STANFORD, MONTANA. There is a Japanese phrase I adore: shinrin-yoku. Translated, it means "forest bathing," or the therapeutic act of heading into the woods. It's a concept I've explored countless times without knowing the phrase itself until recent years, but when I grow weary of the modern world—and its ability to seep into every aspect of my life—I leave the world behind.
I go to the mountains, high alpine streams, wildfire-scarred landscapes, and wherever else on public lands I can find without cell service. There are still wild places in this world to explore, and they are—for those who've never partaken—glorious. There, you can watch a sunset pierce through old-growth pines, witness the cascade of waterfalls off limestone cliffs, encounter a bear or two or three, and even find yourself some true silence: utterly deafening in its nature.
Few things bring me as much joy and peace as the woods these days. Few things can offer such respite. Yet, it had been a minute since I had the opportunity to go out myself, reflect on their beauty, partake in that silence, and bathe myself in the forests that are our nation's greatest legacy.
