Rooted in Presence: Forest Therapy for the Mind, Body and Spirit

When was the last time you allowed yourself to be truly still in nature?

I don’t mean snapping a photo of a mountain or sunset. I don’t mean multitasking with headphones in while walking the dog. I mean, when was the last time you sat with the wind, listened to its quiet song, and let it tell you something you didn’t know you needed to hear? When did you last sit in the company of trees, long enough to remember what the earth has always known: that you belong?

In our world of constant motion, noise, and distraction, simply being present with the natural world is not just healing—it’s holy. It brings us back to the truth that we are not separate from nature, but deeply woven into its fabric. We are not the centerpiece of the web of life, but threads among many, existing alongside every rock, bird, and stream.

Today, I want to introduce you to a practice that honors this sacred connection: forest therapy.



What is Forest Bathing?
To understand forest therapy, we must first begin with forest bathing, known in Japan as shinrin-yoku.

Forest bathing is a self-directed, mindful practice of immersing oneself in the forest and absorbing its atmosphere through all the senses. It emerged in Japan in the 1980s, as a public health response to a rise in stress-related illnesses tied to modern, sedentary life. Unlike hiking or exercising, forest bathing isn’t about reaching a destination or achieving fitness goals. It’s about slowing down, noticing, breathing, and being. Simply being.

Decades ago, the Japanese government sponsored scientific studies that confirmed what spiritual traditions have always known: time in nature is good for us. Not metaphorically, but literally.

Trees release natural compounds called phytoncides, which are invisible antimicrobial oils that help protect the forest from disease. When we walk among trees and breathe in these compounds, they enter our bodies and begin to heal us. They reduce cortisol (our stress hormone), slow the heart rate, and boost the immune system by increasing natural killer cells, which are special white blood cells that fight infection and even prevent abnormal cell growth. The forest is not just a peaceful setting; it is biologically and spiritually designed to restore us.



What is Forest Therapy?
Forest therapy builds upon forest bathing, deepening it into a guided, ceremonial experience led by a trained forest therapy guide (I am one, taught by the Association of Nature and Forest Therapy!). In this practice, the guide offers sensory-based invitations (or meditations), such as walking slowly, touching bark, watching the wind move through leaves, or listening to birdsong, as ways to deepen presence and connection. Additionally, most sessions end with a sharing circle and tea ceremony, where tea made from foraged plants is offered to participants. The first cup is poured on the ground as an offering of thanksgiving —  to the land, to the forest, and to the sacred presence within it.

But the heart of forest therapy is reciprocity. It’s not only about what the forest gives to us, but what we offer in return: attention, gratitude, reverence, and care. This is what sets it apart from a casual walk in the woods and even from forest bathing. In forest therapy, nature serves as the therapist. The guide simply opens the doorway to the encounter. The trees, rocks, waters, plants, and animals are not seen as scenery or resources -- they are companions. Each with their own wisdom. Each with their own voice. Each with their own dignity and inherent worth. Their own reason to be.



If forest bathing is an act of self-care, forest therapy is an act of soul-care. It invites us to remember something ancient: that we are in kinship with all of life, and that healing ultimately comes through relationship.

For these reasons, forest therapy can even be done indoors. One does not need direct access to the woods to experience the healing elements and opportunities for reciprocity with nature.


Nature as Healer in Spiritual Traditions
This idea - that the natural world heals - is not new. It is deeply embedded in spiritual traditions across the world.

In Buddhism, the Buddha reached enlightenment while meditating beneath a Bodhi tree. Nature is not just a backdrop but a mirror: reflecting impermanence, peace, and interconnection.

In Indigenous traditions, nature is alive and sacred. From the smallest caterpillar to the grandest elephant, from the quietest stream to the mightiest river, and from the tiniest pebble to an entire landmass, natural beings are things to be exploited or romanticized, but relatives to be honored. Healing comes from restoring balance within oneself and the natural world.

In the Abrahamic faiths, nature is the work of God’s hands as a place for retreat, revelation, and renewal. In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus prayed in the wilderness. In Exodus, Moses encountered God in a burning bush. In Psalm 98:8, the “rivers clap for joy” as an active participant in worship of the Divine.

In Shinto, the Indigenous religion of Japan, nature is not just revered -- it is holy. Forests, rivers, mountains, and even particular stones are believed to be inhabited by kami, divine spirits. These spirits are not distant deities, but expressions of the sacred in the natural world. To walk through a forest in Shinto is to walk through a temple without walls. Many Shinto shrines are nestled within groves of trees, and the torii gate, the bright red structure marking the entrance, signifies the passage from the ordinary to the sacred. In fact, forest therapy, due to its connections with Japan, is deeply inspired by Shinto values. Its emphasis on presence, reverence, and reciprocity reflects a spiritual posture that honors the earth as sacred and alive.


How I Use Forest Therapy
As a therapist and forest therapy guide, I often take clients into the woods or other natural places, especially those who are grieving, living with trauma, or seeking a sense of wholeness. The forest is the therapist, whereas the opportunity for transformative healing through a series of invitations.

I’ve seen people moved to tears through experiences once ordinary and commonplace made profound. One person felt heard for the first time by time with a gray rock. Another described the sound of a stream as a lullaby her soul had longed for. Recently, a person told me he never realized there are “worlds within worlds” as he gazed for ten minutes at patch of grass only one foot wide, taking in the various plant species, the bugs scuttling about, and the many textures.

In these moments, I am not the healer. Nature is. I am simply a guide, just someone who opens the door to a sacred encounter.

Why Engage in Forest Therapy?
Because we forget.

We forget that we are not machines. We forget that rest is sacred. We forget that the Divine speaks not only through scripture, but through wind in the trees, the hush of snowfall, the turning of seasons, and the stillness of a pond. We forget wisdom can be found in stone, the most ancient of all beings, something which has seen life and death from before humankind existed.

Forest therapy calls us back, not only to nature, but to ourselves and to the Presence that waits patiently for us there. It reminds us that healing doesn’t always come through words. Sometimes, it comes through silence, connection, and awe.

So I ask you again:

When was the last time you let yourself be still in nature?

Maybe going forward, perhaps sometime this week, you’ll walk a little slower. You’ll touch a tree, listen for the wind, or notice how the light plays across a leaf. And maybe, in that quiet, you’ll remember that you are part of this earth — and the earth, in turn, holds you.


Invitation (Meditation)
For now, hold the being from nature you brought with you today. Gaze upon it. Let it speak to you. Let your hand rest on it or hold it in your palm. Allow your body to relax. Let your breath slow.

Close your eyes or soften your gaze.

Notice the weight of the being in your hands. Its temperature. Its texture. No judgment, just notice.

Now imagine how old or young this may be. Perhaps it has witnessed more than you can comprehend; perhaps it knows something about endurance, patience, and silence. Or perhaps it is in its infancy, knowing the importance of curiosity and being free-spirited.

Ask the being silently:
“What do you know that I don’t know?”
“What do you know that I’ve forgotten?”
“What do I need to remember?”

And now wait.

There may be no words. The wisdom may be nonverbal, and instead a memory, a sensation, or just a feeling.

The being is not rushed. It is not thinking. It simply is.

Breathe with it. Breathe into it.

Let your heart be still.

And when you are ready, you may thank thank the forest for what it has offered you today.