Hi there.
You've made it.
You're here.
It's time to settle in and let everything go.
And my only job is to help you do just that.
Tonight,
After some gentle relaxation,
I'll bring the forest to you.
A kind of lyrical forest bath,
Bathing in inspirations that have filled the hearts of poets.
As you rest,
The subconscious mind will draw in the forest's beauty,
Held by its protective arms,
And cradled by its infinite,
Connected,
And deep roots.
All of which you'll feel,
Even if only in the depths of your mind.
As you drift into deep,
Healing sleep,
You'll bathe among the trees,
And soak in their wisdom.
Now,
Allow yourself to take a very slow,
Deep breath in through the nose,
And feel the breath fall away as you breathe out.
Again,
Slowly breathing in through the nose,
And feel the breath fall away as you breathe out.
Once more.
And now,
Allow your breath to flow naturally.
The body breathes,
As do the trees.
Feel the breath rise,
And feel the breath fall.
The body breathes,
As do the trees.
The body breathes,
As you rest.
At this time,
Become aware of your eyes,
And relax them.
Feel the forehead release.
Feel the temples soften.
Again,
Relax the eyes.
Let your mouth release.
The jaw release.
The lips,
The chin,
Release.
The face is soft.
Content.
Existing.
Relax into that existence.
Rest within yourself,
Held there,
Deep within.
Become aware of your ears,
Around the ears.
And the scalp.
Release all tension there.
All tension falling away.
Feel the softness of the scalp.
Unravel any tension wound in the neck,
Your shoulders.
Feel the arms supported by the surface beneath you.
The hands empty,
Bare.
Letting go of whatever you're invisibly holding.
All of it.
Released.
Content.
Feel a release in the chest.
A release in the belly.
The back,
Relaxed.
Soften in the hips and legs.
And the feet.
The feet.
Reclined.
Happy to be in one place.
Content.
And now,
Whenever you're ready,
I'll offer you the trees and their lovers.
From the earnest hearts of poets.
William Shakespeare.
Rudyard Kipling.
Joyce Kilmer.
And Alfred Lord Tennyson.
Under the Greenwood Tree.
By William Shakespeare.
Under the Greenwood Tree.
Who loves to lie with me.
And turn his merry note onto the sweet bird's throat.
Come hither.
Come hither.
Come hither.
Here shall he see no enemy but winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun.
And loves to live in the sun.
Seeking the food he eats.
And pleased with what he gets.
Come hither.
Come hither.
Come hither.
Come hither.
Here shall he see no enemy but winter and rough weather.
The Way Through the Woods.
By Rudyard Kipling.
They shut the road through the woods seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again.
And now,
You would never know.
There was once a road through the woods before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath and the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees that where the ring dove broods and the badgers roll at ease.
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet,
If you enter the woods of a summer evening late,
When the night air cools on the trout-ringed pools,
Where the otter whistles his mate,
They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few.
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet and the swish of a skirt in the dew.
Steadily cantering through the misty solitudes as though they perfectly knew the old lost road through the woods.
But there is no road.
Through the woods.
Trees by Joyce Kilmer I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast.
A tree that looks at God all day and lifts her leafy arms to pray.
A tree that may in summer wear a nest of robins in her hair.
A tree upon whose bosom snow has lain.
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me.
But only God.
A tree.
The Oak by Alfred Lord Tennyson Live thy life.
Young and like yon oak.
Bright in spring,
Living cold.
Summer rich then.
And then autumn,
Soberer hued.
All his leaves.
Fallen at Lau.
These loving thoughts of the forest.
The forest's collective strength.
The tree's holy,
Arching branches.
Their deep and earthy woven roots.
Gently.
Into sleep.
There is nothing more to do than let the forest hold you in its arms.
