(24:37):
Ila steps into it.
Once again, it responds withoutsound, without question.
The boat glides forwardeasing into the open water,
(25:00):
the gentle pool of the sea,guiding it away from the island
behind her, the tree,and the circle of stones.
Fade into the darkness, soft and certain,like something that now lives within her
(25:31):
ahead.
The stars shift and theboat carries her on.
The mist is thicker here.
Cool and soft.
It clings to the surface of thewater and coils gently around
(25:56):
the boat as it moves forward.
Light pulses faintly within it.
Tim glimmers like the after imageof a dream, just out of reach.
(26:19):
The mist parts revealing anew island, low and dark.
Covered in smooth black stones owns
the air here, hums withquiet reverberation as
(26:39):
though the land is listening.
Scattered across the surface are hollowedballs of rock filled with shallow water
that reflect the sky like mirrors.
(26:59):
I less steps onto the shore.
The stones are warm under her feet.
Each step she takes makes a fainttone, a quiet note that lingers
for a moment before fading.
(27:24):
She walks carefullybetween the stone basins,
each sings when the air moves above.
It
tones soft and melodic.
Breath turned into music.
(27:49):
The island speaks in echoes in resonance,
not from her voice, butfrom presence alone.
(28:13):
A tall column of obsidianrises at the center.
Not carved, not placed, just there likeit formed itself from sound and waiting.
(28:39):
Ila places her palm against it.
The stone pulses beneath hertouch, and suddenly she hears them.
Not words, but swhispers, tears, laughter.
(29:06):
Moments,
not her memories, but those she's carried.
For others,
she hears echoes of comfort once given,
promises once made,
(29:29):
farewells once spoken,but never fully heard.
This is a place of release.
She closes her eyes and letsthe memories pass through her.
(29:54):
Not clinging, notanalyzing, only listening.
When she removes her hand, the silencethat follows is filled with peace.
(30:28):
She returns to the.
And the boat moves on cuttingthrough the final curtain of mist.
This time the sea lightens
(30:52):
the water beneath the hull, glowspale blue as if lit from within.
Like Starlight has soaked into the sea andnow pulses gently in rhythm with the boat.
Slow movement,
(31:15):
tiny flex of light drift
just beneath the surface.
Flickering like bioluminescent threads.
Suspended in water, moving in, graceful,spiraling currents that seem to dance.
(31:42):
The glow shifts subtly in huenow blue, now soft gold as
though the sea itself is waking.
(32:06):
Above the stars begin to disappear.
The deepest constellations recede oneby one, fading into the brightening sky.
(32:28):
The darkness is no longer complete.
It carries the weightlesspromise of mourning.
The edge of the world is outlined inthe faintest blush of rose and silver.
(32:54):
A whisper of light risingbehind a curtain not yet drawn.
Everything feels softened now.
The sea and the sky seemto blend the horizon.
(33:20):
Their line barely visible.
The edges between elements between colorand shape, light and shadow have blurred.
Even Islas own thoughtsfeel gently dissolved like
(33:40):
mist drifting through light.
The air shifts to cooler tingedwith the faint cent of dew.
(34:02):
She lift her face towardthe brightening sky.
This is a moment that existsbetween things, not quite night.
Not yet day.
A breath, a hush.
(34:24):
A space where transformation beginsquietly without need for sound a
and ahead, just beginning to formin the soft light another island.
(34:45):
Unlike the others.
This one is open, no hills, no trees,no stones, just a wide flat expanse of
meadow stretching toward the horizon.
Covered in tiny white flowersthat shift in the breeze, like
(35:08):
snowfall caught in golden light.
The sky here is fast weightless.
As Isla steps ashore, a windmoves through her hair, lifting
(35:31):
it gently from her shoulders.
She walks with ease.
As if the ground supports her, notjust physically, but emotionally
soft open and without expectation.
(36:02):
She feels lighter, not fromforgetting, but from allowing.
(36:22):
She walks until she reaches the center ofthe meadow where the flowers grow densest.
The sun hasn't risen yet.
But its presence can be felt
steady, inevitable.
(36:50):
She doesn't need to sit down.
She doesn't need to do anything at all.
She simply lets herself stand inthe wide open heart unguarded.
Arms by her sides.
(37:14):
The silent holds, no vision,no lesson only truth that she's
allowed to be, not for what shecarries, not for what she gives,
but because she is.
(37:36):
Isla closes her eyes as thewarm light gathers around her.
The boat waits.
She turns and walks back to it.
(38:07):
The seas quiet.
The sky begins to brighten,and she carried by.
All that's been felt, and all that's beenremembered, allows herself to return home.
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