Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Little Harmonies

Episode Date: February 3, 2025

Our story tonight is called Little Harmonies, and it’s a story about small bits of ordinary magic that happen everyday. It’s also about new specials at the coffee shop, tulip bulbs, and a dog met at the mailbox. Notes jotted down in a journal, and the feeling that you’ve tuned into a special frequency that you might have missed before.   We give to a different charity each week and this week we are giving to the Los Angeles Regional Food Bank They are mobilizing resources to fight hunger and feed their community. Order your own NMH weighted pillow now! Subscribe for ad-free, bonus and extra long episodes now, as well as ad-free and early episodes of Stories from the Village of Nothing Much! Search for NMH Premium channel on Apple podcast or follow this link. Listen to our daytime show Stories from the Village of Nothing Much on your favorite podcast app. Join us tomorrow morning for a meditation. Save over $100 on Kathryn’s hand-selected wind-down favorites with the Nothing Much Happens Wind-Down Box. A collection of products from our amazing partners: • Eversio Wellness: Chill Now • Vellabox: Lavender Silk Candle • Alice Mushrooms Nightcap • Nutrachamps Tart Cherry Gummies • A Brighter Year Mini Coloring Book • NuStrips Sleep Strips • Woolzies Lavender Roll-On

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. Now, since every episode is someone's first, let me say something about how this works. When your mind is gently engaged, sleep is more accessible. You know this if you've ever been unable

to keep your eyes open when reading in bed at night. But then, what happens? You click off the light, slip down into your sheets, and suddenly you're wide awake again. It's because that gentle engagement went away. So just by listening, we will keep that element in place. And before you know it, you'll be waking up tomorrow, feeling rested and relaxed. I'll tell our bedtime story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through.

Our story tonight is called Little Harmonies, and it's a story about small bits of ordinary magic that happen every day. It's also about new specials at the coffee shop, tulip bulbs, and a dog met at the mailbox, notes jotted down in a journal, and the feeling that you've tuned into a special frequency that you might have missed before. Okay, time to turn off the lights. Set down devices and get as comfortable as you can. Let it sink in that you are in bed and about to fall asleep. Maybe this is a moment you've been waiting for all day, and now it's here. Take a slow deep breath in through your nose and sigh. And let it out with sound. Good.

Little harmonies. I'd been noting them echo in my day. Some small moment when something was mirrored, a thought I'd had appearing in the real world, a word I'd just learned uttered by a stranger at the next table in a cafe. A song stuck in my head before bed, playing when I started up the car. Those little harmonies feel like magic to me, like catching a glimpse of the internal wiring of the universe. And a friend had suggested that I start writing them down. She said she did, and it helped keep a feeling of awe and amazement fresh in her mind. That sounded good to me, so when they popped up, I took my journal from my bag and just made a note.

Just now I'd seen one and flipped through my little log book to write. February 3rd, cookbook slash New Coffee Special. Just the night before, I'd been flipping through a cookbook I'd had by looking for a soup recipe to make for dinner, but ended up in the dessert section, a frequent happening for me. When I saw a recipe for miso caramel, hmmm, I thought. What would that be like? A little salty, like a salted caramel, but with the extra umami of the miso. I'd been intrigued, but not interested enough to actually attempt the recipe. In the end, I'd gone with the basic split-piece soup for supper and forgotten about the sweet miso idea.

Then today, standing in line at the coffee shop, just as the person in front of me paid One of the baristas started sketching out their new weekly specials on the chalkboard beside the register, and second from the top was a miso caramel latte. Whoa, I had ordered it immediately and stepped aside to write it into my book. A minute later, just as I was reflecting on what the odds of this coincidence might be, I heard my name called from the counter and went to retrieve my drink. The ceramic cup was warm in my hands, and the barista had made a pretty plump snowman in the foam art on top.

I walked carefully back to my table, trying my best not to jostle him. I sat and took a slow sip. It was really delicious. I can't say that I would have been able to identify the flavor as miso. But what I loved about it was that the sweetness sat on top of this balanced richness. It wasn't just sugar that sometimes left me feeling a bit sick when I got too much.

It tasted just a bit sweet, a bit salty, and a bit earthy. I caught the eye of the barista and gave them a little applause. They made a small bow and got back to tamping and steaming. I looked back down at my notebook, reminding myself of the other recent harmonies I'd noticed. February 1st. Tulip bulb slash dog's name.

Oh, that one made me smile. I'd been going through my garage, looking for the right-sized Allen wrench to tighten up my bookcase when I'd been sidetracked by a box of tulip bulbs I'd meant to plant last fall. I'd taken a few packets of bulbs from the box, was reading the names of the varieties. Acropolis, Floridale, the mailbox, fishing out circulars and envelopes, when a dog and her person came walking by. The dog had pretty cream-colored fur and came over to sniff my shoes when I'd asked if I could say hello.

