Letting the Forest Come to You

There was a season when I kept telling myself,

“If I could just get to the mountains, I’d finally feel relief.”

Our cabin at Magic Mountain sits close to 9,000 feet.
Up there, the air is thinner, the stars feel closer,
and the trees seem to hold a kind of ancient stillness my body leans into.

Every time we arrived, something in me would loosen.
My breath would deepen.
The quiet would reach places words never could.

But most of my life isn’t lived at 9,000 feet.
It’s lived in the carpool lane, in the kitchen,
on my couch at 10:30 p.m. when the house is finally still.

For a long time, I thought that meant I had to wait...
wait for the next trip
wait for the next retreat
wait for the next “escape” to feel like myself again.

One night, I decided to stop waiting.

I turned off the kitchen lights.
Lit a single candle.
Put on forest sounds.
Closed my eyes and imagined myself under the trees.

Nothing dramatic happened.
No lightning bolt.
Just a small, honest exhale that felt like it had been waiting all day.

It was the first time I really understood:

I don’t need to leave my life to feel restored.
Sometimes I just need a way to let the forest come to me
through sound, light, memory, breath, and intention.

That’s what “forest medicine” has become for me...
simple practices to let my body remember what safety, slowness, and wonder feel like…
even in the middle of ordinary days.

Our magazine, Sacred Forest, grew from that place.

It’s a gathering of those small moments and gentle practices,
little ways of bringing Magic Mountain into the lives we’re already living
a candle in the bathroom,
a slow breath by the window,
a few quiet pages when the world feels too loud.

If you’re reading this and feeling a quiet ache,
I just want you to know: you’re not alone in it.

You don’t have to move to the mountains.
You don’t have to start over.
You are allowed to begin right where you are
with the body you have, the life you have,
and one tiny practice that helps you remember it's okay to soften and exhale.

In the months ahead, I’ll be sharing more of this forest world
pieces from Magic Mountain,
sneak peeks from Sacred Return,
and the children’s storybook that’s been taking shape under these same trees.

But for today, maybe it’s enough to do what I did that first night

turn off one light,
light one candle,
take one slow breath,
and imagine the forest meeting you exactly where you are.

You’re worthy of that kind of gentleness.  Let yourself be nourished by the Forest. For. Rest.