If an individual can develop a meaningful relationship with a forest independently, and if even relatively passive exposure to natural environments may influence physiological processes associated with well-being, why would anyone need a guided experince in the first place?

Before attempting to answer this question, I think we need to reconsider a familiar expression frequently used in forest bathing/ Shinrin-Yoku/forest therapy : engaging the senses.

We often describe guided sessions as opportunities to engage our senses, as though sensory engagement were something that begins when someone invites us to listen to the birds, observe the trees, or become aware of the air touching our skin. But strictly speaking, our sensory systems are already engaged. We perceive and respond to our surroundings continuously, including during activities in which we are not consciously attending to particular sensory experiences.

Our bodies respond to light, temperature, sound, movement, pressure, and other environmental conditions. The nervous system continuously processes information from both outside and inside the body. Beyond the traditionally recognised five senses, human sensory experience includes proprioception, interoception, vestibular perception, and other processes that contribute to our awareness of bodily states and our relationship with the environment.

Therefore, it may be more accurate to say that a Guide invites participants to direct, broaden, or refine their attention toward particular aspects of sensory experience, rather than engaging senses that were previously inactive.

Yet even this distinction deserves questioning. Must we consciously attend to an environmental stimulus for it to influence our physiological state? A person does not need to deliberately notice every sound in a forest for auditory information to be processed, just as they do not need to consciously attend to every change in temperature for their body to respond to it. The influence of the environment is not necessarily dependent on the intention to perceive it.

We should therefore distinguish between sensory reception, conscious attention, and the meaning attributed to an experience. These are related processes, but they are not identical. A person may hear birdsong without deliberately focusing on it, may consciously attend to the sound without feeling a particular emotional response, or may associate the same sound with a meaningful memory. A guide may influence attention and create opportunities for reflection, but the guide does not initiate the biological processes of perception.

Perhaps the more meaningful question is not how a guide helps people use their senses, but how guidance might influence the relationship between perception, attention, emotional response, and personal meaning.

And this leads us to a much more important question: why might some individuals benefit from support in developing a relationship with nature while others appear to do so quite naturally?

Nature Connectedness Is Not the Same for Everyone

In my book Your Guide to Becoming a Forest Therapy Guide (Guziak, 2026), and in my article Why We Need Forest Therapy Guides, published in the Shinrin-Yoku Journal, I explore the need for guides in the context of human relationships with natural environments and the changing conditions of contemporary life.

One way I approach this question in Shinrin-Yoku education is through what I describe as a spectrum of nature-connectedness, or conversely, a spectrum of nature-disconnectedness. Human beings do not all experience their relationship with nature in the same way. Some individuals feel a strong emotional affinity with natural environments and experience belonging, familiarity, or comfort when spending time outdoors. Others may feel indifferent, uncertain, uncomfortable, or even fearful. Between these experiences lies a broad range of individual relationships, shaped by personal history, culture, environmental conditions, opportunities for contact, and individual preferences.

However, describing nature connectedness as a spectrum should not suggest that people can be arranged along a simple hierarchy from disconnected to connected, or that one person possesses a more valuable relationship with nature than another. It is a conceptual way of acknowledging variation rather than a claim that all human–nature relationships can be reduced to a single measurable dimension.

Research in environmental psychology supports the understanding that nature connectedness differs across individuals. Lengieza and Swim (2021), in their review of the antecedents of connectedness to nature, examined situational influences, individual differences, and psychological processes associated with the development of connectedness. Their review demonstrates that the relationship is complex and cannot be adequately explained by exposure alone.

This distinction is important. Being physically present in nature and feeling connected to nature are not necessarily the same experience.

Someone may spend considerable time in a forest without experiencing a strong emotional relationship with it. Another person may feel deeply connected to the natural world despite having relatively limited opportunities to visit forests or other natural environments.

Does frequent exposure create connectedness, or does an existing sense of connectedness encourage people to seek more frequent exposure? Might both processes reinforce one another? And could someone who rarely visits a forest nevertheless have a profound sense of belonging to nature through memories, cultural traditions, gardening, or experiences with animals and plants?

If nature connectedness is not simply a consequence of physical proximity, we need to examine what makes a natural environment personally meaningful.

