Bathing in the Forest

 Bathing in the Forest

森林浴  - “The term Shinrin-yoku (taking in the forest atmosphere or forest bathing) was coined by the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries in 1982. It can be defined as making contact with and taking in the atmosphere of the forest: a process intended to improve an individual’s state of mental and physical relaxation. Shinrin-yoku is considered to be the most widespread activity associated with forest and human health.” — Park BJ, Tsunetsugu Y, Kasetani T, Kagawa T & Miyazaki Y (2010, The physiological effects of Shinrin-yoku (taking in the forest atmosphere or forest bathing): evidence from field experiments in 24 forests across Japan, Environmental Health and Preventive Medicine, 15:1 (18-26), doi: 10.1007/s12199-009-0086-9)

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.” 

― Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings (first published 1854) (1981, New York: Bantam Classics, ISBN: 0-553-21246-X, pp. 172-173)

I have always loved this quote, part of which was featured prominently in the movie Dead Poets Society (1989, Peter Weir). Thoreau had much more commitment and dedication to the idea expressed than do I, but today I deliberately went into the forest to search out its peace, its wisdom and its silence. How perfect a morning it was for such an adventure! It was warm but not so hot as to be a distraction. The sun was shining, but yet low enough in the sky that the shadows amongst the trees projected sharp contrasts, and it was dry enough that one need not worry about slipping on the wet leaves that line the forest floor.

After assurances that I meant no harm, I sought permission to enter and walk the forest from the dryads, nymphs, Fair Folk and other creatures that might be found amongst the trees, and, no sooner had I spoken than I found an oak leaf caught between my toes. I took this as a token that I might have leave to wander freely with my canine companion. Asking for prayers from St. Seraphim of Sarov (known to have befriended a bear), and St. Francis of Assis (not Orthodox, but also known for his love of animals) we entered the forest. How glorious it was! All of creation seemed to reach up to its Creator in praise and thanksgiving!  The trunks stretched high, and then the branches reached even higher, seeking if they could to reach to the heavens; and the light of the sun gleaming  golden on their green leaves gave them a brilliance that was breathtaking.

There is a stillness to the forest, occasionally breached but not broken by birdsong, the rustling of leaves from the breeze and the crackling of sticks from the scurrying of various woodland creatures. And yet, the pervading sense is one of silence and reverence. It is a watchful silence. I was acutely aware of being observed, a stranger, though an invited visitor not an invader. And now and again, I saw fleeting glimpses of the shy forest denizens. At times, the Fair Folk have the appearance of a tree stump, and at times the tree stumps have the appearance of elves. Who can tell? A movement glimpsed in the corner of one’s eye. A figure standing tall in the distance, obscured in part by the leaves and branches, and then gone as one approaches the spot.

There is a wisdom amongst the trees. Trees communicate with each other, and it has been found that the strongest, most vibrant forests are those with many different kinds of trees that each contribute to the whole and all of which communicate with each through deep in their roots (Intelligent Trees, 2016, Dir. Julia Dordel & Guido Tölke). 

“I thought all the trees were whispering to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language; and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien (First published 1954) (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, 1990, London: Harper Collins, ISBN: 0-261-10235-4, p. 153-154)

But how can I put into words the entirety of the sights, smells, sounds and atmosphere that so refreshed my soul and my body? The vocabulary eludes me. To quote C.S. Lewis from The Cosmic Trilogy: “‘Of course I realise it’s all rather too vague for you to put into words’, when he took me up rather sharply, for such a patient man, by saying “On the contrary, it is words that are vague. The reason why the thing can’t be expressed is that it’s too definite for language.” (First published 1943) (1989, London: Pan Books, ISBN: 0-330-31374-6, p. 171)

Let it suffice to say that Blue and I had an awe-filled mindful walk in the woods today, and that our session of 森林浴 was quite productive, and I departed refreshed, cleansed and at peace. As we left the forest, I thanked its guardians and returned the oak leaf which had been my token of safe passage.