Forest bathing is like receiving a hug from a friend.
I love walking in nature—breathing the fresh mountain air, listening to the rhythm of ocean waves, being refreshed by waterfalls. The yellows, blues, and greens of foliage and bursts of colored flowers with pungent fragrance enrich the senses.
When my friends ask me to go for coffee, I often suggest a walk and talk instead, to clear our heads, heal our bodies, and make us strong. Usually, they join me.
More recently I explored the scientifically demonstrated benefits of Shinrin-yoku—the practice of forest bathing using our five senses. When we are near trees, we breathe in phytoncides that boost our immune system and strengthen our killer cells that fight off diseases. A friend, who is a certified guide in forest bathing, led me through the practice so I could share it with others.
On a recent trip to the jungle to celebrate my 65th birthday, I invited three women, my daughter and two friends, to more intentionally experience forest bathing.
At the river’s edge, we set our intention to connect with the forest and open ourselves to its benefits. We found a stone to hold our burdens and left it in the river so the water could wash away our troubles. A short hike along the river and tree line brought us to a swimming hole known as Mermaid’s Cave, where we swam in the cool, clear water.
Using our five senses, we engaged with the forest—grounding ourselves, our bare feet on the sand. Imagining roots growing downward and intermingling with the those below we felt our connection to the Earth and nature. We focused on our breath. Listened to our bodies. The water rippled over rocks. While the cicada’s buzzed like saws. And toucan’s clucked high in the canopy. We smelled the trees. Tasted the air and noted how if felt on our skin.
In order to experience the forest more deeply, we scrutinized foliage closely. I chose a spindly green plant with a web that glistened in the sunlight. I touched the smooth leaves and gazed at them from above and below. I examined trees, their curved trunks adjusting to the elements. And I watched basilisks, also known as Jesus Christ lizards, scoot across the water on their hind legs.
Following our time taking in the details of all that was around us, we wrote a response to our forest bathe and noted our impressions in a journal. We shared our inspirations with each other while drinking the river water (albeit filtered).
One friend shared how after she focused on her natural surroundings more than usual, she felt relaxed, like she had received a hug from a friend. Another found it was an opportunity to rest her mind from the day to day stresses of life and to simply enjoy the present moment, connecting with nature. And a third shared that when she gave herself to nature, tasting the bark flavoured water, it fully absorbed all her senses. She beheld the beauty of nature and all God's glory.
Before leaving the forest, we vocalized our thanks to nature for the time she spent with us.
On this forest bathe, I became reaffirmed in my beliefs—when I gaze at the stars, the ocean, or nature, I understand things better. My writing becomes fresh. My desire to share these beautiful natural spaces with other writers took root, was watered, and sprouted.
