The pine trees are calling me home.
I always felt a special connection to pine trees; a sense of familiarity. Like a memory that is just out of reach. As a little girl, we often made family trips to the forest, but I only remember the visits to pine forests. As I grew older, I started to go there myself.
When I was in need of rest and nature.
When I felt that I had lost my way and wanted to return to my purpose path.
Connecting with them recharged me and gave me a clear vision of what I wanted in life. Pine trees have guided me for as long as I can remember. And as the years passed, my desire to be around them grew stronger. My monthly visits to the forest were no longer enough. When this connection transformed into a desire for wanderlust, I finally understood.
They were calling me home.
They were showing me the way to my soul. All I had to do was follow. I gave in to the desire to find where these majestic teachers were leading me. They guided me into the Appalachian Mountains of America and shared stories with me about owls and foxes. They brought me to the high peaks of Banff in Canada, so I could see all their different forms of beauty. They led me into the old forests of Sweden, where you can still feel the spirits of the Vikings roaming around. I followed them into the land of enchantment, the high desert of New Mexico where they watched over me while I played in wild rivers.
And I will keep searching —for that feeling of familiarity, for that memory, convinced that if I find this magical place, I will remember.
