The Road Through the Forest —  A Reiki Guided Synchronicity

The Road Through the Forest — 
A Reiki Guided Synchronicity 

By Elaine (Lainey) Bowler — Reiki Master Teacher, Ballarat, Victoria
 
There are experiences that defy neat explanations. Moments where the sequence of events is so precisely, so tenderly arranged, that the only honest response is stillness — and gratitude.

This is one of those moments. And it began, as so many meaningful things do, with a winding road and a willingness to trust.

 
Guided From the Start
It started with a family emergency in 2024— a flight to the UK, unplanned and heavy. And yet even in that weight, I carried what I always carry: Reiki. I grounded myself, set my intentions, and asked the energy to flow for the highest good.

It was during that period abroad that I found myself attending an equine Reiki immersion training with Equine Reiki, Scotland, UK —at the Medicine Pony Tribe — a soul-nourishing experience that aligned beautifully with my work in animal healing and rescue. 

While researching that booking, a name caught my eye: Path of the Horse. I bookmarked it. Life moved on. The name settled quietly inside me, and I forgot.

Or so I believed.

 
The Nudge
Late last year, unprompted and unexplained, that name rose to the surface again. After further research, I found myself writing an email to Dean Mighell — Psychotherapist, Equine Assisted Psychotherapy practitioner, and founder of Path of the Horse — simply asking about his work, following a pull I couldn't fully articulate. In Reiki, we learn to honour the nudge.

Dean replied immediately. He invited me to visit — just days later. 

Into the Forest
I prepared as I always do. I placed a Reiki energy bubble around myself and my car, set my intentions clearly — safe travel, timely arrival, for the highest good — and downloaded offline maps. I breathed into the journey with an open and trusting heart.

And then the GPS had other plans entirely.

Somewhere between Trentham and Ballarat, my navigation pulled me off the sealed road and drew me deeper and deeper into the Wombat State Forest. The bitumen gave way to gravel. The gravel narrowed further still, until I found myself travelling along a forest management track — a thin, rutted fire trail barely wide enough for my car — winding through dense bush with no signage, no reception, and no clear way forward.

Several minutes passed before the full reality of my situation landed. I was lost. Properly, completely lost. Deep in a state forest, on a track entirely unsuitable for my vehicle, with no phone signal and no idea how far I had come from the main road.

I felt the panic begin to rise — that cold, contracting feeling that wants to take over and make everything worse. And in that moment, I did the only thing I know to do when the ground shifts beneath me.

I stopped. I breathed. I returned to Reiki.

Slow, deliberate Reiki breath. In through the nose, softening the belly, letting the exhale carry the panic with it. I placed my hands on my heart and I asked — quietly, sincerely — for Reiki to flow. To the situation. To the car. To me. For the highest good, whatever that looked like from here.

And then, steadied, I began to carefully reverse my way back along the narrow track — slowly, patiently, one careful metre at a time — back through the trees, back toward what I hoped was the main road.

 
A Quiet Miracle — The Winery 

I cannot tell you exactly how long it took. Time moves differently when you are navigating by breath rather than by GPS. But eventually — finally — the track widened, the trees thinned, and I found myself back on a sealed road.

And there, almost immediately, was a winery.

Glowing quietly in the afternoon light, entirely unassuming, entirely perfect. I pulled in, and the moment I did — one bar of mobile reception flickered to life on my phone.

Before I called Dean, I paused. I sent Reiki ahead — to the situation, to Dean, to whatever conversation was about to happen. I asked that it flow for the highest good, that any awkwardness or frustration be softened, that what needed to happen next would find its own ease.

And then I called him. Over an hour late. Apologetic, flustered, quietly laughing at the absurdity of it all — lost in a forest on the way to visit a healing sanctuary, sacred land — and genuinely uncertain whether he would still be waiting.

He was unhurried. He was kind. He didn't miss a beat.

"Don't worry at all," he said. "Where are you? I'll come and find you."

He came to meet me — and when he did, I discovered I had been mere minutes away from his gate the entire time. The forest track I had wandered down had taken me in an almost complete circle around the very property I was trying to reach. I had been so close. And yet without that winery, without that bar of reception, without Reiki steadying my hands enough to reverse out of a track I had no business being on — I might not have found my way at all.

I cannot help but wonder, even now, whether something was gently ensuring I arrived ready rather than simply on time. Whether the detour was, in some quiet way, the point.

