The Forest Loves Your Bad Days

The Forest Loves Your Bad Days
A Journey You Won't Regret

You wake up forty minutes after your alarm that didn’t go off (you swore you set it and checked it the night before). You rush around getting ready for work (no time to shower; you’re already late as it is) skip breakfast (you can grab something on the way). Traffic, of course, picks this very day to be its most unforgiving (so much for breakfast).

You get to work, there’s a stack of papers two coffee cups high on your desk and the first dozen are marked urgent (of course they are – how in God’s name can one stack get this big overnight?). You get right to work and when you finally lift your head to take a break, you realize you’ve worked straight through lunch (figures – par for the course for the day). Annnddd … here comes another stack (God get me outta here!)

Sound familiar … I’m sure it does. When days get like this, as I’m sure they will every now and then, instead of getting sucked into the negative aspects of a bad day in life, take your frustrations, resentment, aggravation, stress, fatigue, aches, and pains (and your new complete understanding why people “go postal”) to the forest instead.

The forest loves your bad days! When you walk amongst the trees, they will happily exchange your funky junk energy for some lovely and completely fresh new energy. Not to worry, trees are great recyclers, taking bad energy and sending it to Mother Earth whilst she, in return, springs forth new and vibrant energy for you to absorb.

So next time you want to quit, why not take a trip to the forest instead?

It’s a journey you will not regret taking!

BY Theresa Piper
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Off White Blog
3 years ago

Going through the forest is my favourite part of the walk. My dog Benji loves it too. I’m Grace. I live on a farm with my parents and I take Benji for a walk most days after school. While Benji’s playing, I stop to take a photo of a butterfly. I’m thinking about posting it on Facebook, but then I hear Benji barking. He’s jumping and running around a boy. The poor boy looks worried. ‘Benji, stop! Come here!’ I call and throw him his ball. I’m about to say sorry to the boy, but he’s gone.

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