This question becomes particularly relevant when considering individuals who have spent most of their lives in highly urbanised environments. Someone raised in a densely populated city may have had relatively few opportunities to explore forests, learn about local ecosystems, or experience natural landscapes without the presence of roads, buildings, and other forms of human infrastructure.

Yet we should be careful not to assume that growing up in a city necessarily produces nature disconnection. Urban environments contain their own forms of nature, including trees, gardens, birds, insects, and seasonal changes. People may develop deeply meaningful relationships with these environments, even without ever entering a forest.

The issue, therefore, is not simply whether someone was born in a city or a rural area. It concerns the kinds of relationships, opportunities, experiences, and meanings that have developed throughout their life.

For some individuals, entering a forest may feel familiar and welcoming. For others, the same environment may seem unpredictable or uncomfortable. A person might not know which paths are safe, whether particular animals pose risks, how to respond to unfamiliar sounds, or what to do when there is no obvious activity to undertake.

What one person experiences as a peaceful environment may be experienced by another as a place of uncertainty.

Does the difference lie within the forest, the individual, or the relationship between their previous experiences and the present environment?

And could a guide help someone approach an unfamiliar environment with greater confidence, without implying that the person is somehow deficient in their ability to connect with nature?

Perhaps a Guide Is a Companion Rather Than a Source of Connection

If we recognise that individuals arrive with different histories and relationships with nature, the role of the guide begins to look somewhat different.

A guide may not be necessary because nature requires interpretation, because our senses need to be activated, or because an unguided encounter is inherently incomplete. Rather, guidance may be valuable because some individuals benefit from support in approaching an environment that they have not previously experienced as familiar, comfortable, accessible, or personally meaningful.

In such circumstances, a  Guide may serve as a temporary bridge between the person and the natural environment.

This possibility is supported by research examining the pathways through which nature connectedness may develop. Lumber, Richardson, and Sheffield (2017) investigated the roles of contact, emotion, meaning, compassion, and beauty in fostering nature connectedness. Their research included an experimental walking activity designed around these pathways. Participants undertaking the pathway-based activities showed greater increases in nature connectedness than those walking in nature without the same structured activities.

These findings are interesting because they suggest that the quality of an encounter may influence the development of nature connectedness. Yet they do not establish that everyone requires formal guidance or that the same activities will be equally effective for all individuals.

A person who already experiences a strong relationship with nature may encounter beauty, meaning, compassion, and emotional connection independently. Another person may benefit from an invitation that encourages them to notice an aspect of the environment they might otherwise have passed without much consideration.

But even here, we must question whether the guide is creating connectedness or merely introducing opportunities for a relationship that the participant develops through their own experience.

Can connectedness actually be given to someone? Can a guide make another person feel a sense of belonging to a forest? Or can a guide only provide conditions in which such feelings may arise?

I would suggest that a guide cannot manufacture a relationship between a person and nature. The guide may offer invitations, establish a supportive atmosphere, and create opportunities for exploration, but the meaning and quality of the experience remain with the participant.

And perhaps this is precisely what makes guiding different from directing.

The purpose is not to tell someone what they should experience, but to support the possibility of an experience unfolding.

Nature Connectedness and Access to Nature Are Different Questions

There is another dimension to this discussion that deserves equal attention. Not everyone who feels connected to nature can easily access it.

An individual may have a profound emotional relationship with forests but face considerable physical, geographical, financial, or social barriers to spending time in them. Mobility limitations, chronic health conditions, age-related changes, limited transportation, unsafe environments, insufficient accessible infrastructure, and economic circumstances may all influence opportunities for nature engagement.

We should not confuse an individual’s level of nature connectedness with their practical ability to enter or move through a natural environment.

Consider someone who has spent much of their life in forests but, because of changes in mobility, can no longer comfortably walk along uneven woodland paths. Has that person’s connection to nature diminished? Not necessarily. Their emotional relationship with the forest may remain as strong as ever, even though the ways in which they can physically engage with it have changed.

Similarly, a person with limited vision or hearing may experience the forest through different combinations of sensory information. This does not make their encounter less meaningful or imply that their relationship with nature is incomplete.

If we assume that time in nature requires walking through a forest, visually observing its features, or responding to a standard sequence of sensory invitations, might we unintentionally exclude people whose bodies interact/react/response with the environment differently?

