Suggested Audio: Unravel (instrumental) by Björk
A vision that came to mind one day whilst I was thinking about visualisation techniques. It’s basically me lay in a forest as I’d previously discussed with my psychologist but I saw something different than the rainfall example that actually stressed me out. Argh, rain and wavy hair is a recipe for disaster not wellbeing! It’s fun coming up with your own scenarios.
A broken soul lies on her back in a clearing in the centre of a dense forest. Multiple trees, endless foliage and a sprinkle of bluebells adding promises of colour to the full spectrum of greenery.
Her left side, weakened and spastic with a fantastic walking stick lay beside her, covered in the glistening morning dew.
She looks to the left and sees dense pine. Sunlight barely penetrating giving it an air of threat. An obvious haven for shy, reclusive deer who have no interest in venturing into the clearing. They retreat, staying the misconceived protection of the sunless landscape. Scattered shotgun cartridges give a hint that all is not calm.
Her right side overcompensates to balance out her movements. Overly strong muscles and another worn out hip, there’s nothing covered in dew except her tense yet tender hand.
She looks to the right and with eyebrows raised, takes in the sight of mighty Scots Pines proudly displaying their strong boughs and standing erect for miles. Streams of sunlight reaching through, bathing the ground in gentle hope. Ferns provide cover for the wildlife more fortunate.
She slowly closes her eyes to take in the sounds around her. Quiet snaps of twigs as animals dare venture for food, a faint trickle of water from firebreaks filled with rain water. Then she notices the persistent whispers and gasps from the trees. Wind desperately trying to get her full attention.
Whisper… gasp… sigh…
Whisper… gasp… sigh…
With face towards the sky, eyes still shut and ears more open than they’ve ever been, she hears. The fragile soul lay in the dew absorbs the forest’s gentle words. A tentative smile forms on her lips as she faces towards the sunlight.
She rises from the dew-soaked clearing and walks towards the mightiest tree she sees.
© Copyright: Sharon Lawson™