A Walk in the Woods
The Japanese have a concept called ‘shirin-yoku’ or ‘forest bathing’, a practice of immersing your senses in a forest atmosphere (usually by going for a walk in the woods) to promote health and well-being. Taking a forest bath definitely helps to cleanse a person of the grime and grumpiness of the city. There are a few forests that fit the bill within a short drive from my home, so come along with me. The drive will give you a sense of what is about to occur. When we begin, brick and concrete and steel and glass will whiz by your window. But slowly, you’ll notice that buildings and cars are replaced with fields and stands of trees, and the traffic will subside. The colour of the world will seem to shift from grey and black to a kaleidoscope of green, inviting and soothing, and your eyes will feel less tired already.
When you step out of the car, we’ll still be in the parking lot, so there will still be the noise of cars, the smell of asphalt, the humourless painted yellow lines that keep everything in check. There may be a few people around, some with dogs, some with children. But as we make our way down the smaller of the two trails, the one that traces the edge of a lake and skirts the boundary of the forest, you’ll find a sort of calm settle over you like a blanket. The air will be scented with pine and poplar, and in the company of stately trunks and fallen stumps, you’ll start to feel right-sized: not too big, and not too small. You might notice your shoulders relax, and your breathing slow as we move deeper into the woods, where the trees and their canopies cast shadows, but don’t worry - it won’t feel frightening. That lowered light is a kind of respite from the glare and heat of the sun, or a protective barrier that slows the wind as it passes through, turning it into a gentle, teasing breeze.
The forest floor is kind. The earth beneath your feet is soft and spongy, made even more forgiving by the blanket of drying pine needles and carpets of moss. You’ll find that your pace will slow as you take in the shades and tints around you: genteel greens, deep rust, and loamy black, aging to brown. The woods are alive, with light and colour and the music of a forest - birds and insects, trilling their daily tunes, the crackle of twigs underfoot, the rustle and shiver of leaves dancing in the wind. And yet you’ll find yourself growing still, quiet. We won’t need to talk at all to know the woods are working their magic.
The trail is a long one - it loops around the lake, and then jogs back on itself a ways, until we arrive back where we started. On the surface, it might seem that we’ve gone in circles, going nowhere in a big hurry - but that’s not true at all, is it? We’ve gone somewhere peaceful, restorative, invigorating and gentle, and we haven’t hurried a single moment of it. We’ve had our forest bath and come out clean, refreshed, clear-eyed on the other side. You’ll come with me again, won’t you?
Jennifer