To say that Muir Woods is “beautiful” is an understatement. Maybe “staggering” is more apt. It’s easy to feel so small and young among the tall and old trees. Coastal redwoods rise from the ground, stretching far into the sky. I craned my neck, pointed my lenses, and still, I could not do these trees justice. With the rain falling and the moist air, the clean, pure smells of the forest filled me. I felt grounded. Calm. With every step, I reaped the wonderful benefits of forest bathing.

My “jet-setting” life was certainly not glamorous. Yet, as the taxi or the Uber made its way from SFO or OAK toward the city, I took it all in. As I walked the mile from my hotel, The Metro—(truly, my home away from home), each Saturday to and from classes, New Hampshire and my life there seemed miles away—3,138, to be exact.