Nestled in the northwest tip of Manhattan are 196 thriving acres of natural forest. Protected, preserved and maintained by the city of New York, Inwood Hill Park has served as a centuries-old respite to the hustle and bustle of social artifice that moves the underpinnings of New York City. Steeped in a history that is reflective of this particular city and by large our nation’s climb towards modernity, one can feel the weight of several bygone eras while walking through Inwood Hill Park’s green corridors. An ethereal dialogue embedded in this forest’s ancient growth takes place in the spaces between the past and present. This spirit permeates the area and leaves its mark on all who enter – transforming those within who absorb the ongoing conversation both perceptively and innocently. In this way, Forest Bathing in Inwood Hill Park (and urban parks in general) is unique and when practiced regularly can create a transcendent experience for tired city souls who seek to be drenched in its quiet emotional intelligence.
Inwood Hill Park is where I and many other city folks go to remember our roots by reconnecting with nature. This park is the only natural wood on the island of Manhattan. Unlike the monolithic man-made wonder of Central Park, Inwood Hill Park has an uncultivated energy that is irrefutably felt the moment it comes into view. The feeling is different from Central Park for within Inwood’s awnings of green exist time capsules of indigenous history. It has been recounted that Manhattan was purchased from the Lenape by the Dutch in 1626 for a matter of bartered goods worth 60 guilders. This purchase was said to have been made in Inwood Hill Park. Local Lenape tribe members have explained that no indigenous cultures inhabited the forest that is now Inwood Hill Park during that time period. The Lenape would visit to gather food but did not live in the forest. Whether this piece of history is accurate or not, it is a claiming of land that is worth thinking about. “Claiming land” has destroyed original communities and has deeply wounded our collective consciousness. The repercussions of colonialism have disconnected people from each other and from the natural world. We must not overlook that forests and woodland areas hold many historical memories as part of their landscape. You are walking through that jubilant or painful past. You are also absorbing those conversations. I keep a respectful stance while walking in a forest for it is a living entity and I am a visitor.
We have to believe that the relationship between people can be healed by the natural world. We have seen that as a stark example during the pandemic and America’s recent social awakening of great magnitude. Many have relied on nature as a tonic for sickness and as an acquaintance from isolation, confusion and loneliness. It has reminded us that being alone and being lonely are very different. We are always alone as we journey through life. To learn to be alone is to love yourself. That individual power can spark change. We are only lonely by perspective. If you are comfortable with being alone, then being lonely is not a detrimental factor. Nature is teaching us again to have gratitude for life, gratitude for self and to reset and look at reality with a clear mind and open heart. We are again beginning to reacquaint ourselves with each other in order to heal from trauma and sickness. Due to the isolating effects of the pandemic, it is with an emphasis on the natural world that must be, this time, the key. Enter, please, shinrin-yoku.
The term “forest bathing” is a direct translation from Japanese for shinrin-yoku. According to the National Center for Biotechnology Information or NCBI; “The term Shinrin- yoku was coined by the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries in 1982, and can be defined as making contact with and taking in the atmosphere of the forest.” Since this time, research has been on-going in Japan, and in other countries of the world, to discover the health benefits of forest bathing and the findings have been great.
In reporting the outcomes of the Japanese Ministry’s research, NCBI states: “The results show that forest environments promote lower concentrations of cortisol, lower pulse rate, lower blood pressure, greater parasympathetic nerve activity, and lower sympathetic nerve activity than do city environments. These results will contribute to the development of a research field dedicated to forest medicine, which may be used as a strategy for preventive medicine.” Here they use the term “forest medicine” as a preventative. This “forest medicine” is essential for people who live in an urban environment. Especially with the COVID-19 pandemic, city folk have flocked to green spaces for sanctuary. I think it is important to note that most who reside in a city do not have access to a natural forest such as Inwood Hill Park. If you do not, you can still engage in this enriching practice by seeking out a green space that you are most drawn to and develop a routine that allows you to absorb the nature you are in. Or seek out the closest forest to you and find dedication in the time you spend in getting there.
Shinrin-Yoku is a private communion, a self- discovery. Even when surrounded by people, you are still alone on your own path subjectively experiencing the natural world around you. Any person who has walked or spent a considerable amount of time in nature, I feel, could say they practice shinrin-yoku. After learning about this tradition several years ago, I realized like many woodland walkers that I had been practicing this art for almost a lifetime without having known it. All of the many years that I had been walking in the woods, I was in essence forest bathing. I do not think that I am fully aware of how these years of consistent communication with my forest has seeped into my emotional being, affecting every thought I have and action I take. Mystery and awe can be found while walking through the woods, and this awe will make its imprint on your soul.
