Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - Legends of the Owls Head Light

Starting point is 00:00:00 Before tonight's episode, I want to let you know about our supporters' feed Get Sleepy Premium, the best way to experience the show and get a good night's sleep. With Get Sleepy Premium, everything is ad-free. You'll receive a bonus episode every week, and have full access to our entire back catalogue. Your support really helps, and means so much to us. Simply tap the link in the show notes to learn more. Now, a quick word from our sponsors who make it possible for us to bring you two free episodes each week. Welcome to Get Sleepy.

Starting point is 00:00:40 Where we listen, we relax and we get sleepy. My name's Thomas and I'm your host. Thanks so much for tuning in. Tonight we'll rejoin Emma, who is continuing her research about the lighthouse's long a coast of Maine. If you haven't heard about Emma's past light house visits, don't worry, you'll be able to enjoy this special Halloween segment all by itself. And you can always listen to the others another time. For those of you who may be familiar with her past adventures, you'll find that there

Starting point is 00:01:26 is a special dose of October Delight to be found at this particular historical beacon. In fact, it's home to some often told legends that are perfect for a stormy night. But don't worry, there's nothing scary or surprising, the only spirits will meet are kind and helpful. And as with all the other stories in this series, it will be read by the wonderful voice of Abby. Let's make sure we're nicely settled in for tonight's story. Make yourself as comfortable as can be. And when you're ready, take a deep breath in, holding at the top, then gently releasing back out. In your own time, find a pace of breathing that feels natural and soothing for you.

Starting point is 00:02:47 And just enjoy that calming rhythm for the next few moments. Often at night, various thoughts can play on our minds. Most of us know what it's like to lay awake over thinking, and it can be difficult to know how to deal with and how to respond to those thoughts. But from my experience, the key is to keep it simple. So each time a thought pops up in your mind, vying for your attention, just try saying, not now. By responding in this way, telling your thoughts, not now, you're sending a signal to your brain that you've acknowledged the thought is there, but that this is not the opportune time to deal with it, so it can gently float away, like autumn leaves falling to the ground. And when you're better prepared to deal with that thought, it will come back to you during the day.

Starting point is 00:04:17 Now as your worries fade away, allow your mind to wander to a new place, where rocky cliffs meet the ocean. Where there's nothing to bother you in a picturesque town. And this is where our story begins. Emma sat at a small table in the corner of the bakery, right by the window. The late afternoon weather was in a tempestuous mood. The days were markedly shorter on the coast of Maine at this time of autumn. Particularly on this stormy afternoon, the brevity of the daylight was compounded by dark clouds scudding across the sky. Confused by the early twilight, some of the street lights,

Starting point is 00:05:48 she could see lining the thoroughfare outside the window had begun to illuminate already. The scene where Emma sat inside could have been more different from the gloomy outdoor chill. Even with closing time drawing night, the bakery was suffused with the comforting smell of coffee and fresh bread. The shop was almost empty, except for a few patrons picking up last minute items for dinner. One woman walked out the door with a box of dainty cookies, perhaps for a cozy dinner party. The coffee machine hissed periodically, as if doing its part to keep the bakery warm. Emma peered through the glass at the main street storefronts that shone through the deepening

Starting point is 00:06:43 gloom. There seemed to be a decorative scarecrow competition going on in town. Wimsically a tired, straw people stood sheltered in some of the doorways, like cheerful sentinels of Halloween. They seemed right at home among the small leafy cyclones that randomly appeared in the nooks and crannies around them. Octobus last foliage was giving up the ghost and flying away. This was not Emma's first time in the area. She had first passed through in the summer, while learning

Starting point is 00:07:26 more about the Rockland breakwater light. As a lifelong lighthouse enthusiast, Emma had been travelling the coast of Maine intermittently for a few months, visiting different historical beacons. On that last trip, her time had been limited. Other obligations had prevented her from seeing everything on her list. When she had realised she'd be passing nearby again, she thought it was a great chance to make a long awaited visit to the main lighthouse museum. Before she headed out again, she was also interested in getting a look at the nearby Owls headlight, which had one of the last operating fruinal lenses in Maine, and reportedly a stunning view. According to their website, the main lighthouse museum was the nation's largest of its kind.