Seven minutes behind Dean's ute along a dirt track, we crested a long driveway — and the world opened up.

 
A Place That Knows You
Twenty-nine acres of hilly acreage, held within the arms of the Wombat State Forest. Rolling hills. Ancient bush. A silence so alive it almost breathes. The moment I stepped out of the car, I felt it — not merely the beauty of the place, but something older and deeper. A resonance my body recognised before my mind had words for it.

This is a healing place. A powerful and sacred sanctuary.

I was drawn instinctively toward one particular area of the property. I didn't understand why. I simply followed it — the way you follow an impression in a Reiki session that you cannot yet name but know to honour.

 
The Name on the Wall
Dean spoke of his work as a Psychotherapist and Equine Assisted Psychotherapy practitioner — his dedication to veterans navigating complex PTSD, to the horses as healers and mirrors, to a vision rooted in compassion and presence. I listened, moved and inspired.

And then I saw it — a beautifully framed poem, a blessing of the land. And beneath it, a small, simple plaque bearing a name that stopped me completely.

I knew that name. I couldn't explain how.

Dean told me gently: his dear friend had passed away a few years ago. She had loved this land with her whole being. Her final wish had been to have her ashes scattered here, at Path of the Horse — the place where she felt most at peace.

Her name was Klaudia Hochhuth.

 
The Sacred Thread
For those within the Australian Reiki community, that name carries profound weight.

Klaudia Hochhuth was a Reiki Master initiated by Phyllis Lei Furumoto — the granddaughter of the beloved Hawayo Takata, who brought Usui Reiki from Japan to the Western world, and who became the lineage bearer of the Usui System of Natural Healing after her grandmother's passing. 

Klaudia's initiation placed her in direct sacred lineage with the very source of our tradition. She was among the first Reiki Masters in Australia, and in 1991 — when Reiki was barely a whisper in this country — she organised Australia's very first conference for Usui Reiki Masters. She initiated countless practitioners whose lineage flows through the hands of current Reiki Australia members to this day.

She had supported and encouraged Dean to follow his soul calling, and to build his vision. She had believed in Path of the Horse before it fully existed. 

And she had chosen to rest there — her ashes within the land, beneath the trees, in the hum of a place that heals.

The area I had been silently drawn to when I arrived — before I knew any of this — was near where she rests.

I had not planned this. No one could have.

 
What Reiki Knows
Standing there, in the quiet of that extraordinary place, I thought back to the forest track. To the panic. To the breath. At that moment I sent Reiki ahead before picking up the phone — doubting myself completely, over an hour late, wondering whether I had somehow missed the moment entirely.

And I thought: what if I hadn't been late at all?

What if the winding, the getting lost, the reversing slowly out of a fire track in the Wombat State Forest — what if all of it was simply the long way around to arriving exactly when I was meant to? Humbled. Softened. Quiet enough, finally, to feel what that land wanted me to feel the moment I stepped out of the car.

I do not believe I found Path of the Horse by accident. And I do not believe I was alone in that forest, uncertain and an hour behind, wondering whether to give up and turn home.

I believe, with great gentleness and without any need to prove it, that Klaudia was there. That something of her — her warmth, her humour, her deep and abiding love for that land and for Reiki — steadied me when the doubt crept in. Guided me back from the forest track to the main road, to the winery. Kept Dean patient and unhurried on the other end of the phone. And drew me, without my knowing, toward the very place on that ridge where her ashes were scattered, a tranquil place where her soul found a deep peace.

Reiki does not operate on our schedule. It does not care for tidy arrivals or downloaded maps. It cares for alignment. It cares for the moment when the right people are in the right place, open enough to receive what has long been waiting.

I didn't go looking for her. But I believe, with my whole heart, that she helped me find my way.

And I am so deeply grateful that I followed the nudge.

 
If Dean's work resonates with you, I warmly invite you to visit and offer your support. Join The Badger Coffee Club - a small recurring donation of $5 per week to Path of the Horse — a simple, accessible gesture framed around community care and Klaudia's legacy.

Less than a coffee and makes a lasting impact. To support the amazing work they do as a charity check out their website at Path of the Horse website. Donate now at www.pathofthehorse.com.au/donate

Lainey Bowler is a Reiki Master Teacher and certified Equine & Animal Reiki practitioner based in Ballarat, Victoria, offering onsite and remote sessions for animals and their human companions.

📧 [email protected] | 📞 0425 778 292