The Unexpected Gift of Forest Bathing — And Remembering My Own Medicine

April 3, 2025: The Day I Became My Own Teacher

I woke this day with anticipation sparkling in my chest, a quiet hope that today would become one of those sacred days I would remember forever. I had carved this time out not just to assist my mother with tasks, but for myself — a week to walk the path of self-love and soulful indulgence, to do the things my heart had been whispering about for so long.

I discovered an event at a Japanese garden 40 minutes away, and my spirit leapt at the thought of "forest bathing" — an experience that once felt so out of reach during my earlier years. Back then, life was a constant swirl of work obligations, raising two children, and never-ending logistics. But I am no longer that version of myself anymore.

I booked it. A declaration to the Universe: I choose this.

As I arrived, the garden welcomed me like an old friend — meticulously trimmed, radiant in its spring glow. Sunlight poured through the canopy, birds sang like gentle bells of welcome, and the energy felt alive with promise. Even the receptionist, a joyful Japanese woman, carried a lighthearted vibration that mirrored my rising joy.

The guide introduced herself and began the walk, inviting me and another person to observe and appreciate the beauty surrounding us. I listened, hoping for something more — an immersion, a teaching, a ritual. Yet, as the moments passed, I realized: it was not what I expected. There was no depth of explanation, no ceremony, no meditation as I had envisioned. Just a few words, a silent walk, and the tour ended at the bamboo grove as quietly as it began.

I felt the pang of disappointment rising in my chest. Old patterns would have let that disappointment sour my day, make me feel "cheated," or blame myself for hoping for too much. But not today.

Today, I caught myself. Spirit was whispering, not scolding but illuminating: See this lesson, beloved. You are the guide you’ve been waiting for.

I had thought I needed external validation — a teacher, a structured experience, a container held by someone else. But as I sat beneath the trees, letting the filtered sunlight bathe my face, I saw the deeper truth. I have been forest bathing all along, every day, in my own way. The guide may not have offered the ceremony I anticipated, but I carried the ceremony within me.

And so, I chose to stay. When others left, I lingered. I returned to the forest paths alone, not with a sense of lack but with sovereignty. I reconnected with the trees in my own rhythm. I meditated beneath their embrace. I absorbed the sun’s codes, and my camera captured the light — brilliant, cosmic, unmistakable codes from Source, blessings from Spirit woven into sunbeams.

I realized something powerful in this moment: Maybe I wasn't meant to meet a guide today. Maybe the guide was meant to meet me.

Maybe, by simply being my radiant, authentic self, I offered activation to another soul. And maybe Spirit crafted this whole experience to remind me: You are your own teacher.

No one outside of me can teach me how to love the forest, how to love my own being, or how to walk the path of remembrance. That wisdom lives within my bones, my breath, my being.

I left the garden not with disappointment, but with gratitude — an alchemist of experience. I transmuted expectation into expansion. I found joy not in perfection, but in presence.

And I decided to return, not alone, but with my mother and her friend. To share the beauty of the garden not as a seeker, but as a bringer of light. This is the magic of my becoming.

Spirit’s whispered message to me:

"You are no longer a student waiting for the lesson. You are the lesson in motion. You are the living ceremony, the walking forest, the teacher you sought."

And so it is.

With humility and gratitude,

Solarys