Starting point is 00:08:26 It housed a vast collection, including lenses, fog horns and other historical equipment. After her work of the past few months, it was wonderful to see some of the artefacts up close and read the detailed information about them. There had also been some models of famous lighthouses she'd studied or visited in person. Lastly, the stories about important lighthouse keepers and their families were always her favorite part of any visit. She had spent a surprisingly long amount of time in the museum, wondering through the exhibits in blissful solitude.

Starting point is 00:09:18 Taurus season was over. In retrospect, she had come at just the right time. In retrospect, she had come at just the right time. Upon finishing her tour, the Wind Whipped Street had made a stark contrast to the warm solitude of the museum. That's how she had ended up taking refuge here in the bakery. She was spending the night in an inn outside of town and she didn't want to arrive before check-in time. Getting a cup of sweet milk tea was the perfect excuse to hold up in a welcoming corner of this charming local spot before she headed down the peninsula for the night. charming local spot before she headed down the peninsula for the night. The bell on the front door of the bakery rang cheerfully as another of the late customers waved goodbye to the staff and slipped out into the cold October air. Emma pulled herself out of her reverie and knew she would need to finish up her drink shortly and go.

Starting point is 00:10:28 Sipping again on her tea, she retrieved a small notebook from her bag. She wanted to review the basic facts about Owl's headlight before seeing it tomorrow. She nodded to herself, but she ran down the list of details. The lighthouse had been built in 1825 upon approval by President John Quincy Adams. It was positioned on a peninsula that jutted out into the Punobscot Bay just east of Rockland. Similar to the other historic lighthousees in Maine, Owl's head was originally built of rubble stone, no doubt for the cost savings. However, it deteriorated quickly and was eventually rebuilt in Sturdier Brick in 1852.

Starting point is 00:11:30 The beacon was quite a petite little tower, standing only 30 feet tall. However due to its lofty position, about 100 feet above the water, it projected quite far into the bay. The modest, fourth-order fruinal lens that was installed after the tower innovation in 1852 was all that was needed in order to send the light out over the water about 18 miles. As Emma had learned from her last lighthouse visit, the fruinal lenses came in vastly different sizes. This was not a big one in the scheme of things. Emma drank the last of her tea and set the notes down in front of her. The story of this little lighthouse seemed fairly straightforward, mostly she was looking

Starting point is 00:12:27 forward to the view. She had read a quote by a man named Samuel Adams Drake that had intrigued her. Apparently, in his book The Pine Tree Coast, he had said, Al's hair d'Archer's at once, upon a scene almost too beautiful to profane with speech when we are looking at it. Impossible to find language to do it justice. She wasn't sure if that would still be true in the brown austerity of late autumn, but wanted to go and take a look for herself in the morning. Emma folded up her notebook and stuffed it in her bag, rising almost reluctantly from

Starting point is 00:13:19 her snug haven in the window. She cleared her table and pulled on her warm coat. Then, wrapping her soft scarf around her neck, she pushed the door open and slipped out into the brisk autumn weather. Almost all the street lights were now in agreement about the lateness of the hour, glowing softly along the length of the sidewalk. Emma made her way past the neon marquee of the vintage theatre and found the spot where she had parked her car earlier. She slid gratefully into the comparative warmth of the driver's

Starting point is 00:14:08 seat, resting her bag next to her. Then, with the car faithfully humming and the heat whispering through the vents, she started up the navigation, pointing the car toward the place where she would spend this blustery night. The bed and breakfast was not far. In fact, as she drove south, then the town slipped away behind her. She passed a turn off that she knew would have taken her to the lighthouse. For tonight, however, she was just looking forward to co-zying up indoors. At first, she could see climpses of the harbor on the left, and then the road turned a bit more inland, giving way to thickets of trees.