And her person had smilingly nodded. He'd added that her name was Floridale. I laughed in surprise as I petted her. What a pretty word to hear for January 29, light bulbs slash bathroom vanity. Oh, that one was interesting too. I had been in the grocery store when it was busy and pulled my cart into a little corner by the birthday candles to double-check my list. Just as I was attempting to merge back into traffic, I'd bumped a shelf and a box of light bulbs wobbled down into my cart. bulbs wobbled down into the cart they went.

The very next morning I'd been rubbing bleary eyes in front of the mirror. When I'd reached for the light switch and heard a pop, The bulb had blown. Well, well, well, I'd said, as I caught up my toothbrush in the low light. Looks like I'm one step ahead. I didn't know if these harmonies had always been floating around in my orbit, and I had just not been paying close enough attention to spot them, or if this was a new occurrence. I didn't even know what the right word for them was. I picked harmonies because that was how they felt. Like a single note played a key apart. And truthfully, I didn't care.

I had my secrets. I let the universe keep hers. I just liked witnessing them. They brought a sparkle back to my eyes. Made dull days shine with specialness. And it led me back to my journal, a side effect I was very happy for. I wrote of the vibrating guitar strings that were plucked around me in the world, and dreamt of all the possibilities for more ordinary magic day to day. Little Harmonies harmonies. I'd been noting them down in my journal lately.

Any time I noticed a little echo in my day. Some small moment when something was mirrored. A thought I'd had, appearing in the real world. A word I'd just learned, uttered by a stranger at the next table in a cafe. A song stuck in my head before bed, playing when I started up the car. Those little harmonies feel like magic to me, like catching a glimpse of the internal wiring of the universe. And a friend had suggested that I start writing them down. She said she did, and it helped keep a feeling of awe and amazement fresh in her mind. So when they popped up, I took my journal from my bag and just made a note. and flipped through my little log book to write. February 3rd. Cookbook slash new coffee special. Just the night before, I'd been flipping the dessert section, a frequent happening for me when

I saw a recipe for miso caramel. Hmm, I thought. What would that be like? A little salty? Like a salted caramel, but with the extra umami of the miso. I'd been intrigued, but not pea soup for supper and forgotten about the sweet miso idea. day, standing in line at the coffee shop, just as the person in front of me paid and stepped aside. One of the baristas started sketching out their new weekly specials on the chalkboard beside the register. And second from the top was a miso caramel latte. Whoa, I had ordered it immediately and stepped aside to write it into my book. A minute later, just as I was reflecting on what the odds of this coincidence might be, I heard my name called from the counter and went to retrieve my drink.

The ceramic cup was warm in my hands and the barista had made a pretty plump snowman in the foam art on top. I walked carefully back to my table, trying my best not to jostle him. I sat and took a slow sip. Mmm. It was really delicious.

Huh. I can't say that I would have been able to identify the flavor as miso. But what I loved about it was that the sweetness sat on top of this balanced richness. of this balanced richness. It wasn't just sugar that sometimes left me feeling a bit sick when I got too much. It tasted just a bit sweet, a bit salty, and a bit earthy. I caught the eye of the barista and gave them a little applause. They made a small bow and got back to tamping and steaming. I looked back down at my notebook,

reminding myself of the other recent harmonies I'd noticed. February 1st, Tulip bulb slash dog's name. That one made me smile. I'd been going through my garage looking for the right- sized allen wrench to tighten up my bookcase. When I'd been sidetracked by a box of tulip bulbs, I'd meant to plant last fall. I'd taken a few packets of bulbs from the box and read the names of the varieties. Acropolis, Floradale, Purple Prince, and so on. Then, just a few hours later, I'd been at the mailbox, fishing out circulars and envelopes

when a dog and her person came walking by. The dog had pretty cream-colored shoes. When I'd asked if I could say hello, and. What a pretty word to hear for the first time and then twice in one day. January 29th. Light bulbs slash bathroom vanity. Oh, that one was interesting, too. I'd been in the grocery store when it was busy, and pulled my cart into a little corner by the birthday candles to double-check my list. Just as I was attempting to merge back into traffic. I'd bumped a shelf and a box of light bulbs wobbled down into my cart. I'd reached for it to return it to its place. for it to return it to its place.

Then had a faint memory of looking for new bulbs a while back and coming up with a single dusty one in the back of my linen closet. So back into the cart they went. The very next morning I'd been rubbing bleary eyes in front of the mirror when I'd reached for the light bulb and heard a pop. The bulb had blown. Well, well, well, I'd said as I caught up my toothbrush in the low light. looks like I'm one step ahead. I didn't know if these harmonies had always been floating around in my orbit, and I just hadn't been paying close enough attention to spot them. Or if this was a new occurrence. I didn't even know what the right word for them was. I picked harmonies because that was how they felt. Like a single note played a key apart.

And truthfully, I didn't care. I had my secrets. And let the universe keep hers. I just like witnessing them. They brought a sparkle back to my eyes, made dull days shine with specialness, and it led me to the end of the world. made dull days shine with specialness. And it led me back to my journal,

a side effect I was happy for. I wrote of the vibrating guitar strings that were plucked around me in the world, undreamed of all the possibilities for more ordinary magic day to day. Sweet dreams.