The How of It
I love to dive deep into the emotional and somatic experience of Forest Therapy. Today, though, I thought it might be helpful (and trauma-informed) to share more about what to actually expect. Of course, it can sometimes be powerful to dive right into the unknown. Stepping in without much data can nudge back cognitive processing and let our body and sense-based wisdom step forward.
If you feel drawn to just diving in to Forest Therapy, maybe skip this part. For those of you who read the wikipedia entry before (or instead of) watching movies (you know who you are) - this one’s for you!
I love to dive deep into the emotional and somatic experience of Forest Therapy. Today, though, I thought it might be helpful (and trauma-informed) to share more about what to actually expect. Of course, it can sometimes be powerful to dive right into the unknown. Stepping in without much data can nudge back cognitive processing and let our body and sense-based wisdom step forward.
If you feel drawn to just diving in to Forest Therapy, maybe skip this part. For those of you who read the wikipedia entry before (or instead of) watching movies (you know who you are) - this one’s for you!
We start by gathering in a circle, and sharing names and pronouns. I go over “housekeeping” notes, and share a bit about Forest Therapy (also known as Forest Bathing or Shinrin Yoku - if you’re interested in learning more, a ton of articles are collected here).
As we settle in, I encourage people to take care of themselves, to listen to their body, and to engage with the invitations in whatever way feels right for them. This part’s really important! The point of Forest Therapy is not to follow the guide’s instructions, or to do it “right.” It’s about remembering, accessing, and honoring your body’s wisdom and needs.
Then, to truly begin, we find a comfortable spot, sitting, standing, or laying down. We slowly move through and touch into each of the senses. There’s space to feel grounded, to relax, and hopefully, to let the thinking mind ease back. We root ourselves in, too - connecting with the earth below us, and the beings that live in the underneath, and nourish every living thing aboveground. When it’s time, we slowly open our eyes, and the visual world comes back - often in a way that feels heightened, and vibrantly alive.
After, we share what we’re noticing. Folks can do this verbally, silently, with movement, with song - in whatever way works best for them. And then, we get up and move into the forest, going slow. Slowness can help bring our attention to the movement all around us. At other times - on a hike, or a forest run, in our rushing through - we may see mostly stillness. When we slow down the mind and body, we can see the dance of everything around us.
And then again, we gather and share what we’re noticing.
A few more times - I offer an invitation (notice the play of light and shadow - how do they land in your body? notice textures - what senses can “touch” textures? sit with a tree or other forest being and notice what arises; and so on). After each one, we return again to share what we’re noticing.
Sometimes during Forest Therapy, we enter a liminal, in-between place. A place between the tamed world, and the wild world. Maybe we lose track of time. Perhaps we become utterly engrossed with a waving leaf. And maybe we lean the body up against a tree, and hear them speaking inside our cells. This liminal state can feel a bit dreamy, a bit .. mythic. We’ve stepped outside, literally and figuratively - we’re altered in some way. Maybe, we’ve crossed a threshold and we’re in a realm co-created moment to moment with our Other than Human kin.
Eventually, we’ll return back over that threshold, and I do what I can to ease the way. Gathered again as a group, I offer tea, brewed just that morning from plants that asked to be included. We pass around a first cup for the forest, speaking into it whatever needs to be spoken - thanks or wonder or grief or all/none/more/different. I pour a cup of tea for everyone else, and then, we share a very basic and essential human need - snacks!
It’s a sweet way to end our time together. There’s often laughter, deep breaths, and a sigh here and there. Some shoulders have visibly dropped away from the ears, and there’s a reluctance to get up and leave our little spot (wherever that may be).
I hope you’ll join me and the forest soon, to experience it all for yourself (whatever it may be, just for you).