Starting point is 00:15:06 She passed a weathered sign that was barely legible in the fading light. It proclaimed that she was entering the town that grew from sea and stone. Before she had driven, even ten minutes, she arrived among a small cluster of houses and businesses that surrounded a small cave. She was grateful for her navigation, because the addresses were not very easy to read in the near darkness. Nonetheless, she found the driveway she was looking for on the first try. She pulled into one of the empty parking places, thinking to herself that she might actually be the only guest. Emma opened her car door into the rising wind and retrieved her bag from the trunk of the car. Then, bending her head against the gusting air, she hurried onto the covered porch and opened

Starting point is 00:16:17 the front door of the house, dragging her luggage inside. All at once she was able to pull it closed behind her, instantly shutting out the autumn chill. She stood in the entryway, catching her breath for a moment. She pondered how old this home might be and thought to herself that it might have once been a farmhouse. It was not a grand home, but it was a cozy one. She looked down at the rustic wide wood planks beneath her feet, and then peeked through a nearby doorway into a living room where a fire was crackling in the hearth. The small desk stood before her and she saw there was a bell on it.

Starting point is 00:17:16 However, before she had a chance to ring it, she heard footsteps quickly approaching from the back of the house. A woman appeared casually dressed in jeans and wearing an apron. He looked as if she'd been in the kitchen. Smiling broadly, she introduced herself as Susan, and welcomed Emma, apologising politely for her disheveled state. Emma assured her that she had not expected anyone to dress up for her when they both laughed. Emma continued to have the distinct feeling that this was not a particularly busy time for the inn. The mood was pleasingly

Starting point is 00:18:08 informal in any case. Susan Usher Demmer up the stairs and showed her to her accommodation saying, �You are our only guest tonight, so I gave you the big room with the pretty view. Emma thanked her, thinking how nice it would be to see what was outside when the sun came up. Then her host invited her to come downstairs for a light dinner when she had gotten settled. She added, with nobody else coming tonight, I thought you might enjoy having a bite to eat by the fireside. Does that sound good? Emma thought

Starting point is 00:18:57 it sounded absolutely marvellous, and she said so. With that, Susan left quietly closing the door behind her. Emma looked around her room. It did indeed have what appeared to be excellent windows, although the darkness outside prevented her from seeing any hint of the promised view. Pulling the curtains closed against the night, she surveyed the room, noting how welcoming it was. A queen-sized bed stood at the centre, covered with a patchwork quilt and bright white sheets. The floors were hardwood just like downstairs, lending some cosiness, an oval braided rug

Starting point is 00:19:59 lay on top of the bear planks. There was also an antique chest of drawers standing nearby, with a charming old lamp casting a golden pool of light around it. The walls were covered in wallpaper that was decorated with a dainty floral pattern. There was decorated with a dainty floral pattern. The entire room felt very spacious, yet snug. She was looking forward to reading in bed for a little while after dinner. This would be the perfect place to hold up for the night. Tideying her wind-blown hair in the mirror, she laid out a few of her things, and then decided

Starting point is 00:20:56 to head downstairs. She wasn't terribly hungry, but sitting by the fire sounded enticing. She took her book with her and left her bedroom hideaway behind, descending the slightly creepy stairs to return to the living room. There were a few huge soft-arm chairs and a small sofa gathered around the fireplace. Emma chose one and sank gratefully into it, drawn to the gently dancing flames. The room was tastefully furnished with a few bookcases and nice clusters of furniture that suggested conversation areas.

