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Does Touching Grass Actually Help Your Mental Health? Why "Nature Bathing" Is On The Rise

If your feed has recently shifted from trashy nepo baby Eurotrip to hot crunchy-looking people sitting in the woods and looking suspiciously peaceful, you’re not alone. This summer, everyone’s abandoning their group chats, muting Slack, and sprinting into the wilderness like it’s a competitive sport. Enter: nature bathing: the latest travel trend taking over Pinterest, your FYP, and possibly your seasonal depression. Bless. 

According to the 2025 Pinterest Summer Trend Report, searches for “relaxing in nature” are up 32%, with Gen Z leading the charge. But they’re not just hiking or glamping, y’all, they’re posting up in nature parks, mountains, and countryside Airbnbs with limited WiFi and 100% all-natural, curated calm. Throw in the rise of “book retreats,” “scenic hiking,” and “aesthetic outdoor escapes,” and it’s clear: this summer is about slowing down and touching some actual grass (instead of just smoking it).

It’s all part of a growing movement toward digital detoxing and mindful travel, which, yes, sounds like a Goop initiative until you realize how deeply you might actually need it. Because, hi! We’re burnt out. We’re overstimulated. We’re one “per my last email” away from absolutely losing it. And suddenly, the idea of going fully off-grid (but like, cute off-grid) feels weirdly appealing.

So WTF actually is nature bathing? Why is everyone doing it? And is it just another way to justify lying in a field and calling it self-care? Let’s unpack our homemade granola and discuss.

Okay, But What Is Nature Bathing?

Despite branding that feels very spa-treatment-your-hippy-aunt-would-book-on-a-retirement-cruise, nature bathing is actually just… being outside. On purpose. With no agenda, no Instagram story updates (more on this later), and ideally, no WiFi.

The term comes from the Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku, which translates to “forest bathing.” And no, that doesn’t mean you’re skinny dipping in a stream. It’s simply about immersing yourself in nature and not doing anything. At all. Just straight up existing in it. Breathing. Wandering. Letting your nervous system chill TF out for one goddamn second.

Of course, Gen Z has taken the concept and made it ~aesthetic.~ Today’s nature bathing involves linen pants, claw clips, emotional support paperbacks, and the kind of calm, glazed-over expression usually reserved for people on mushrooms. It’s walking slowly through a forest with a tote bag and no destination. It’s pretending a pinecone is your therapist (before telling your actual therapist about it, ofc). It’s silence. Curated, romanticized, deeply necessary silence.

There are no fitness goals, no itinerary, no five-mile loop to post on Strava. It’s the anti-activity activity. You’re not supposed to track it or prove it or even talk about it. You just go outside, shut up, and let the trees do their thing. So TL;DR? If you’ve ever cried while sitting on a mossy rock and thought, waitam I healing? Congrats. You’ve already been nature bathing.

Why Is Everyone Suddenly Doing This?

Because we’re all tired. Like, spiritually, emotionally, and probably iron-deficiently.

Nature bathing isn’t just some crunchy little fad. It’s a full-blown reaction to the chaos of existing in 2025. While yes, millennials have been on board since memes about “being outdoorsy in the way I like sitting on a porch and drinking” circled the internet, Gen Z in particular is done with the endless scrolling, the performative wellness routines, and the dopamine burnout. Instead, they’re running toward the nearest forest preserve with a protein bar, praying nature will fix what late-stage capitalism broke.

And while the vibes may look serene, the motivation is pretty loud: we want out. Out of the noise. Out of the group chat. Out of the habit of being “on” all the time. Nature bathing says, You don’t have to hustle for healing. You can just sit down, babe.

Also? It’s cheap. It’s easy. And if you’re even slightly hot and own a pair of linen pants, it’s basically free content. So fucking duh it’s trending. That’s because it’s one of the few trends that actually gives you something back and doesn’t cost your whole paycheck. Food for thought!

Is This Just Romanticized Sitting Outside?

Yes. And that’s kind of the point.

Nature bathing is literally just sitting outside and calling it something fancy. But unlike other trends that make you buy a $400 water bottle and rearrange your gut biome, this one asks nothing of you except to shut up, log off, and let a tree emotionally regulate you.

Of course, we can’t just do that. We also have to document it. Cue the softly filtered Instagram posts: “off the grid for a few days” (posted via LTE). The pastel TikTok montages: hiking boots, wind-blown hair, a paperback with a leaf on it. But here’s the thing: the second you turn nature bathing into content, it kind of stops being nature bathing. Like, if you sat in a forest and didn’t post about it… did it even happen? But also! If you did post about it, did you actually do it?

It’s a paradox. But that’s because we want both. We want to heal and be perceived. We want to disconnect and get just enough signal to upload our therapist pinecone pic. And honestly? That’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect at it. You just have to show up, remember how to breathe from your diaphragm, and maybe stop doomscrolling long enough to notice that the sunlight looks kind of pretty on that rock.

In a world that’s constantly screaming for your attention, nature bathing is the equivalent of putting your mind on Do Not Disturb and letting a shrub fix your anxiety. It’s quiet. It’s slow. It’s probably good for your nervous system. And if nothing else, it’s a great excuse to tell everyone you’re off the grid while still packing SPF 50 and a perfectly curated snack bag. Just try to leave your phone inside, okay?

Rachel Varina
Formerly one of the HBICs at Total Sorority Move (RIP), Rachel Varina has a long history of writing about things that make her parents ashamed. She's an avid lover of holding grudges, sitting down, and buffalo chicken dip. Currently, she lives in Tampa, Florida, but did not feed her husband to tigers. And even though she's married (with a *gasp* baby), she doesn't suck. Promise. PROMISE! Follow her on Instagram and Twitter (@rachelvarina) so she gets more followers than that influencer her husband dated in high school.