Forest Bathing does not have a set of rules to follow other than to create and allow a space for healing, a connection to the woods, and a solace individual for you. I do, though, loosely observe my own set of pointers and guides in a pace that I have found works for me. Over the years, I have refined it to my liking and occasionally mix it up. I do not speak, except for the occasional nod to others I meet. I walk in flat thin-soled shoes so I can feel the earth beneath me. I breathe slowly and deeply, each time focusing on and taking note of what I smell. Which trees perfume the air when the wind blows or the fragrances that hang in the mist after a rainfall. I will stop along the path I am walking on to look closely at twigs, branches, leaves, fruit on the vine, bark, grass and soil. I absorb their shape, variations of color and the sounds they make. I look up at the sky and clouds and deeply then through the spaces in between trees. I have found that these sensory pictures have become etched in my memory. The smell of the woods, the sound of different birds singing and the feel of the elements on my skin are all very important factors to forest bathing. They help one to absorb nature’s deep ethereal wisdom. The more I see and feel and smell of the forest, the stronger a memory it becomes.
“From time to time during your forest bathing experience, take a moment to notice what you are noticing.”*
—M. Amos Clifford
Every quarter of a mile, I will stop and look back on my path. For me, this is another important aspect of shinrin-yoku because it helps me to see where I have walked, while also giving me a different perspective on how I have traveled (how far and what has changed behind me). It also keeps me aware of my surroundings. I stand and take in everything: the weather, my feelings, my heart beating, my aching feet, emotional pain, sadness, chapters of old memories – then I let all of it meld into one and concentrate on breathing. I find as I am walking slowly and methodically, my breath will line up with the rhythm of my feet. Soon I forget myself and I just am, in the moment –every moment. It is a personal revelation. This place is where I have found healing and forgiveness of myself and of others. There is a softening and an opening of the self after learning how to slow down and absorb without thinking. This does not come immediately but over time with practice and it is the reason why, to me, urban shinrin-yoku is important. For city-dwellers who get used to fast, fast, fast – this slow conscious breathing, walking, and absorbing acts like a sieve for all of the hurried pent-up energy and superficial fodder that creeps into every crevice of life.
If you make a mindful effort to devote time to nature, then you will find that – lots of money is not important, time passing is no longer important, competition with others, your bills, your work, sicknesses, debts, fights, egos. These things are not significant during your walk. You need nothing but the wind, your senses and your body moving you through towards quiet meditation. Forgetting yourself and your problems is a main point to shinrin-yoku. It allows for healthy separation between you and your existing stresses. I find that this temporary forgetting and intense focus on breathing with the natural world help to remove me from my troubles. When you leave your walk, you will be better equipped to address the stress in daily life and deeper unconscious pains, simply by having removed yourself from them for a time. The more you practice, the easier this becomes. Moving through pain and upset to the point where they become lessons instead of hurt is humbling, a sign that you care about yourself and more broadly about the natural world and your place in it. When you’ve reached the point where only your senses are fully engaged and supersede thinking, is to me, the moment the height of forest bathing has been achieved. You no longer want or need; you just are – walking as one with the breathing forest. You are the forest.
There is a final essential element to my shinrin-yoku practice, which is walking in the same woods and over the same paths conscientiously. This discipline adds to the depth of this art and what has truly made a difference for me over a period of time and dedication. I have found the main benefit of walking the same paths in my forest is that images, sounds, and smells of the familiarity of my woods will pop into my head throughout the day when I need support from whatever situation I find myself in. When you walk the same paths for months or years you will find all sorts of acquaintances. Like good friends, you see the same trees and know when one has felled, you will see the same forest creatures and they will all know you, too, you will come to learn where a cross breeze can be found and how birds hunt, preen and roost. Symbiosis is the key and becomes stronger with years of your presence. This synergy will live in you as you walk through your day and come to aid you in times of difficulty. It has for me. Because I have walked the same paths for many years, my mind can easily conjure the memory of my forest to use as a space holder or as a time out away from myself and the circumstances at hand. The familiarity of seeing the same forest for years seeps into the soul and mind and your body becomes a part of the landscape, the paths and the woods. So much so, that it will appear every time you call for it. With practice, if you can make a conscious effort to offer yourself to nature in this way, the reward is great. You become the woods and it will walk with you in every instance of your life.
To learn more, visit the Association of Nature and Forest Therapy at www.anft.earth