Starting point is 00:21:51 A bay window appeared to look out on the street, although she could not see beyond the darkness at the moment. There were not a lot of bright street lights in this small hamlet on the river. After Emma had been sitting there for a few moments, Susan popped her head around the corner and offered her a few dinner choices. Emma gratefully accepted the offer of a bowl of seafood, chowder and a green salad. Susan said she'd be back shortly with a tray, and then vanished once more. Emma leaned back in the embrace of the armchair and closed her eyes. The only sound in the room was the ticking of a nearby grandfather clock and the crackling

Starting point is 00:22:51 from the fireplace. Distantly, she could hear Susan opening and closing cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, which appeared to be at the back of the house. It was lucky that Susan reappeared shortly with dinner because Emma was so relaxed she might have fallen asleep. As it was, a standing tray of hot soup, some oyster crackers, and a delicate green salad sat before Emma before she could dose off. While she waited for the soup to cool a bit, Emma asked if Susan would be having some dinner too. Susan said she'd already eaten, but she sat down in a chair across from Emma and asked

Starting point is 00:23:48 her about her plans for the morning. After rule, Susan points out, breakfast was included in her stay. In the course of discussing breakfast details, Emma mentioned that she was here to see the lighthouse and that she was hoping for fair weather. Susan nodded approvingly, indicating that this was a worthwhile trip indeed. Of course at this time of year you'll only be able to see the outside of the lighthouse, she said. There are no tours you can take tomorrow.

Starting point is 00:24:36 She paused and then added, but the legends are really the best part. Emma paused with her spoon in the air and raised an eyebrow. Legends? She asked. Like what? Susan leaned forward in her chair, her eyes twinkling. forward in her chair, her eyes twinkling. To you mean to say you've come here without even knowing about the ghosts? In her research of the various lighthousees along the coast, Emma had learned about their histories, their keepers, and even their equipment. But this was the first she had heard about a haunting. In Tread, she broke open her little packet of oyster crackers and asked Susan to tell her more. Settling back in the armchair, Susan nodded as if she had just been waiting for this invitation.

Starting point is 00:25:54 With the fire casting light and shadows before them, and the wind howling at the windows, she began. The important thing to know first, she said, is that both of the ghosts who haunt the lighthouse are very helpful. Anyone who understands about the keepers of the lights and their devotion, understands that they took their duties very seriously. Nothing stopped them from completing their tasks, despite the obstacles. For some, I guess that meant watching over the lighthouse permanently.

Starting point is 00:26:47 There are two helpful spirits who still guard the owl's headlight. The first one is a former keeper himself, although nobody is sure exactly which keeper he is. Emma realized she was poised with a spoonful of chowda halfway to her mouth. While Susan paused her story, she finished taking that bite. She was momentarily distracted by the realization that her chow child was absolutely delicious.

Starting point is 00:27:31 Swallowing the rich, flavorful broth, she got another spoonful and waited for Susan to continue. With perfect timing, her host went on. Various tales have been told about footprints being found in the snow leading to the lighthouse. They are described as those of a workman's boots. Now, you might say, so what, any man could have walked to the lighthouse in the snow. But here's the catch, the footprints only ever go in one direction. Susan spread her hands dramatically and then continued. And, when the footprints have been followed to the lighthouse tower, the surprised keepers have discovered the brass polished and the lens cleaned. Emma thought back on all she had learned about the sacred importance of those daily maintenance tasks. She knew that this would indeed indicate a spirit of the most helpful kind.

Starting point is 00:29:06 Susan was not finished telling about her ghostly keeper yet, however. In the 1980s, she continued, there was a couple living at the Al's headlight who had a two year old daughter named Claire. Apparently, her father once found her out of bed in the middle of the night, at which point she earnestly told him, Fog's rolling in, time to put the fog horn on. time to put the fogorn on. Now, anyone who has spent time with a two-year-old knows they can pick up some funny sayings. But the keeper and his wife swore they'd never said any such thing around little Claire.

Starting point is 00:30:01 She had come up with it out of nowhere. Susan held up her finger and went on. For years at the Keepers' House, Claire casually noted the presence of a man with a beard who was wearing a blue coat and a seaman's cap. Emma realized she had finished her childa without even noticing. And she, Pishley, laid her spoon next to the empty packet from the Easter crackers. The story about the ghostly keeper was impressive enough, but she was wondering about the second spirit now.

