Of all the things I’m privileged with, one of my favourites is being able to go on nighttime Shinrin-yoku walks in the hilltop park behind my house. Armed only with a flashlight I walk the darkened hallways of swaying trees, listening to arpeggios played upon their upper branches.
I walk by myself but I’m not alone, I’m here with each fir and oak, with the forest understory with its many tiny insect and bird kingdoms, and I’m with the morphing clouds that race across the sky, ambered by the city that spills its way towards this hilltop redoubt. I listen to the song the wind is singing and I look at the scimitar pureness of a new moon. I give thanks for a moment of standing on a rocky outcrop at the edge of a city watching its lights and the sky overhead, feeling the wind surge around me and feeling at peace.