make floral collages. Earlier in the week at a forest named Saneum,
I’d come upon a forest-healing program for firefighters with PTSD,
where the men were practicing partner yoga in the woods and
massaging lavender oil into each other’s forearms.
The data on the healing power of the forests kept rolling in.
Among the things the Korean researchers were finding: immune-
boosting killer T cells of women with breast cancer increased after a
two-week forest visit and stayed elevated for fourteen days; people
who exercised in nature (as opposed to the city) achieved better
fitness and were more likely to keep exercising; and unmarried
pregnant woman in the forest prenatal classes significantly reduced
their symptoms of depression and anxiety.
What’s needed now, Shin told me, is better data on individual
diseases and on the specific nature qualities that really deliver. “What
are the main factors in the forest that are most responsible for the
physiological benefits, and what types of forests are more effective?”
he asks. “And the other thing, how do we make the people more
interested? And discussing how that forest benefit can be applied in
the medical field and the insurance field.” The agency estimates that
forest healing reduces medical costs, creates new jobs and benefits
local economies.
In addition to designating dozens of official healing forests and
constructing facilities there, the Forest Agency is building an
ambitious $100 million forest healing complex adjacent to the
country’s iconic Sobaeksan National Park, complete with aquatic
center, addiction treatment center, “barefoot garden,” herb garden,
open-air decks, suspension bridge and 50 kilometers of trails. It’s
hard not to think of this as Disney meets summer camp. Because
make no mistake: as much as Koreans may yearn for meaning, they
are pragmatists. The nature renaissance here is largely about
consumerism, albeit a medical consumerism. The forest
developments are public-private partnerships, where real estate and