Fasting, Forest Mist, and an Easter Prayer in Snowdonia’s “Magical Rainforest”

What happens when you step back from noise and food and plans, then step into a quiet wood where everything is dripping, bright, alive? This is a story of a water fast, a temperate rainforest, and a simple Easter prayer for peace. It is soft and imperfect and human. It is also a thank you to Wales for holding us with moss and river spray while we tried to listen.

The Setting: A Temperate Rainforest in Wales

We parked the van in south central Wales, near a protected dark-sky area, and without much fuss the forest wrapped around us. Oaks with wide, steady limbs. Ferns that seem to bow when the wind passes. Lichens that look like small scrolls tucked in bark. Mosses everywhere, velvety and bright. Everything wet, always wet, like the forest carries a memory of the sea.

They call these woodlands Celtic rainforests, and that name fits. It is not tropical heat, but it is rich, green, and filled with life that loves mist and shade. If you are curious about these woods, Snowdonia’s Eryri National Park has an overview of how these Atlantic oak forests shelter rare lichens and delicate fungi, and why this climate suits them so well. You can read about it on the Eryri page for Celtic rainforests in Wales. For a broader sense of where these forests live and how they differ, the overview of Celtic rainforests in Wales helps connect the dots between coast, valley, and ancient woodland. And if you want pure wanderlust, the guide to discovering Wales’ Celtic rainforests paints it beautifully. This is the kind of place that slows your pulse. You listen. You feel small in a good way.

We arrived on a Friday night, after an earlier stop by a lovely lake where a group of campers tried to look mysterious. We whispered “druids,” then laughed when it turned out to be friendly stoners doing their thing with smiles and headlamps. Good neighbors either way. Spring in Wales can feel like one long draught of cold tea with sugar at the end. Rain, then light. Mist, then sun. The forest holds it all and softens the edges.

A Water Fast in the Woods

We had started a water fast on Thursday night. No food, just water. The choice was simple. The day was Good Friday, and the season felt like it was asking for a kind of stillness, a kind of offering. Fasting brings humility for us. It makes the body soft, the mind a little quieter. Sometimes it makes the limbs shaky. Warm layers help. Gentle walks help. Sitting and watching a stream helps the most.

Here is something practical. My body has lived with Type 1 diabetes for over 30 years. Fasting is never casual in that context. It is an austerity. It can also be unpredictable. Blood sugars can dip low for no clear reason, and that can be dangerous. In the past, I have had to break fasts early to sip honey and stabilize. This time I felt grateful. I wore a continuous glucose monitor and used an Omnipod pump, with the Loop app helping them talk. Not medical advice. Just what helped me keep things steady while the body rested.

Fasting can be a teacher, but it does not have to be a drama. It can be a quiet friend who sits beside you and says, let’s put things down for a day. Let’s see what remains when we stop reaching. In the forest, fasting felt like a low hum, a soft bell in the chest that kept ringing, even when I was tired, even when I was cold.

Why We Fasted at Easter

A friend asked if we were fasting for health. That is part of it, of course. The body appreciates rest. But the deeper reason was devotional. We offered the fast to God, in honor of Ye’Shua, Jesus the Nazorean, son of Mary, son of Joseph, Emmanuel, Rabbi, Christos, the one anointed. Names hold stories. Names carry memory. We spoke them with love.

The Easter days have their own gravity. You can feel the old story moving through the trees, even if only as a whisper. Suffering, silence, dawn, an empty tomb, and the wild surprise of love that does not end. We do not claim high understanding. We only know that this weekend asks for quiet hearts. It invites a reset inside the chest.

In these woods we prayed for closeness. For a little more tenderness in how we speak to each other, and how we meet strangers. For courage to put down hard talk and sharp breath. For help to practice what Jesus taught so simply: love God with your whole heart, mind, and soul, then love your neighbor as yourself. Bhakti in plain words. Sadhana, the daily practice of turning and turning toward love. Some days we stumble. Some days the prayer catches like a small flame that keeps you warm all through the night.

Bhakti, Beads, and a Gentle Rhythm

We keep it simple out here. We chant the holy names with beads. We sing when the voice wakes up. We listen to scripture, and to teachers who speak about devotion without making it heavy. We let the forest echo it back. Repeat, remember, breathe, and then do the dishes.

There is a lovely old story about Saint Francis and a fire. He would not stomp out a flame in anger, even a small fire, because he respected the life in it. Whether or not we get every detail right, the point is clear. If there is life, there is a person, a spark, a someone worth greeting with care. The forest teaches this without words. Moss on stone, lichen on bark, river on slate, everything alive, everything relating. You start to bow, without thinking. You whisper please and thank you to rocks.

