Forest Bathing

I’ve been curious about forest bathing for a little while now. When I first noticed that The Huntington in Pasadena was offering 2-day sessions, I dragged my feet (did I really want to spend $80 to try it??) and the sessions filled up. Last month, I tried to sign up a week after seeing it mentioned in their newsletter — and I was too late. 

In the end, this month, August, was the exact right time for me to participate. I was wholeheartedly ready, feeling very inspired by the exploration I’ve been doing with the Living and Leading with Intention group, occasional volunteering with the Friends of Griffith Park, and a deepening connection with the natural world. 

I registered immediately and I was in. Woohoo! Or, perhaps Woo-Woo. Both, it would seem. But I was ready.

Last Saturday, each of us arrived at the gardens around 8 a.m. and were whisked off in small groups by golf carts to our precise meeting spot. As she drove my cart over, The Huntington’s head of programming shared that these sessions are among her favorites and praised our forest bathing guide, Debra. 

As we gathered in the beautiful and serene Chinese garden, Debra shared the forest bathing origin story: it originated in Japan in the 1970s, to help repopulate urban areas and address the country’s rising suicide rate. We began the gathering with a grounding exercise that helped us connect with our bodies and activate all of our senses. Debra explained that she’d extend a few different invitations to us to explore small sections of the Chinese garden throughout the course of the morning, and then we’d regroup to share how we were feeling in our bodies. There was no rush or pressure to get to the meeting place, she’d call us with a birdsong (!!). 

Each invitation offered us time to be in and with the natural world. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was moving so slowly. I became transfixed by a petal that looked unconnected from the flowering plant it came from, but seemed to be held in place by ants that were marching inside it. When I felt the urge to move along after spending a couple of minutes looking at the carved holes on the back sides of rocks, I began ambling down the path, only to realize I didn’t need to keep looking for something serene that held my attention — I’d already found it. I turned around and moved back to the initial spot I’d found. And there was no better way to conclude than by keeping my eyes trained on a cluster of lily pads. I was watching them for a while before my eyes registered two dragonflies perched on top. 

There's a concept in forest bathing called liminality — described in an overview by the ANFT* as “a time outside of normal time, in which the possibility of healing and growth is enhanced.” Two core beliefs: the guide doesn’t provide the therapy — nature does — and the relationship between human and nature is reciprocal. 

I’m tempted to make all sorts of grand statements about my first experience of forest bathing. What I’ll say, simply, is that few things have felt so right, right away. 

I’m excited to keep reading and learning about the practice — I’ve even signed up for a webinar later this month to learn more about the ANFT’s guide training and certification program. I love the idea that the work and purpose of the guide is to help create experiences that allow people to deeply connect with nature and find the peace, clarity, and centering they may be seeking. 

*Association of Nature and Forest Therapy Guides & Programs