And if the purpose of nature-based interventions is to make engagement with natural environments more accessible, should accessibility be understood as an additional accommodation, or as a fundamental principle in the design of the experience itself?

Research has examined these questions. Zhang and colleagues (2017), in a systematic review of nature access for people with mobility impairments, identified both physical barriers and less visible interpersonal and psychological obstacles. Their findings suggest that simply providing a natural environment does not guarantee that individuals can meaningfully access or benefit from it.

More recently, McEwan and colleagues (2023) investigated virtual forest bathing programmes designed with and for adults experiencing mobility impairments or low energy. Their qualitative findings identified experiences involving nature connection, relaxation, agency, belonging, and social support. The study does not demonstrate that virtual experiences are equivalent to physical forest exposure, but it does challenge the assumption that meaningful nature engagement must always involve travelling to and moving through a forest.

These findings lead us to another question: Does the role of a Guide sometimes involve helping individuals discover forms of nature engagement that are appropriate to their particular circumstances, rather than asking them to adapt to a predetermined model of forest experience?

A seated session in an accessible garden, an experience organised around a small urban green space, or a carefully adapted programme for participants with physical limitations may provide opportunities for engagement that a conventional forest walk cannot.

We should therefore question the tendency to associate the quality of a nature-based experience with the distance travelled, the size of the forest, or the physical demands of the activity.

Perhaps greater physical immersion does not necessarily mean greater emotional connectedness. And perhaps a small, familiar natural place can hold more personal meaning for someone than an extensive forest they have never visited before.

What Kind of Support Is Actually Needed?

When we consider both nature connectedness and access, it becomes apparent that different participants may benefit from very different forms of support.

Someone who feels unfamiliar with nature but has few practical barriers to access may benefit from reassurance, opportunities for exploration, and a carefully facilitated introduction. Someone who already feels strongly connected to nature but experiences physical limitations may benefit more from accessible routes, appropriate seating, flexible pacing, or alternative locations than from additional invitations to notice their surroundings.

Another participant may not wish to develop a deeper relationship with nature at all. They may simply be curious about Shinrin-Yoku, interested in spending time outdoors with others, or seeking an enjoyable experience.

Should a guide assume that every participant wants or needs to become more connected to nature? And should increased nature connectedness always be considered the desired outcome of a session?

These questions are important because they challenge a potentially paternalistic approach to guiding. If we assume that participants arrive disconnected and that our responsibility is to reconnect them, we may overlook the relationships they already possess. We may also fail to recognise that a person’s engagement with nature can be meaningful without following the particular interpretation of connectedness that informs our programme.

Nature connectedness is not a deficiency that professionals must automatically correct.

The participant is not an incomplete individual waiting for a guide to establish a relationship on their behalf.

A guide may instead begin with curiosity about the participant’s existing experiences, expectations, preferences, and needs. Such an approach recognises that meaningful engagement may take many forms and that individuals have different reasons for participating.

It also asks something important of the guide: the ability to distinguish between support that is genuinely needed and support that is introduced merely because it forms part of a familiar method.

At the Shinrin Yoku Association, this understanding is reflected in our ethical emphasis on inclusivity, accessibility, individual autonomy, safety, and respect for participants’ different abilities and experiences. The responsibility of the guide is not only to deliver activities, but to consider who is participating, what conditions may support their engagement, and where the guide’s own competence and professional responsibilities begin and end.

Yet we should also question the limits of what an individual guide can achieve. A guide may adapt a session, but cannot independently resolve the wider inequalities that restrict access to green space. The absence of accessible paths, reliable transport, safe public environments, or affordable opportunities for participation cannot be addressed through sensory invitations alone.

If nature connectedness is shaped partly by opportunities to engage with natural environments, then increasing access is not simply an individual educational task. It is also a matter of social inclusion, environmental planning, and public responsibility.

Perhaps we need guides, but we also need environments in which people can access nature without requiring a guide.

Is the Ultimate Purpose of a Guide to Become Unnecessary?

This brings us to a question I find particularly meaningful to consider.

If a person initially benefits from guided nature experience because they are unfamiliar with natural environments, what happens as their confidence, familiarity, and personal relationship with nature develop?

