Shouts & MurmursHelp—I’m a Narrator Stuck in the Calm.com Meditation App!Photograph by graphixel / GettySave this storySave this storySave this storySave this storyWelcome to the session. Let’s start by finding a comfortable, seated position. Allow your arms to rest gently by your sides. Keep your back straight and your face soft, and let our serene rainstorm soundscape envelop—Sorry. I’m so sorry. Does anyone have an umbrella? Sure, rhythmic, pattering rain can help regulate your nervous system, and trigger your autonomous sensory meridian response, but me? I’m wet. Like, soaked. There’s water in my shoes.Also, I think I may have seasonal affective disorder.Obviously you’re not doing great, either—that’s why you’re on the Calm.com meditation app, trying to listen to “Soothing Droplets of Rain Falling Over Wildflower Field Near Peaceful Waterfall in Yosemite National Park” while simultaneously riding a screeching 6 train.The point is, I’m not blaming you. But have you ever visited a wildflower field near a peaceful waterfall in Yosemite National Park? The pollen is titanic. My nose is clogged, my eyes are red, and I’ve eaten so much Zyrtec my mouth tastes like pennies. It’s miserable.I am, like you, a city person. But this damn app is all about “Dreamy Deciduous Forest with Celtic Harp Interludes” and “Cherry Blossom Grove Featuring Fluffy Cloud Visuals for A.D.H.D. Support.” Would it kill them to upload a “Snowy Holiday Cityscape with Faintly Swearing Gift Seekers”? A “Summer’s Eve in Times Square Featuring Wind-borne Bootleg ‘Hamilton’ Lyrics”? I spend so much time in the woods, I probably have Lyme disease. The only infrastructure around here consists of Thomas Kinkadesque brick cottages, tranquilly drifting dhows, or yurts.Maybe I’m depressed. But look at who I have to talk to—no offense.Sure, there’s always the white-noise rooms, but jumping into a pocket dimension filled with five hundred IcyCool 4 USB fans really isn’t my vibe.Sorry, that was my stomach growling. I haven’t eaten in—well, ever, really. God, those “Peaceful Antelope Grazing in African Savannah” look absolutely delicious. But, no, we apparently need their gentle clopping and chomping sounds to bring you a “tingly, anxiety-reducing A.S.M.R. experience.”Also, all those lazy lions you hear purring in the background? You wanna know why they’re so chill? It’s because they’re worn out from chasing me, the poor sucker whose only source of water is the dew licked off ferns in the “Verdant Rain Forest Filled with Croaking Red-Eyed Tree Frogs to Fall Asleep To”!Look, I get it, you’re trying to carve out a moment of calm. I applaud your commitment. Life where you are seems hard. War, rising gas prices, literary discourse on BookTok—we don’t have any of that here in the Calm.com meditation app. I know I’ve got it better than most. It’s just, I need a mental-health break, too!Yes, I have met a ton of celebrities here. Kevin Bacon coasts by on his dhow all the time. Harry Styles borrowed a Tibetan singing bowl from me last week (he still hasn’t given it back). But all these guys want to do is share sleep stories about “The Sheep Who Discovered the Northern Lights,” or “The Cozy Journey of a Nordland Night Bus.” Why’d you take so long to drop your album, Harry? Quit recording another beditation about your “Moonlit Sojourn to a Babbling Brook” and give us the indie-pop banger we deserve!You don’t think I’ve lodged an official complaint? I’ve gone all the way to the top, to the big boss himself. But all Matthew McConaughey had to say was, “The only way to escape your suffering is to become one with the alpha waves, to become a weightless, bodiless, bilateral stimulus emanating throughout the Calm.com ether—all right, all right, all right?” Not all right, Matthew. Now I have to whisper subliminal messages like “Let’s take a mindful breath break,” “Keep calm and carry on,” and “Come hither, dear lambs, join us in our wondrous serenity forever—for a very reasonable onetime fee of $499.99” all day. Is that a life?Curse my voice for being so authoritative yet reassuring! David Attenborough is my great-uncle, thrice removed. I’ve got to get out. Does Audible need someone to record any hockey erotica? ?