Naked in the Forest?
- Stephanie
- Jul 1
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 2
“Forest bathing? So… is that like being naked in the forest or soaking in a tub under the trees?” I get asked this all the time. And honestly? It’s a fair question.
Forest bathing is a relatively new topic, modality, and idea in Northern Ontario. Not many people understand what it is, let alone what it can offer. When I first learned about it, I remember saying, “Oh, I love nature, but you’ll never catch me hugging a tree. That’s a little over the top.”
Fast forward two years, and after completing my guide certification with the Association of Nature and Forest Therapy, some of my best friends are trees. I have always loved nature. Nature has always inspired me. Nature has welcomed me in good times and in bad. It’s always been there for me. What I didn’t realize until recently is just how much I had taken it for granted.
In spending more time with myself in nature, I learned to listen, see, and experience things - life differently. And the best part? I fell in love with it again. I remembered all of the gifts nature provides.
I. hug. trees.
What I’ve learned about trees is that they are great supports. They don’t judge. They're good listeners and they carry a lot of wisdom. We just need to stop… and listen.
I remember once, I was having a really hard time. It was one of those days when everything felt heavy. I was on my daily walk in the trails through my property, just trying to get some air, and to clear my head. I wasn’t really expecting anything. But that day, I felt called to a particular maple tree. I didn’t even realize it existed until then. It just… called to me.
I sat with it.
I didn’t have a plan. I just leaned back against the trunk, let myself be still. And then, something shifted. I let go. I cried… I mean really cried. Not a gentle weep. A flat-out ugly, honest release. I didn’t even realize how much I was holding in until that moment. It was time. I needed to let go, and the tree knew. It held me, not just physically, but energetically. It created space for me to just be. No pressure, no judgment. Just space.
That was the first time I truly understood the power of nature.
I walked out of the forest that day thinking, “Okay. Now I get it.”
It didn’t happen overnight. My connection with nature in this way took time. I had to immerse myself in it more than once before I could fully trust it, before I could let it work its quiet, beautiful magic. But now that I have? I could never go back.
It’s not a feeling I can easily describe. But I’ll try.
You know the feeling of fully surrendering? That deep trust that somehow, everything will be okay? That connection with something outside yourself that’s so powerful, it feels like home? That deep knowing… that comfort… that acceptance?
That’s what it feels like.
There’s an energy that Mother Earth carries and she shares it openly with anyone who’s willing to receive it. I feel it as an energetic embrace when I walk through the forest. A stillness. A knowing. An acceptance that doesn’t ask anything of me, except respect.
That’s what forest bathing is.
It’s not about being naked in the forest (though hey, no judgment). It’s about being seen by nature. It’s about being held, supported, and reconnected with something far greater than ourselves.
What Is Forest Bathing?
Forest bathing, or Shinrin-yoku, is the practice of intentionally slowing down and immersing yourself in nature through your senses. It’s not hiking. It’s not power walking. It’s simply… being. Remember my experience with the maple tree... I listened, showed up and let it nurture my presence.
Being with the sound of the wind in the trees. Being with the way sunlight filters through leaves. Being with the feel of moss under your fingers, or the scent of pine in the air. These moments of sensory connection are deeply healing, and they happen naturally when we stop trying to do and just allow ourselves to notice. Notice all the things outside of us, but also all the things inside of us because there is always a lot going on...
Where It Comes From
The term Shinrin-yoku was coined in Japan in the 1980s, when doctors and scientists began encouraging people to visit forests as a way to manage stress and improve overall well-being. The evidence was compelling. Studies showed that people who spent quiet, mindful time in nature experienced lower levels of cortisol (the stress hormone), reduced blood pressure, improved sleep, enhanced mood, and even a stronger immune response.
But let’s be honest, nature has always known how to care for us.
And the practice isn't new... Long before research studies and medical journals, Indigenous cultures around the world lived in deep, reciprocal relationship with the natural world. They didn’t need a study to tell them that the land heals. They already knew. Forest bathing is a return to what our bodies and spirits have always understood.
Why It Matters So Much More Today
We live in a culture of go. Go faster, do more, keep up. There’s always something; work, kids, errands, that thing you forgot to do yesterday. It never really stops. And rest? That usually ends up at the bottom of the list, if it even makes the list at all. Stillness can feel uncomfortable, or even guilty, like we’re being lazy or wasting time. For some, it turns into rumination and facing things they don't really want to face - so it becomes easier and less painful to keep busy.
But the truth is, our bodies weren’t built for this kind of constant pressure. Eventually, we start to feel it, tired all the time, anxious for no reason, snapping at people we love, or just feeling like we’re hanging on by a thread.
We’re more disconnected than ever. Disconnected from the land, from each other, and honestly, from ourselves. And when you’ve been stuck in that cycle for long enough, it’s hard to even know what you need. You just know you’re exhausted, and something has to change.
That’s where forest bathing comes in.
It’s stepping into nature and letting yourself breathe, really breathe, for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s being reminded that you’re part of something bigger, that you don’t have to hold it all together all the time.
I’ve seen it happen over and over. People show up to a session burnt out, unsure of what they’re doing there, thinking they don’t have time for this. And then… something shifts. Maybe it’s a moment of stillness under the trees. Maybe it’s the sound of the wind or the light through the leaves. But something softens. They start to let go. Breathe. Be.
It’s not magic, but it kind of feels like it.
Nature holds us in a way we don’t even realize we’ve been needing. It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t rush us. It just gently reminds us: you’re okay. You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to come home to yourself.
And honestly, most of us need that more than we know.
What Happens in a Forest Bathing Session?
Let's get clear on something. You don't need a guide to engage in forest bathing. What you need is a commitment to yourself. 10-20 minutes a day, spent outside in a sit spot or walking mindfully.
However, what a trained guide like me can offer, is a deeper connection, more time to settle into nature through gentle prompts and guidance. If you’ve never tried forest bathing, it might feel a little uncertain at first. That’s okay. You’re not expected to “get it” or do it right. I mean, there is not right or wrong way...
Here’s what a typical session with me might look like:
A sensory guided meditation to activate your present moment awareness
A slow, guided walk through a natural area (typically less than 1 km)
Gentle “invitations” to engage with your senses—what do you notice? hear? feel?
Time to simply sit or lie down and let the forest come to you
A quiet, optional sharing circles to reflect and connect (no pressure to speak)
The forest or natural setting does the heavy lifting. I’m just there to help you slow down enough to receive it.
Whether you come alone or with a group, these sessions are designed to be deeply grounding, accessible, and welcoming. There’s no judgment, no agenda, no right way to be.
Nature doesn’t ask anything of you. It just welcomes you back. Quietly. Patiently. Steadily.
If you’re curious about experiencing this gentle, healing practice, I’d love to guide you. This is how we reclaim ourselves, one breath, one step, one moment, and one invitation at a time.
Perfectly Imperfect,
S
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