Perhaps the individual begins visiting the forest independently. Perhaps they discover that they enjoy spending time beside a particular tree or in a nearby park. Perhaps they become more attentive to seasonal changes, develop curiosity about local ecosystems, or simply begin to feel more comfortable outdoors.

These possibilities do not require us to suggest that the person’s senses have somehow become more active. Rather, the person’s relationship with what they perceive may have changed. Their attention, expectations, emotions, knowledge, and sense of familiarity may gradually evolve through repeated experiences.

Yet we should not assume that such changes will occur for everyone. Some individuals may continue to prefer guided experiences because they value the social environment, the structure, the accessibility support, or the shared reflection. Others may prefer solitude from the beginning and never feel a need for professional facilitation.

Neither preference should be considered evidence of a more or less developed relationship with nature.

Perhaps the success of a guide should not be measured by how many participants continue to depend on guided sessions, but partly by how effectively the guide supports individuals in developing forms of engagement that are meaningful and accessible to them.

Would it be possible to evaluate guided Shinrin-Yoku not only through immediate physiological or psychological outcomes, but also through changes in confidence, independent nature engagement, accessibility, familiarity, and the participant’s sense of autonomy?

Could a participant’s decision to return to nature independently be an important outcome, even when no formal practice or protocol is continued?

And might the most meaningful contribution of a guide sometimes be something that is no longer visible once the guided session has ended?

I think these questions invite us to reconsider why forest therapy guides exist.

We do not need a guide because human beings have forgotten how to perceive the world through their senses. Nor do we need one because the therapeutic potential of a forest is unavailable without professional intervention.

We may need guides because human beings differ in their relationships with nature, in their opportunities to access it, in their familiarity with natural environments, and in the kinds of support that make particular experiences possible.

A guide may introduce, accompany, reassure, adapt, facilitate, and create opportunities for reflection. But the guide should not claim ownership of the relationship that develops between the participant and the natural world.

Perhaps the role of the guide is not to bring nature closer to people as though nature were inherently distant. It is to recognise the different circumstances that shape people’s opportunities to experience it and, where appropriate, help reduce the distance created by those circumstances. Or all of the above.

There is, however, one final question worth considering.

If we acknowledge that meaningful nature connectedness can develop independently, and that some individuals possess a profound relationship with nature without ever participating in a guided session, should we continue asking why everyone needs a guide?

Or would it be more appropriate to ask:

Who might benefit from guidance, under what circumstances, and what forms of guidance genuinely support their freedom to develop a relationship with nature on their own terms?

Perhaps that is where a more ethical and inclusive understanding of Shinrin-Yoku guiding begins.

References

Guziak, M. A. (2026). Why we need forest therapy guides. Shinrin-Yoku Journal. https://doi.org/10.65410/syjI3202601en

Guziak, M. A. (2026). Spending time in the forest: Modalities of engagement, connection, and care. Shinrin-Yoku Journal. https://doi.org/10.65410/syjI3202602-EN-2

Guziak, M. A. (2026). Guided forest therapy session as a pathway to nature connection. In Your guide to becoming a forest therapy guide: A practical and reflective companion for guiding Shinrin-Yoku, forest bathing, and forest therapy sessions. Mi Publishing. ISBN 978-83-68042-40-5.

Lengieza, M. L., & Swim, J. K. (2021). The paths to connectedness: A review of the antecedents of connectedness to nature. Frontiers in Psychology, 12, 763231. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2021.763231

Lumber, R., Richardson, M., & Sheffield, D. (2017). Beyond knowing nature: Contact, emotion, compassion, meaning, and beauty are pathways to nature connection. PLOS ONE, 12(5), e0177186. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0177186

McEwan, K., Krogh, K. S., Dunlop, K., Khan, M., & Krogh, A. (2023). Virtual forest bathing programming as experienced by disabled adults with mobility impairments and/or low energy: A qualitative study. Forests, 14(5), 1033. https://doi.org/10.3390/f14051033

Zhang, G., Poulsen, D. V., Lygum, V. L., Corazon, S. S., Gramkow, M. C., & Stigsdotter, U. K. (2017). Health-promoting nature access for people with mobility impairments: A systematic review. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 14(7), 703. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph14070703

Shinrin Yoku Association. Code of Ethical Conduct & Guidelines. https://shinrin-yoku-association.com/code-of-conduct-and-guidelines/