Over the past year, an injury has limited my ability to hike and spend long hours among the trees. Nature has always been a vital part of my daily rhythm and spiritual practice, so this season of stillness has invited me to seek new ways of connecting with the sacred around me.
Slowing down has not been easy, yet it has become a teacher. In place of long trails and far horizons, I’ve learned to walk slowly, breathe deeply, and listen more closely; to the wind through the branches, the birdsong at dawn, the quiet pulse of life that continues all around us.
I’m grateful that a few years ago I spent a week practicing Forest Bathing in North Carolina. That experience opened my heart to the gifts of intentional presence, deep observation, and a sense of communion with both the natural world and the Divine. Forest Bathing invites us into a way of seeing shaped by reciprocity, interconnectedness, mindful presence, restoration, and kinship.
Though I look forward to the day when I can once again wander the forest trails for hours, I sense that something in me has changed. The journey will no longer be about reaching a destination, but about walking prayerfully; each step an offering, each breath a reminder that I am part of a living, sacred whole.
Forest Stillness
Once I walked far and fast,
chasing summits through whispering trees.
Now I pause among the quiet trees,
waiting for what speaks without words.
The earth invites me to breathe slower,
to notice the shimmer of light on new leaves,
to feel the quiet pulse beneath my feet.
heartbeat of the Holy in all things.
In stillness I learn reciprocity:
that to be held is also to hold,
that every step, even the smallest,
can be a prayer returning home.
