Can’t see the forest for the trees? Try bathing in it!

“ Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting
So much as just finding the gold.
It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,
It’s the forests where silence has lease;
It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.”
Robert Service, The Spell of the Yukon

Yet another pandemic impact: Louis, the youngest son, has moved back home. He left his life in the big city (Montreal) to join us in the country.

Thus far it’s been a pretty seamless transition. The once brooding teenager has grown into a helpful (charming?) adult who spontaneously fetches a drink and clears away dirty dishes – who’d a thunk it?

“This represents quite a change for you. How are you finding life up here? In this isolation?” Sue asks him.

“I’m not bored of it yet,” Louis replies with an urban smirk. “In fact, this is an ideal setting for Shinrin-yoku,” he adds sipping from his matcha latte while cutting the crusts from his avocado toast. “The pandemic has thrown us all for a loop and added an additional layer of stress. Shinrin-yoku is a way to lower the pressure – let off some steam – infuse with love and compassion – enhance our immune systems.”

“Shinrin-yoku?” I ask.

“Loosely translated from the Japanese, it means forest bathing – to immerse yourself in the woods,” explains the boy.

“We walk in the forest every day,” I protest.

“It’s not a walk in the woods,” he says. “It’s more like some mindful time spent under the thicket of trees for the purposes of improved well-being.”

“Thicket? WTF?” Sue whispers in my ear.

“Well, in our neck of the woods we’re blessed with plenty of… woods. I’m game to try it,” I exclaim.

The four of us (Sue, me, Louis, and Ruby the basket case dog) pack up and head off to the forest trails.

We’re off to a rough start.

Even in our desire to connect with nature – we’re rushed getting out the door. Sue has a conference call and I have yet another Zoom meeting to get to – so we have to be back within the hour.

“Let’s get a move on! This forest bathing better not take all day!” I grumble.

“You two need to change your stance if this is going to have any benefit,” says Louis. “One can live life by a strict set of rules, yet not trust others enough to share the rulebook. The forest doesn’t know or care if it’s breaking your rules.”

“So now you’ve become my therapist, Doctor Louis?” I ask.

“Not exactly. The forest is the therapist – I’m just here to open the door,” he replies.

We enter the forest and it is beautiful and calming – for a minute.

Sue reaches for her phone – checks the time. “We’re okay,” she reassures me.

Not one to trust, I take mine out of my pocket. Our phone clocks are indeed synchronized. I see what text messages and emails have arrived in the last 90 seconds… and then take a photo.

“You shouldn’t have brought your phones. Try strolling aimlessly and slowly,” says the boy.

“Aimlessly? That’s why he’s good at this,” I mumble to Sue.

“Let your instincts guide you. Listen to where they want to take you. It doesn’t really matter if you don’t get anywhere because we’ve got nowhere to go. Take in the odours, sounds, and sights. Let the forest come to you,” he adds.

“Now David New Age Attenborough is narrating our forest walk?” asks Sue.

Slapping at bugs, and thinking of my next appointments, I subconsciously increase my pace.

“Try to be here, not there,” Louis encourages. “Use all your senses. Studies have compared the effects of walking in the city to taking a forest walk. Both activities required the same amount of physical activity, but researchers found that the forest environment leads to reductions in blood pressure and stress hormones. But not if you rush through it.”

At that moment, Sue panics. “Where’s Ruby!?” she cries, turning her head in each direction and squinting through the dense bush. She is convinced a fisher has dropped from a tree branch upon her beloved hound.

Louis looks down.

“Ruby’s at your feet,” he says.

And, apart from Louis the Zen Master, we realize that Ruby is the only one who really gets this forest bathing. 

She spots a squirrel and follows – with her stubby legs – there is absolutely no risk of violence. She tilts her head at the tap-tapping of a woodpecker. Ruby positions her nose to the ground and is transfixed by some delicious smell – she pursues it and a moment later is gleefully rolling in a carcass. She rises from her blissful gyrations, shakes her head and tail, and looks up at us with pure love and compassion in her eyes.

The smile on her snout says it all.

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