Satoyama Zone
By now you’ve probably heard the term “forest bathing.” The term comes from the Japanese word “shinrin yoku” which refers to bathing in the forest atmosphere. It’s a healing (mentally! spiritually! physically!) practice that was “invented” in Japan in the 1980s when people were getting sick and depressed after spending too much time working inside on computers. Maybe you can relate. If you have heard about forest bathing, then I would like to introduce another Japanese term to you: Satoyama.
Sato means village and Yama means hill or mountain so satoyama is the place where the town meets the mountain. It’s at an edge. Biodiversity and innovation thrive at the edge.
This term resonates with me personally because after three years of living in the Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument, a 100,000 acre wilderness, my family and I moved into the town of Ashland, Oregon. It’s a small town that backs right up to the largest mountain in the Siskiyous, Mount Ashland. In just a few minutes, you can drive from downtown into the forest. Geographically speaking, it is a Satoyama zone.
Forest bathing happens in the Satoyama zone, where the town meets the mountain. The practice of forest bathing is not really about being in the wilderness. While going to the wilderness is important at times in our lives, like when we are lost and need a new vision or when we really need to get away from it all, it’s not an all the time thing for most of us. Living in the wilderness is an awesome experience. But it can be isolating and we’re meant to live in villages or communities where we are accountable to one another.
Forest bathing is about being in relationship with the forest. It’s a practice of reconnection on three levels: self, community, and the planet. It’s about going to the forest and then integrating any lessons from the forest back into your life.
After spending years bathing in the forest atmosphere, I’ve felt the urge to do more to help the forests. You spend enough time in the forest and you heal, but your work is not done. It’s just beginning. That’s why I’m drawn to the concept of the Satoyama zone. It is an example of how we live in a reciprocal relationship with the forest.
We humans are here to be Earth stewards; not destroyers and not passive passersby. The idea that the forest is something to visit like a museum and not interact with is some strange Western concept. And these days, we mostly don’t even go to the forest because we’re so wrapped up in everything else in our lives. A teacher of mine and an elder in my community named Hazel always says, “The forests are lonely. The forests miss us.” Hazel has a whole philosophy she calls social forestry, which is a vision for how we are meant to live in harmony with nature by taking care of the forest and using gifts from the forest to make crafts and tools (she also has a book on this topic coming out this year so keep an eye out!).
Every traditional society knew how to live with the seasons: how to eat, walk, pray, and heal with the Earth. Satoyama is part of the Japanese version of Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK).
If shinrin yoku is about going to nature as a way to heal, satoyama is about working with nature in a way that benefits both humans and the land through activities like coppicing.
During the Edo era in Japan, fallen leaves were gathered from community forests to use as fertilizers in wet rice paddy fields. Villagers would also use wood for construction, cooking, and heating.
Necessities like raincoats, sandals and thatched roofs were crafted from the post-harvest straw from cultivated rice fields. Any remaining straw could be given to livestock as feed or returned to the earth as fertilizer. Today we call this “zero waste.”
This type of land management or stewarding benefits both biodiversity and human livelihood. It’s not a new idea. This is just how things were before settlers came to the West. Go back far enough and this is how all of our ancestors lived.
For a long time, each community had a unique culture that emerged from the local way of life, which in turn emerged from the landscape. But with the postwar changes to lifestyle and culture, the woods got quieter and Satoyama became rarer. Those with the deep traditional knowledge of the way of Satoyama are aging. At a time when Satoyama are held up as needed examples of how to have a sustainable society, this way of life is in danger of disappearing completely.
That’s how it is around the world. Traditional Ecological Knowledge is disappearing just when we need it the most. But all is not lost. If we start trying to do our part, the Earth will teach us how to be good stewards. Our intuition will sharpen. People will come into our lives to teach us. We can remember because the instructions are written on the Land.
Here in Southern Oregon, Satoyama or social forestry is important for fire prevention and management. After the old growth forests were cut down over the past century, a younger forest has grown in and for the most part, this young forest has not been managed. The trees are all the same age. These forests depend on fire for proper management but these days, in lieu of prescribed burnings, we have wildfires.
Proper care of these forest mountains will allow us to live in balance. We can’t do this work alone so coming together as a community is important. That’s what the forest tells me.