The New Yorker website recently carried a short feature on photographer Yoshinori Mizutani’s photos of shinrin-yoku, which translates to “forest bathing”.  The practice was originally promoted by the Japanese government in the 1980s, and certain studies have found it to be therapeutic to humans in various ways.  In addition to the salutary effects one might expect from escaping to nature, there is a mindfulness aspect in which one is encouraged to focus in the various sensory inputs – colors of flowers, scent of grass, sounds of birds.  The photos convey a magical sense of escape and discovery. 

In Japan one often hears about the reverence for nature among the Japanese, their love and respect for it, while in actual life observing all manner of assault on the natural environment.  The latter is by no means unique to Japan, of course, but the dissonance here between what one is told by others and by one’s own eyes can seem especially striking.  The respectfulness and attentiveness to nature is historical and indeed remains embedded in the culture at some level, especially in various arts (e.g., haiku, with references to nature embedded in the form) and refined cuisine such as kaiseki.  Practicalities have changed, however.  Traditional Japanese houses were made of wood and largely open to the outside, suggesting a kind of harmony with their surroundings.  Nowadays, people live in concrete apartment blocks that are largely eyesores. 

What is still admired, I think, is a well-organized and controlled nature.  Wild, uncontrolled nature, which in certain other parts of the world may be thought of as most “natural”, is more something to be feared.  Thus much of the coastline (with its ubiquitous Tetrapods), as well as river beds, are covered in concrete.  In a far more appealing way, the sensibility of controlled wildness is reflected in Japanese gardens, perhaps the ultimate tamed and idealized nature.