My Path to Shinrin Yoku: A Personal Story of Forest Bathing

The World Was Listening

I grew up in Central Europe under a grandmother who spoke to the world as if it were listening back. She treated the trees as if they wore quiet faces, pointed to the treetops when the wind brushed the leaves, and spoke openly of fae, elves, gnomes, pixies, and the many spirits of nature that nurtured the forests around us. Every breeze, every fern felt alive, and that reverence etched itself into my bones.

From Grandmother’s Woods to Vancouver Island

When I became a mother and moved to Vancouver Island in 2015, our home opened onto mountains and forests—cedars, pines, hemlocks, cypress, arbutus, spruce, maples. I began taking my children into the forest almost from the start. The moment we stepped from open fields into the shade of tall trunks, my body began to shift. I moved, slowly, from the exhausted, adrenalized mom of three under three (twins included) to a softer, steadier self.

A Quiet Transformation

In the forest, we walked mossy paths, splashed through a gurgling stream, balanced on rocks, and breathed the scent of old trees and soil. The anger, frustration, and fatigue that clung to me loosened their grip. It was a slow exhale, a releasing of tension, a return of energy—strength, nourishment, and peace seeping in where there had been knots of stress. A quiet shift toward parasympathetic restfulness replaced the white‑knuckle warrior.

The Twins on Vancouver Island Photo by Jane Grueber

A Growing Practice, A Growing Heart

Month after month, the change endured. I began to see the trees with new curiosity, felt creativity unfurling, and found myself writing poems for children and telling stories that echoed the nature my grandmother spoke of. I gardened, learned to grow food organically, and felt a deeper kinship with the land. About a year later, while researching the benefits of soil microbes, I encountered Shinrin Yoku—forest bathing. My budding Reiki practice and my fascination with Shinto and the animistic sense that Kami—the Spirits of Nature—animate all things made the connection feel inevitable.

Shinrin Yoku: The Japanese Welcome to the Forest

Shinrin Yoku is not merely a walk in the woods. Dr. Qing Li, the physician and researcher who identified nature’s health benefits, describes it as a mindful immersion in nature—a slow, sensory communion that steadies the nerves and soothes the soul. It isn’t about distance hiked or speed traversed; it’s about the quality of attention: textures beneath the fingertips, colors in the light, the hum of life in air and earth. It is a practice of being present with the forest, allowing the environment to restore mind and body.

In this tradition, nature is not outside us but woven through our lives. Kami—the sacred presence said to inhabit trees, rivers, rocks, and winds—invite us to pause, listen, and connect. Shinrin Yoku asks us to rest into harmony, to breathe with the forest, and to find gratitude blooming in the space between heartbeat and leaf.

What the Long-Term Research Says About Nature’s Healing Power

Long-running research mirrors what forest-goers have long felt. Key notes include:

• Stress relief and mood uplift: Time in nature lowers cortisol and lightens anxiety, fatigue, and worry, while lifting mood and vitality.

• Immune system lift: Regular exposure is linked to increased natural killer (NK) cell activity, supporting the body’s ability to target abnormal cells.

• Restful sleep and daytime energy: Quiet, restorative nature time improves sleep quality and daytime alertness.

• Attention, creativity, and clarity: Nature breaks replenish focused attention and spark creative thinking.

• Cardiovascular and metabolic benefits: Forest environments can lower blood pressure and heart rate, supporting heart health and metabolic balance.

• Resilience and mood: Repeated forest visits tend to foster resilience, gentler rumination, and a broader sense of well-being.

A Daily Communion

Today, Shinrin Yoku is part of my life almost daily—whether strolling among ancient trees on Vancouver Island or gathering with the poplars, birch, and pines near my St. Albert home. The clarity, creativity, and energy I find in nature feel both simple and profound. I am grateful for the storytellers and nature-keepers who shaped me, and I am honored to guide others toward a gentler, living relationship with the world.

An Invitation

Close your eyes or soften your gaze and drift for a moment through your memories of nature. Recall a place where you felt seen by the world—the way a forest canopy whispered over you, a river’s rhythm keeping pace with your breath, or a simple patch of sun on a doorstep plant. How did that moment make you feel in your body—calm, awake, alive, held? Reflect on how your relationship with the natural world has shaped who you are today and what you long to carry forward.

Concluding Reflection 

If you stand at the edge of a forest and listen closely, you may hear the quiet arithmetic of life: breathing trees, listening winds, and your own heartbeat aligning with the rhythm of leaves. Shinrin Yoku is not an escape; it is a return—an invitation to remember that we are part of a living conversation with the earth, and that a single walk, approached with patient attention, can restore what is largely forgotten: a slow, patient belonging to the world around us.