Starting point is 00:30:54 Susan did not keep her waiting. Of course, anyone who understands about lighthouse keepers knows that running a light station often takes help from their wives and even their children. Emma nodded, she had definitely learned this in her research. Susan went on with her story. There is a benevolent spirit, many call the little lady, who seems to be set on keeping house at Al's head. Apparently, she likes to rattle the silverware around in the kitchen at the Keeper's house. She has also been associated with the random, opening and closing of doors. Susan shrugged as if to indicate an impartial view of this information. Then she added, a keeper in the late 1980s said that his wife saw a woman in a white dress gazing out the windows.

Starting point is 00:32:15 And their son insisted there was a lady who liked to sit in a chair in his room. People say she conveys a peaceful feeling and that they don't mind her being there. Emma thought about the two stories for a moment. And of course, after the 1980s, the light was automated. So, there's nobody to say if the ghosts are there anymore or not, she asked. Susan again nodded approvingly, saying, for all we know, the spirits are the only ones keeping a 24 hour watch to this day. Having now polished off a lovely green salad, Emma leaned back in the soft armchair and folded her napkin on the tray. Susan paused and asked if she might like some hot cider. Emma agreed that cider would be delightful and her host took the tray into the kitchen to fetch their drinks. Sinking a little lower in her seat, Emma watched the mesmerizing flickering in the

Starting point is 00:33:54 hearth and felt a warm drowsiness begin to weigh her limbs down. Susan returned with two steaming mugs, a delicious scent of apples wafed it through the room. She set one cup on each end of a side table my table between herself and Emma and sat back down in her chair. Then, she began again. Of course, my favourite story about the owl's headlight is not about a ghost at all. It has to do with a very heroic dog named Spot. At this Emma's eyes widened. She picked up her hot cider and blew on it lightly in an effort to call it down. While she was waiting, she paused to inhale the comforting spicy scent and closed her eyes appreciatively. Then she asked Susan to tell her about spot. Her host continued agriably. In the 1930s and 40s, there was a keeper who was living at the lighthouse with his family.

Starting point is 00:35:39 He had two daughters named Millie and Pauline. As the story goes, they had taught their springer spaniel spot to ring the fog bell by pulling on its rope whenever a boat went by. It became a habit that the passing vessels would ring a bell or toot a horn in return. Spot especially loved the male boat from Artinica, silent. The male man, whose name was Stuart Ames, was known to bring spot treats.

Starting point is 00:36:29 known to bring spot trees. As you can imagine, the dog always rallied at the unique sound of his engine. Well, one night there was a fierce storm, and the fog bell got buried in snowbanks. Meanwhile, the male man needed that bell more than ever if he was to avoid the rocks at the foot of the cliff. As the story goes, at the sound of the male boat, spot, scratched and scratched to be let out of the house. He then raced to the shore and began madly barking. The male man was able to whistle back in response and steer around the treacherous rocks. That's how spot became a hero. He's not a ghost, but you can't find him immortalized at the lighthouse. There's a plaque placed there in his memory. What

Starting point is 00:37:37 a very good boy he was. Susan smiled at the thought of the plucky Spaniel and sipped her cider. Emma was smiling too. She savored the last of her steaming drink and set the cup down at her side, leaning her head back against the chair. She regarded the fireplace reflectively. I'm so glad I heard all these stories before visiting the lighthouse, she said to Susan. She said to Susan. And to think all I was expecting was a view.

Starting point is 00:38:34 Susan chuckled in agreement. He'll probably have the place to yourself at this time of the year, she said. He'll be able to visit Spots Memorial in peace, and the weather is looking fine for tomorrow. Both women peered at the rattling windowpains nearby and sat in silence for a moment, hearing the old house creak comfortably around them. Perhaps sensing the perfect moment to withdraw, Susan got to her feet and cleared their cups away. She told Emma she'd have some warm muffins and fruit out for her in the kitchen in the morning and to come down any time after 7 o'clock.

