When I feel as if the world might pull me under, I put my feet in the grass. And since I live on a barrier island on the Gulf Coast, I can do this pretty much year round.
If I have shoes or socks on, I take them off. I find a green spot in the sun and I engage in full-on mountain pose right in that very spot. I wiggle my toes down so they can grip the earth, finding traction among the blades of grass. My efforts to ground myself never feel quite grippy enough – I wish the soles of my feet could sprout roots – but I do my best to dig my heels into the dirt below and find my place.
I don’t quite remember when I started this ritual as a way to keep from losing my ever-loving mind, but it has become one to which I cling tightly. I do recall as a child loving the feeling of cool grass on my bare feet, but the connection between the soles of my soul and the scalp of the earth began as an adult.
These past few years have been … hard. Even though I’m trying to stop doing this, I’ll qualify that “hard” with all the gratitude I have for everything and everyone in my life. I am in the throes of small children who need me and depend on me in a very physical and emotional way 24/7, my spouse is in medical training, and as a highly intellectual being living a decidedly un-intellectual life, my truest self seems to mostly float just out of reach.
So when I’m losing my shit, I go outside, to the ground, and the grass.
When I find my sunny patch and shimmy my toes as close as I can get to Mother Earth, I start to feel my soul awaken. I have literal solid ground on which to stand when everything around me whirls by, or else lands with a sharp thud on my mind or my heart.
In this position, sometimes my mind wanders to what chemicals my skin might be absorbing, or if I’m standing in ants, or if one of my children has left the yard entirely. But usually, for at least a few breaths, I am reminded that I am still here on the earth, my body is held by my feet, my shoulders are stacked on my hips, and my mind is balanced over my heart.
I’m whole. I’m here.
I belong on the earth, under the sun, in the dust from whence I rose, and to which at my death I shall return. And in the interim: a little earth, water, and sunlight empower me to love, breathe, grow, and live.
