Shinrin-yoku

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from China
Shinrin-yoku

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
In today’s fast-paced, screen-dominated world, many people are rediscovering the profound healing power of nature.
My last days in Carbondale found me returning to and saying farewell to the four mother trees that nurtured me over the years living in the Shawnee Forest of Southern Illinois. My last visit with the trees brought friends; Megan, my Pacific Ocean sister in a double trunk tree pose and Holly, my Canadian tree sister in a mother tree hug. It was the trees and forest that I turned to in my times of struggle, grief and overwhelm during my nine years in the USA. Trees were my daily companions and my nourishment; like the Japanese I practice tree bathing.
The first art piece I did in my studio when I arrived in 2008 I entitled “Fallen Tree.” It was a visual metaphor of how I felt being uprooted from my home country of Canada and replanted in the foreign landscape and culture of Southern Illinois. What I did not know was that fallen trees are an essential part of the forest ecology. Fallen trees are called nursing logs as they nourish and feed new plant and tree growth in the forest. In my roles as teacher, advisor and director for students and my academic programs at Southern Illinois University, I myself became a nursing log. During my sabbatical in 2015, when I was temporarily released from my role as a nursing log, I experienced a fall where my feet slipped out from under me. Upon return to work, I began to seriously practice the yoga tree pose to address my chronic state of feeling unstable on my feet. The oak tree in front of my house, the cyprus tree on my regular walks around Campus Lake, and regular respite visits with the two cemetery trees, served as my steadfast teachers in regaining my leg strength and my spirit’s equilibrium.
In leaving Illinois and retiring from my academic positions I am aware that I no longer inhabit the fallen tree state as I begin a new life chapter in Calgary, the city I left 19 years ago to begin the academic chapter of my life. My limbs hold me upright and strong. I am infused by the many years of living within the forest, amidst a diversity of life experiences that have both challenged and enriched me.