The therapeutic power of Forest Bathing What if nature were the cure we need?

I have never loved the outdoors. Insects buzzing around you like vultures, the sun beating down until even your thoughts start to sweat, endless walks through forests that always look the same, just to reach a gnarled trunk or a solitary oak tree. Maybe it’s the fault of the fairy tales we grew up with, where the forest was filled with ravenous wolves ready to devour Little Red Riding Hood, or those horror films where the protagonists inevitably end up being chased through the trees by some creature ready to tear them to pieces. And yet, life always finds a way to crack our certainties. That’s what happened when I read the biography of Julia “Butterfly” Hill, the activist who lived for over two years in an ancient Californian redwood, renamed “Luna,” to defend it from reckless deforestation. It was 1997, she was only 23, yet she stayed up there until 1999, facing wind, rain, and frost, in a radical act of resistance. Her extreme choice left me with a question: perhaps the forest really does hold a language we’ve forgotten? And what if it isn’t a hostile place, but a living organism that breathes, welcomes, and, if you let it, changes you? Is there an invisible connection, a thread linking us, the trees, the wind, and everything that breathes? The Japanese believe so, and for years they have trusted in the healing power of forest bathing.

What is forest bathing

The term Forest Bathing, literally “bath in the forest,” was born in Japan in the 1980s, when the Ministry of Forests coined the expression Shinrin-yoku to encourage citizens to care for their health by immersing themselves in the natural environment. It wasn’t meant as a poetic invitation, but as a genuine public health policy, designed to counter the growing levels of stress, burnout, and illnesses linked to urban life. In a country where 80% of the population lives in metropolitan areas, the idea of retreating into greenery was more than a suggestion. It was a necessity. The concept is as simple as it is revolutionary: abandon digital devices, take your time, let your senses guide you. It isn’t trekking, extreme sports, or tourism. It’s presence. It’s walking without haste, breathing deeply, letting your senses become a compass. Trees release aromatic substances into the air called phytoncides, natural antibiotics that protect them from parasites and fungi. When we breathe them in, our body responds: the immune system strengthens, the heartbeat slows, the mind lightens. There’s no need to reach a summit or log a record on a fitness tracker. It’s enough to stop, watch how the light filters through the branches, listen to the crunch of leaves under your feet, notice the silence that is never really silence, but a subtle symphony of life.

The benefits of forest therapy

The beauty of forest bathing is not just a poetic impression, but a scientific fact. As early as the 1990s, Dr. Qing Li of the Nippon Medical School in Tokyo showed that spending three days and two nights in a forest significantly increased the activity of natural killer cells, which are essential in fighting viruses and tumors. A 2009 study published in the International Journal of Immunopathology and Pharmacology confirmed that the beneficial effects lasted up to a month after the experience. Other studies, such as those from Chiba University, demonstrated a measurable reduction in cortisol levels, heart rate, and blood pressure in people exposed to the forest compared to those who spent the same time in the city. In Italy, researcher Federica Zabini of CNR-IBE (Institute for BioEconomy of the National Research Council) clarified that forest therapy is an even more structured practice: it’s not enough to go for a walk, certified trails and guided activities are needed to ensure measurable and reproducible effects. It is no coincidence that the Italian Association of Forest Medicine (AIMeF), founded in 2018, is carrying out studies and scientific protocols to establish this discipline as true preventive medicine. In other words, the forest is not an accessory. It is a cure, a natural laboratory that works directly on our body and mind.

A bridge between cultures: from Shinrin-yoku to Friluftsliv

If Japan has turned Shinrin-yoku into a form of social medicine, Northern Europe has long had a similar concept: Friluftsliv, meaning “open-air life.” The term was popularized by poet Henrik Ibsen in the 19th century, when he described the spiritual value of retreating to remote places to regain balance and peace. For Norwegians and Swedes, spending time outdoors is not a pastime but a philosophy of life. This cultural similarity reminds us that, despite geographic differences, there is a common thread uniting attentive societies: the recognition that contact with nature is as necessary as food or sleep. It isn’t about unplugging for a few hours, but about rediscovering the habitat we biologically belong to. Forest bathing, in this sense, is a bridge between worlds that brings Japanese contemplation and Nordic pragmatism into dialogue, inviting us, too, to rediscover that it’s not enough to breathe oxygen, you must breathe green.

Where to practice forest bathing in Italy

In Europe, and especially in Italy, forest medicine is still less widespread than in Japan. However, in recent years, initiatives have emerged to fill this gap. AIMeF has launched pioneering studies, demonstrating how forest bathing can have a concrete, measurable impact on health. At the same time, the WWF has introduced the Le Oasi del Respiro project, which aims not only to conserve green areas but also to promote people’s well-being through reconnection experiences. Some Italian oases, such as the Cratere degli Astroni in Naples, the Gole del Sagittario in Abruzzo, and the Oasi dei Ghirardi in Emilia, have already been certified as ideal sites for practicing forest bathing. But the beating heart of this new awareness lies in Trentino, in the Parco del Respiro of Fai della Paganella. Here, the concentration of beech, spruce, and Scots pine makes the air a true natural elixir, rich in monoterpenes and phytoncides. It is an open-air laboratory, so much so that the park has become an international research center and a European reference point for the practice of forest bathing.

Sport Hotel Panorama: a total experience

If the Parco del Respiro is the heart, the Sport Hotel Panorama is the soul. Located at the foot of the Dolomites, this resort has made Forest Bathing an integrated part of the guest experience. Each week, guests can join guided walks with experts who don’t just point out trails but help people feel the forest. More than simple nature tourism, it is a wellness journey. The resort combines the practice with yoga sessions, walking meditation, and breathing techniques, amplifying the therapeutic effects of the substances released by trees. It also features the Bioenergetic Garden, a unique space where plants have been chosen for their ability to interact energetically with the human body. It is an example of how contact with nature can be designed, nurtured, and enhanced without losing authenticity. The experience at Sport Hotel Panorama shows that forest bathing is not just an Eastern ritual or a scientific curiosity. It is a concrete possibility for regeneration, a journey that begins with breath and translates into health, balance, and awareness.

The forest as natural medicine

Forest bathing is not a trendy wellness fad but a return to ancient wisdom, now confirmed by modern research. The forest is a silent ally, offering us physical and mental benefits without asking for anything in return. Henry David Thoreau knew this too, when, back in 1854, in his Walden, he wrote, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.” Today we know that his intuition was also scientific, because air rich in phytoncides lowers cortisol, green landscapes improve attention, and the quiet soundscape of the forest regulates the nervous system. No need for days of isolation or extreme gestures. Even a short walk in an urban park can reduce stress and improve mood. The forest is, in every respect, a form of natural medicine. There’s no prescription to fill, just an invitation to slow down, breathe, and listen. Because perhaps, sometimes, well-being isn’t found in a cream or an expensive treatment, but in the silence of a path that has been waiting for us for centuries.