How the Forest Helped Name My Practice

When I first considered becoming a forest therapy guide, I knew I would eventually face the task of naming my practice. My first experience with forest bathing took place on the island of Oʻahu with two friends, where my guide’s website was simply called Forest Bathing Hawaiʻi.

While most of my own walks would happen close to home in the Santa Ynez Valley, I travel often and felt resistant to anchoring my practice to a specific place or region. Even using Santa Barbara or California in the title felt limiting—too fixed for a practice rooted in movement, relationship, and presence.

Over the next six months, I jotted down name ideas as they came, but none felt quite right. I considered incorporating something Japanese, as a nod to the origins of shinrin-yoku, yet nothing landed with the sense of authenticity I was looking for.

Then, unexpectedly, the name arrived through experience rather than effort.

One of my closest friends visited and gifted me two beautiful bonsai—one in particular that he had been tending for over two years. The following morning, despite steady rain, we decided to go birding. We drove along an unpaved back road through a steep canyon, where the landscape eventually opened into a quiet, breathtaking stretch of oak and gray-colored sky. It was here that he suddenly let out a JOYFUL SQUEAL and insisted I pull over to the side of the road. A single oak tree had “called” to him—one he hoped to collect and eventually train as bonsai … if the tree were willing.

Indeed, it was.

This oak would be my friend’s first wild collection, a rite of passage in the bonsai and penjing community. The practice has a name: yamadori. In Japanese, yamadori means “mountain picked” or “collected from the wild,” referring to native trees gathered from nature—often shaped by wind, drought, and time—bearing the marks of survival that give them deep character and beauty.

When he spoke the word, yamadori, I felt a sudden swell of emotion. Joy, recognition, and clarity. In that moment, I realized I had finally caught the name for my practice. I shared the news with my friend. Two people. Two harvests. One wise forest.

Yamadori represents a direct relationship with nature’s artistry—trees shaped not by perfection, but by resilience. They carry living history in their curves and scars, offering an honest, wild beauty.

I often reflect on the parallels between yamadori and shinrin-yoku. As a certified forest therapy guide, I hope to invite participants into a similar practice — not of taking from the land, but of sensing, noticing, and receiving what the wild world freely offers. To collect, in an embodied way, moments of restoration, connection, presence, and authenticity. Naturally. Gently.