A slow immersion into the forest.

 

A slow immersion into the forest.

The call of the forest is quiet.
Rhythmic.

In the slow crack of a branch beneath your feet.
In the damp moss beside the trail.
In the scent of resin, earth and young shoots after a warm early summer rain.

Sometimes I begin to walk barefoot. Not far. Just slowly enough to feel the ground again. The coolness of the earth beneath my feet. The soft mossy floor. The rough bark of a tree trunk. Resting a hand on the wood for a moment and sensing how the tree stands there quietly between roots and branches. The soft needles of the larches. The rustling of the undergrowth.

Over time, something changes. The gaze becomes calmer. Sounds emerge that had gone unnoticed before. The forest is no longer just scenery, but a space.

In Japan, this conscious immersion into the atmosphere of the forest is called Shinrin Yoku – forest bathing. Not a sport. Not a destination. Rather a quiet form of awareness. A way of walking without needing to arrive anywhere.

Here on the upper Nonsberg Valley in South Tyrol , the forest becomes a place to slow down. Between spruce and larch trees, springs and silent paths, a feeling of openness and shelter begins to emerge. Perhaps the forest feels so healing because it asks nothing from us.

And sometimes the forest even follows us back indoors.

In a warm foot bath with spruce and larch aromas. In the herbal scents of the sauna. Or in the evening at CERVO Restaurant, where young sprouts, wild herbs, blossoms, resins and forest essences become part of the menu.

And so, a simple walk slowly becomes an experience that stays with you.
Not spectacular.
But restorative.

The call of the forest is quiet.
You simply have to learn how to listen again.