Forest Therapy, also known as “Shinrin-yoku,” refers to the practice of spending time in forested areas for the purpose of enhancing health, wellness, and happiness. The practice follows the general principle that it is beneficial to spend time bathing in the atmosphere of the forest. The Japanese words translate into English as “Forest Bathing.”

(A website)

(A tool)

(A tool)

What might a forest say to a satellite — or to us? Perhaps its communication is more ambient and affective than semantic. Earlier this year, amidst the long, dark days of the pandemic winter, I happened upon a sound archive, tree.fm, that combines photographs and audio recordings to allow you to view and listen to forests around the world; the site’s tagline is “listen to a random forest.” I tweeted about it, and other cabin-feverish folks seemed appreciative. “I’m so starved for other places, this almost made me cry,” was one response. Another responder did cry, at least in emoji. Yet my caption, quoting the tagline, seemed to mislead and even frustrate commenters from the tech world. Apparently, they were expecting to encounter an algorithm and were disappointed to be immersed instead in the rustling leaves of Atatürk Arboretum, in Istanbul, or the birdsong of Bitza Nature Park, in Moscow, or the rushing water of a coastal forest, in Ibiza. Here the randomness wasn’t about parallel computational processing; rather, it was about a kind of grounded sublimity, a sensation of poetic disorientation as one forest after another materialized onscreen.

The popularity of hiking surged during the pandemic. For centuries forests have redeemed us humans. Now we must reciprocate that redemption.

May 9, 2021 from 16:03–16:04 at McGolrick Park, Brooklyn, New York

Ambient radio for rest, calm, or focus.