Forest Bathing and Sexy Donuts

Last year, I came across a rather curious ad for a class in Forest Bathing. In New Jersey.

I love nature and the outdoors, but I'm not what you would call an outdoorsy person. I can sit outside for hours, watching the clouds and following the birds as they build a nest or pull a helpless worm out of a soft patch of dirt, but you won't see me hiking a mountain or camping in a forest filled with snakes and creepy crawlies. When I was younger, yes, but not now.

Water is still my go-to for a vacation though (beach or lake, either one) and if a place says it has an outdoor shower, I book the dates, pay the deposit, and I'm all in.

When we visited the Greek islands years ago, the home where we stayed overlooked the ocean, and a narrow path took us down there every morning.

We'd spend hours, just soaking up the sunshine and listening to the sound of the waves.

A local man would often walk along the beach, carrying a gigantic wicker basket on his hip, yelling and selling his "big sexy donuts".

That's what he called them - honest! Big sexy donuts! They were big and squishy, warm and fresh, covered in fine crystals of glimmering sugar. Still one of my favorite food memories ever. But the first time we saw him we didn't get one. It just seemed too bizarre, and we were, dare I say it, probably a little uptight about giving money to a barely clad stranger yelling about sexy donuts on the beach.

But I was curious, and the next morning I made sure to bring some money down to the beach with me.

When he appeared again, I bought one. And the next day, and the next day, and the next day after that.

The basket of sexy donuts always went quickly - and they were absolute heaven!

Our donut days were slow, filled with warm, greek sunshine, good food, and lots of red wine.

Our nights would often take me back to the beach. I'd throw on a white, button-down shirt over my bathing suit, go down the narrow path, and walk along the edge of the water. It didn't matter if I was the only one there - safety was never a concern, and the hypnotic sound of the waves made me feel as if I was featuring in my own, personal Diane Keaton movie. Afterwards, I'd walk my barefoot self back up the cliff and take a shower.

For me, this was an extremely bold move, as the shower was basically a random, tall faucet on the top of the hill, with no walls between me and the bustling taverna next door. But the sky was dark, the stars were out, and the sea water was just oh-so-warm from its sunshiney day that it was just too impossible to resist. Ever since then, I've dreamed of having a bathtub or shower outside, so that I could reimagine those evenings and soak in the sights and sounds of the night sky.

So, when I saw this ad for Forest Bathing classes, of course my mind immediately went back to that moment in Greece, on top of the hill by the taverna. I could almost feel the warmth of the sea air as I lost myself in the memory of it all.

But, wait a minute, I was in rural New Jersey. What on earth did Forest Bathing mean here? Were my neighbors paying $65 dollars each to roll around in the morning dew on alternate Saturdays between 9 - 11 am, or were there public bathtubs happily living in the forest down the street?

Curiosity won, and I clicked on the link, only to find that it wasn't any of these things at all.

Forest bathing (shinrin-yoku, which I was told originated in Japan many years ago, but please correct me if I'm wrong) is a worldwide practice that encourages us to relax, disconnect from the busy world, and re-connect (and appreciate) nature, by "bathing" all the senses whilst walking slowly in the forest or a calming green space.

Of course, I think this is a wonderful idea, but I do find it a bit funny that there are paid classes, apps and programs where certified nature specialists will guide us (in person, or even remotely) on how to appreciate nature and why it is so important.

I wonder about the trend, and our need for speedy, calm solutions in this chaotic world. Is it really a solution, or just something else for us to think about and keep track of? Another app to clutter up our lives? Another distraction that hinders rather than helps? I'm not sure. Maybe. Maybe not.

For now, I think I'll save my money and skip the forest bathing class. But, if you need me, I'll be channeling my inner greek goddess in the shower, with the windows wide open, music playing, and a glass of red wine and a donut patiently waiting...