Today I walked through the forest
On a quiet Sunday, far from the pressure of to-do lists and buzzing notifications, the beautiful spring forest calls. It doesn’t shout – it simply beckons. You step off the path of routine and into something older, deeper, magical. Something sacred.
This was more than a hike. It was a retreat for soul. A return to oneself.
Nature has long been a healer, its power not only felt in body but in soul too. Science may tell us that time spent in the woods lowers cortisol and lifts mood, but the truth goes deeper. The forest doesn’t just calm the nervous system – it awakens the psyche and connection with unconscious.
From a Jungian perspective, entering nature is a descent into the unconscious. The forest, with its tangled paths and dappled light, mirrors the inner landscape of the Self – the wild, the forgotten, the unknown. It’s the archetypal “wilderness” where transformation occurs. In myths and dreams, the hero steps into the forest not to escape the world, but to find what was lost. So too do we, on a Sunday retreat, seek not just rest, but remembrance.
Each element becomes symbolic:
A moss-covered stone may be the Self – quiet, ancient, steady.
A burst of red from a Scarlet Elf Cup might be a sign of vitality, of life insisting on beauty even in decay.
The wind whispering through branches could be the voice of the anima or animus – inviting us to listen.
In these moments, we become both the wanderer and the watcher. We feel a subtle alignment – the ego loosening its grip, the deeper Self stepping forward. Time slows and forest speaks.
You leave the forest changed – not because it gave you answers, but because it reminded you of your own. The sacred isn’t always in temples or texts. Sometimes, it’s in the hush of pine needles underfoot. In the play of sunlight on spring water. In the way a quiet Sunday becomes a pilgrimage.
Psychotherapy 
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