by
Cathy Bamji
blocking the light, causing dark shadows. They are monsters with giant arms, reaching to grab every part
of my body. In the beginning I am walking, carefully stepping over the tree roots that jut up in my path,
moving the branches out of the way. But the trees get thicker, the light dimmer and my fear takes hold. I
run faster and faster, trying to find the light, but it eludes me. I trip over broken, dead trees, my hair
tangled with dry leaves and spider webs. My face is smeared with tears and sweat and dirt. When I can’t
run anymore, I collapse against a large rock, confused and scared. My breathing comes as deep,
uncontrolled panic.
When I open my eyes, the trees are gone. The forest is in my mind and I am left lying on my sweat-
dampened sheets, gasping. This dream comes daily now. It even comes when I am awake.
I run as fast as I can. The trees snag my clothes and scratch my arms. My feet move quickly, jumping over
roots and piles of leaves and then… they no longer touch the ground. I rise straight up, moving between
the trees, untouched. My panic dissipates, my breathing slows and I stare longingly at the emerging
sunlight. It warms my chilled skin and renews my confidence. When I look down, I can see the whole
forest. The trees are fuzzy green spots creating a thick comforting carpet. There are no monsters, no long
arms reaching out to drag me back. My face is clean and my world is bright.
This new dream becomes my mantra; this forest, my source for healing. When the grief is too great
and my resources too low, I become trapped in the forest, unable to see the light, unable to see the
forest for what it is. But over time I am capable of walking calmly through my forest, no longer
scared of the unseen, fully aware that I will emerge. I practice whenever I can. I walk the forest so
many times that I make a wide path, flattening the leaves and crawling vines. Soon my path has a
distinct entrance and exit. Soon I am able to turn around and look at the forest. Soon I am able to
remember what the forest is and why I have to travel there, why it is so important to come out the
other side. Now I understand that the forest is my memories, my grief, my feelings of lost opportunity
and deep sadness. The journey through the forest is my healing path.
Ms. Bamji lives a kaleidoscope life and writes for self-discovery, meaning and purpose. Though her writings are
diverse and varied, she finds the greatest inspiration writing about extraordinary things that are veiled in simplicity.
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