Starting point is 00:39:34 With that, she nodded kindly, wished her guests a good night and disappeared into the back of the house once again. The fire was so warm and the chair so soft that Emma was reluctant to climb the stairs to her bedroom. She was looking forward to her comfortable bed though. Eventually, she rose from her spot in the sitting room and quietly made her way to the top of the stairs. The owl was not terribly late but it could have been the middle of the night outside. The pitch darkness and the wild weather made bedtime extra appealing. After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, Emma gratefully pulled back the cheerful quilt and nestled down into the crisp white sheaths.

Starting point is 00:40:53 The bed was enormously comfortable, Emma tucked the covers under her arms and stretched herself almost to the bottom of the mattress, exhaling happily. She tried briefly to read her book, but the words were soon blaring before her eyes. Within minutes, she had given up her efforts to stay awake. She turned out the light and drifted off on a sea of dreams, lulled to sleep by the gentle tapping of tree branches on the window outside. That night Emma dreamed of her visit to the little white owl's headlight house. While she slept she envisioned waking to a sunny autumn morning. In her imagination, the view from her window revealed a glittering river that met the Gulf of Maine beyond the village. The sunlight danced merrily on the bluest water she'd ever seen.

Starting point is 00:42:32 In this vivid dream, she went down to the sun-drenched farmhouse kitchen to find the basket of crumbly warm muffins waiting, along with a steaming cup of coffee. She savored bite after bite, tasting the delicious smelting of the blueberries with the pearl sugar that coated the tops of the baked trees. The steam from the coffee floated through the sunbeams at the kitchen table, fortifying her for the crisp autumn temperatures she would find outside. Then, as often happens in dreams, she was magically in her car already, with her luggage neatly packed in the back. She was driving along a road that took her north toward Owl's head-state park. Thick stands of trees slipped by on both sides of the road as the miles passed.

Starting point is 00:44:03 Some were ever greened, and many others had only the last rusty orange leaves of autumn, clinging to their sparsely dressed branches. The sun reached eagerly between them, finding new spaces among the bare branches to occupy for the winter. among the bare branches to occupy for the winter. As she neared her destination, she could see the waters of the harbour sparkling on her left. Small boats chucked away from town, off to take care of their business for the day. And then, she had arrived. She was parking her car in the lot, which she found completely empty of visitors. Stepping out into the October air, Emma followed a wide gravel path. On one side, she could see that she was quite high on a promontory.

Starting point is 00:45:23 She was quite high on a promontory. To her right, the waters of the bay peaked between the trees, hinting of the sweeping views to come. The lighthouse appeared before her. The tidy keepers cottage stood on her left and the bright white break tower of the owl's headlight stood at the top of a steep rise. Stairs joked up to meet it abruptly at the top, inviting the visitor to ascend as if to the heavens. She walked slowly to the top and turned uttering a happy sigh. uttering a happy sigh. The scene before her was as magnificent that she'd hoped. The grass-covered hillside had faded to its autumn colours of gold and rust. These gave way to the craggy promontory which jutted out into the water. Beyond that, she saw that she was surrounded by seizing depths of aqua and blue from left to right. In the distance through the dissipating morning mist,

Starting point is 00:47:13 she could see land. Were these misty shadows peninsula, island? She did not know. Islands? She did not know. Emma was only certain that in this breathtaking, shining moment, in this bracing, salty breeze, she was becoming part of the history of Owl's head. Drifting effortlessly through her dream, she could not say if she stood there for a minute or an hour. However, she eventually found herself in front of a simple stone marker that red spot the lighthouse dog. Reading this plain inscription, etched forever on this isolated hillside above the sea. Emma smiled to herself. Even before waking, she felt a comforting certainty that this unassuming beacon

Starting point is 00:49:07 Unassuming beacon, but always have faithful caretakers to watch over it. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. you you I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. you I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing.

Starting point is 00:50:47 I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. ... I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing.

Starting point is 00:51:52 I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. I'm going to do a little bit of the same thing. ... music you you you you you

Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - Legends of the Owls Head Light

There aren't comments yet for this episode. Click on any sentence in the transcript to leave a comment.