I had heard the term forest bathing before, and if you had asked me whether I had ever done it, I probably would have said yes. Then I went to a retreat recently where forest bathing was one of the experiences offered and, thinking I was signing up for a good hike, I did. What I realized is that I had absolutely not done it before. Not like this.
Our guide was awesome at explaining what we were doing and why we were doing it. And although I’ve hiked through plenty of forests in my lifetime, this time was very different.
Hiking is one of my favorite forms of joyful movement. Give me a trail, trees, some elevation and nature itself, and I’m happy. Throw in a lake or babbling stream and I’m on another planet. I have always appreciated being in the forest, but usually I was still hiking. I was moving forward, following the trail, covering some distance and maybe noticing the scenery along the way.
This time, I wasn’t simply walking through the forest. We were paying attention to all of it. And somehow the ordinary became extraordinary.
The Difference Was Attention
At the retreat, the forest wasn’t the backdrop for the hike. The forest was the experience.
I noticed the trees differently. I touched them. I felt their energy and consciously gave them some of mine. I noticed the slugs and bugs, the birds, the buzzing bees, the woodpecker pecking, the flowers and ferns, and the berries along the trail. There were rickety bridges with water flowing underneath them, rustling in the bushes and a dam built by a beaver. I never actually saw the beaver, but I certainly saw the result of her work. Who knows? Maybe that was her rustling in the bushes.
I noticed the breeze and the mist in the air. The patches of shade and the places where the sun broke through. The rocks under my feet. The uphill and the downhill. The trail itself, the steps, the textures, the smells and the sounds. All of it became part of the experience.
There were also times when we simply stopped. We stood quietly and listened to what was around us or waited to see what might show up when we weren’t busy moving through the landscape. On one of those pauses, at least 20 monarch butterflies—maybe more—seemed to appear out of nowhere, almost on cue. Maybe they had been there all along and we finally became still enough to notice them. None of it was filler between Point A and Point B. And that, I think, is what finally helped me understand forest bathing.
The Japanese term shinrin-yoku is generally translated as “forest bathing.” And while there’s no bathtub involved, you really are bathing in something: the forest itself. It’s an immersion in the atmosphere of the forest, even if only for an hour or two. The term emerged in Japan in the 1980s, and walking can certainly be part of the practice, but covering miles isn’t the objective. The idea is to slow down enough to experience what’s around you through your senses. Research on forest bathing has since explored what happens physiologically when people do exactly that—walk, sit, look and spend time immersed in a forest environment.
Apparently, slowing down enough to notice all of this may be doing more than giving us a lovely afternoon and a workout.
Your Body Notices the Forest Too
Trees release naturally occurring airborne compounds called phytoncides as part of their own defense system. When we breathe them in, research suggests these compounds may influence immune activity, including certain white blood cells that help the body identify and respond to infected or abnormal cells. The immune research is still developing, but it raises an interesting possibility: the scent of the forest may be doing more than simply smelling good.
That made one part of our forest bathing experience especially interesting to me. At several points, we took slow, deep breaths, intentionally noticing what we could smell in the air around us. The trees, the damp earth, the plants, the sweet scent of nearby flowers and even the coolness of the air became more noticeable when I wasn’t just moving through it. I had no idea at the time that breathing in the forest might actually be part of what makes spending time there beneficial.
The evidence around stress is even more compelling. Research comparing forest environments with non-forest environments has found reductions in cortisol, one of the hormones involved in our stress response. Forest exposure has also been associated with lower blood pressure and pulse rate. These aren’t claims that the forest cures stress or hypertension; they’re measurable signs that our bodies can respond differently to time spent among trees.
Sound was a big part of the experience too. When I hike, of course I hear birds. But there’s a difference between hearing birds while you’re walking and intentionally listening to them. The water moving beneath the bridges and the breeze moving through the trees caught my attention too. When you’re quiet enough, you realize the forest isn’t quiet at all.
More Than Green Scenery
Trees are also working while we’re admiring them. Vegetation can help capture some airborne pollutants, provide shade and affect the temperature and air around us. The forest isn’t just something beautiful to look at. It’s a living environment that we physically interact with while we’re in it.
And perhaps that’s something humans instinctively understand. Long before gyms, treadmills, phones, traffic and offices existed, people lived in a much closer relationship with the natural world. We watched it, listened to it, smelled it, touched it and depended on it. We had to notice what was happening around us. Maybe some part of us still remembers how to do that.
Joyful Movement, With Something Added
I talk a lot about joyful movement, and hiking definitely checks that box for me. I love climbing, exploring, being outside and seeing where a trail takes me. But forest bathing added another layer. Instead of thinking about how far we were going or what was around the next bend, I was experiencing what was in front of me right where I was.
The tree under my hand mattered. The bird I could hear but couldn’t see mattered. The slug crossing the trail mattered. The mist mattered. Even the uneven rocks and rickety bridges became part of the experience rather than something to get past on the way to wherever we were going.
The movement felt different because I was more completely in my body while I was doing it. I find the science behind what happens physiologically when we spend time in forests fascinating, but science doesn’t have to explain every second of what I experienced for the experience to matter. I can’t measure what I felt when I put my hand on a tree and paid attention to the exchange of energy between us, but I can tell you that slowing down enough to do it changed how I experienced that tree, that forest and myself within it. There is something important about that distinction.
I Want Back In
Since the retreat, I’ve found myself wanting to get back into the forest. Not simply because I want another hike. I can hike almost anywhere. I want the trees, the sounds, the smell of the earth, the filtered light, the damp air and whatever is rustling around in those bushes that I may or may not want to meet personally. I want to practice paying attention again.
That feels particularly relevant to everything I have learned about listening to the body. We tend to think body awareness means turning inward—recognizing hunger, fatigue, tension, energy, emotion or the signals that something isn’t right. But maybe listening to the body also means noticing how it responds to the world we place it in.
What happens to your breathing when you enter the trees? What happens to your shoulders? Your thoughts? Your pace? Do you feel yourself settling? Becoming curious? Do you start noticing things you would have walked right past before?
That kind of awareness is at the heart of The Awakened Body. The body is constantly responding—to food, movement, sleep, stress, people and our surroundings. The more attention we give those responses, the more we learn about what actually supports us.
If you find yourself overloaded by life and having a hard time getting out of your head, forest bathing may be worth trying. You can look for a guided forest bathing experience like the one I did at the retreat, or you can simply head into the forest and try it yourself. The difference isn’t necessarily where you go or how many miles you cover. It’s how you experience the time you spend there.
We talk a lot about protecting our forests because of what they provide for the planet and the ecosystems that depend on them. But maybe we need to remember that we are part of that ecosystem. Protecting these places isn’t only about what we can do for the forest. Spending time among the trees is a pretty good reminder of what the forest may be doing for us.
So before winter comes, find a forest. Walk a little, stop, listen, breathe, touch a tree and pay attention. You might be surprised by what you notice when the experience stops being about how many miles you covered, what hills you conquered or simply moving through the forest.