Why We Must Return to the Forest One Last Time
For months, I’ve been writing about the forest.
The place where we become lost.
The place where trauma changes us.
The place on the healing journey where we discover gifts we never would have chosen to learn.
The forest has been my teacher for a very long time.
But during a recent sound bath and Akashic Journey, I realized there was one final trip we needed to make.
Not because we were lost again.
Because we had forgotten something there.
The Journey Back
One of the things I love most about leading Akashic meditations is that I never really know where they’re going until we arrive.
I prepare.
I listen.
And then I follow.
This particular evening felt different from the beginning.
One of my dear clients quietly told me she had just gotten married.
They’re keeping it between themselves for now, but she wanted to share her joy.
Another client had just returned from Europe and is courageously beginning a new chapter while navigating a relationship touched by addiction. I’ve met her partner before. I know how deeply he loves her, and I have faith that whatever path they each walk, love has not abandoned them.
Another woman is blossoming in a beautiful new relationship.
Others are learning, perhaps for the first time, what it means to truly love themselves.
Even before the meditation began, something gentle was gathering.
One client pointed out the date.
June 26, 2026.
06-26-2026.
She smiled as she noticed all the sixes.
Instead of seeing them as something ominous, she saw them as a symbol of gentle love.
Honest love.
Innocent love.
The kind of love that quietly chooses us when we’re finally ready to receive it.
I had never thought about the number six that way before.
Perhaps some symbols simply wait until we’re ready to understand them differently.
The Part of Ourselves That Stayed Behind
As the meditation unfolded, we found ourselves returning to earlier versions of ourselves.
Not to relive old pain.
Not to reopen old wounds.
But to meet the person who began the journey.
The version of ourselves who stood at the edge of the forest without knowing how difficult the path would become.
The one who kept walking anyway.
Some had to change directions entirely.
Some survived enormous hardship.
Some sacrificed dreams they thought would define their lives.
And yet every one of them kept going.
During the healing journey, we retrieved a piece of ourselves that had quietly remained behind.
Not because it was broken.
Because it had been waiting.
Waiting for us to become the person capable of carrying it home.
Honouring the Journey
Something beautiful happened.
No one was asked to erase their past.
No one was asked to pretend the difficult years hadn’t happened.
Instead, we honoured them.
We thanked the earlier version of ourselves for having the courage to continue.
We gathered the wisdom.
The resilience.
The compassion.
The strength.
The tenderness.
The gifts that had been earned through living.
Then, in the meditation, each person received another gift.
Not something to carry in their hands.
Something placed gently into the heart.
A reminder that perhaps life wasn’t asking them to keep proving themselves anymore.
Perhaps it was finally asking them to receive.
When the Walls Have Done Their Job
We also spent time with the heart.
Many people discovered that the walls they had built around it had once been necessary.
Those walls had protected them.
Helped them survive.
Kept them moving through seasons that asked everything of them.
But several people quietly made a decision during the meditation.
Maybe…
just maybe…
they didn’t need every brick anymore.
Not because the world had suddenly become perfectly safe.
Because they had become stronger.
Sometimes healing isn’t about building higher walls.
Sometimes it’s about opening one small gate.
And letting love find its way in.
Maybe the Forest Is Behind Us
As I reflected on the evening afterward, something unexpected settled into my heart.
I wonder if many of us are entering a gentler season.
Not because life has stopped being complicated.
But because we’ve become different.
We’ve survived things we once thought would break us.
We’ve learned discernment.
We’ve learned boundaries.
We’ve learned stewardship.
We’ve learned how to tend our own little corner of the forest.
Perhaps we don’t have to keep proving how strong we are.
Perhaps strength has quietly become part of who we are.
The Strawberries Are Ripe
This summer I’ve found myself thinking less about surviving and more about living.
Eating fresh strawberries.
Sitting outside in the sunshine a little longer.
Enjoying a slow cup of coffee.
Laughing with friends.
Watching the trees move in the wind.
Celebrating marriages.
Believing in second chances.
Making room for love.
The forest taught us many things.
But forests were never meant to be permanent homes.
Eventually…
we come back carrying gifts.
Walking Between Worlds
Walking Between Worlds has never really been about escaping one world for another.
It’s been about learning to bring the wisdom of one into the other.
We walk into the forest.
We learn.
We grieve.
We heal.
We retrieve what was forgotten.
And then…
we walk home.
Not empty-handed.
But carrying the very gifts we thought we’d lost.
The Invitation
If you’ve been wandering through your own forest for a long time…
perhaps it’s time to look around one last time.
Not for another lesson.
Not for another wound.
Not for another reason to stay.
Look instead for the gift you almost left behind.
The courage.
The compassion.
The wisdom.
The love.
Pick it up.
Place it gently in your heart.
Thank the person who carried you this far.
Then step out into the sunlight.
The strawberries are ripe.
The coffee is warm.
Someone you love is waiting for you.
And maybe…
just maybe…
this next chapter isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about finally enjoying the person you fought so hard to become.
Thank you for reading.
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
What gift have you discovered in yourself that only became visible after the hardest part of your journey was over?