Peace Begins Small, Then Spreads

We prayed for peace in our van, our kitchen conversations, and the little moments where we miss each other. We prayed for peace for our families and friends, the kind of peace that softens old patterns. Then for our towns and countries. Then for the whole circle, for Earth and all beings everywhere. It feels simple to write. It is not simple to live. Still, the prayer feels good in the mouth. Let peace prevail.

We tried a small practice that helped us. For a moment, just one moment, put down criticism and judgment. Put down the labels and the team jerseys. Forget the categories that divide us. Stand in the forest, or in your kitchen, and let everything be just what it is. Then offer love. Quiet, no fuss. It is a sweet experiment.

The Mood of Easter: Turning Swords into Plowshares

Easter is a season of turning things over. In the woods, we talked about what to give up for a day. Food was one thing. But the heart knows the real offering. Maybe give up a little hard heartedness. Give up the need to win. Give up the last word. If you have to put something down to make space for God, put it down gently, then walk away smiling.

When the mind got loud, we sang. When the body got cold, we wore socks and laughed and watched the mist stand up from the river like a spirit and then sit down again. That river kept speaking in languages we do not know. It sounded like peace.

Wales, Thank You

This part is simple. Thank you, Wales. Thank you Eryri, Snowdonia, and your deep green valleys. Thank you for the oak groves and the moss steps. Thank you for the ancient language that sings like water over rock. Thank you to the elders, the chapels, the quiet lanes, and the stories hung from every hillside. We felt held and humbled. We felt small and safe.

If you want to learn about these woods and why they matter, see the Eryri National Park’s note on Celtic rainforests in Wales, and the lively guide to discovering Wales’ Celtic rainforests. These links add texture to what our eyes saw and what our lungs breathed.

A Simple Practice You Can Try Today

You do not need a forest or a fast to try this. It fits in a living room.

• Sit quietly for five minutes. Let the breath go soft and low.
• Say any holy names that sing in your own heart. Whisper if you like. Sing if you can.
• Picture someone you love. Then picture someone you find difficult. Offer the same small blessing to both.
• If you have beads, count a round. If not, count the breath to ten, three times.
• End with gratitude. One thing will do. If you feel a little lighter, give that light away in a thought or a text.

Tip: If you are curious about joining a friendly circle online, our community hub has a simple sign-up. You are welcome, as you are. Here is the door to the Juicy MagiK Agora community.

Diabetes, Tech, and Tenderness

A quick word for anyone fasting with Type 1 diabetes. Please be careful and guided. What supported me was a continuous glucose monitor and an Insulin pump, connected with the Loop app to help keep sugars stable. This is personal, not advice. Every body is different. If you feel called to rest the body, you can rest in other ways too. Gentle food. Gentle walks. Gentle media. The main task is tenderness.

If you are taking these journeys with us and want to help keep the van rolling and the cameras working, we are grateful for every bit of support. You can learn how to support projects by Juicy MagiK on our site. No pressure. Always love.

A Closing Blessing From the Riverbank

We closed the day with a prayer, the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic, the way Jesus taught his friends to pray. The words felt old and fresh at the same time. The trees listened. So did we.

Here is our Easter wish, sent like a paper boat into your day:

• May your home be peaceful and warm.
• May your loved ones feel safe and seen.
• May your body be fed, clothed, and sheltered.
• May your heart grow soft and strong.
• May we all choose the gentle path of devotion, again and again.

If you feel like sharing a win, a worry, or a prayer request, we are listening. If you are a peace worker or a light worker in your own humble way, please keep going. We will try to do the same.

Conclusion

Fasting in Snowdonia’s mist taught us to slow down, listen, and offer love. The forest held our small vows and helped us keep them. Easter stretched the heart and reminded us that devotion can be tender and simple. If this moved something in you, share a blessing with someone today. And if you want to walk with us, you are always welcome in the Juicy MagiK Agora community. Peace be with you and upon you. Haribol.

mariakerwin

As a former serial entrepreneur, she turned from a workaholic in the business world to freedom and creativity, living now as a writer, creator and world traveller. Since an early age Maria is close to death and what exists beyond, courageously exploring the dimensions of existence. A Kundalini Awakening guided her into the abyss of fully surrendering to the life force itself, crushing all known aspects of her old life. Finally, it led her to her purpose of bridging both worlds, connecting to what goes beyond the ordinary.

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