This forest is unlike any I’ve ever known.
It smells sweet. A scent you’d get from sap and pine needles baking in the heat.
The air is clean and cool.
The trees are strange—short, scrubby pines, twisting towards the sky.
The wind whooshes through their tops, making a sound like ocean waves in the distance. I secretly wonder if they learned to imitate the sea from living next to it.
Wandering down the pine needle path, sun spots dance in the grass and moss speckles the forest floor. There’s magic here. It’s palpable and real and I stop to breathe it in, taking it into me.
When you’re grounded, you’re connected to life. You pulse together as one.
There’s nothing ahead or behind.
It’s just you, the trees, the light, the scent, and the wind, softly caressing your cheek.
Most of us pass through life off the ground. We become prisoners in our own heads, fighting battles and numbing out behind our eyes in the dark spaces of the mind. We forget to be in our bodies, that life is happening now, that the only way to access the present is to focus on what’s in front of us.
In Writing Wild, Tina Welling shares a simple practice to help us ground back into our bodies. All it requires is naming what’s coming through the senses.
What do you see?
What do you hear?
What do you feel?
Smell?
Taste?
When life hits the fan and you find yourself quaking inside, take yourself back to the basics. What’s coming through your senses? Write with paper and pen. Or if it’s easier, name things in your head.
Waterbottle.
Computer keys clicking.
The lingering hint of coffee.
Kitten in my lap.
Soft fur.
Bird cries behind the window.
Surrender into your experience, into the moment. Breathe in, breathe out. And bring yourself back down to the ground.
When you feel the tendrils of tiny roots anchoring you to the Earth, ask yourself if you’d like to go deeper. Explore what’s going on for you. Turn over the facts, your emotions, your experience. Write about it. Talk about it. Let it pass from your heart onto the page and into the air.
I wonder what would happen to our lives if we took the time to regularly ground into our bodies and our experiences?
When we create space in the chaos, we make room to observe, feel, and heal from a different angle. We make room for clarity and new perspectives. We make room for strength and resilience and the most effective course of action. What could that do for your life {for the world}?
Like anything, this practice takes practice. It’s very true that it’s easier said than done. I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum—tormented with worry, stress, and the threat of survival, but I’ve also experienced the deep calm of coming back to life, to the Earth, to peace, to presence.
It’s a practice that will require your commitment. You will forget. You will try it and you will struggle with it. But eventually, you’ll remember and you’ll learn and you’ll take yourself to the forest where you’ll confide in the trees…
And let the Earth drink your sadness.
You’ll let the wind carry your fear…
The sun fill you with light.
And once again, you’ll come back down to the ground.
Back to who you truly are.
Beyond the bars of being in your head.
<3
With light, love, & presence,
-Kayla
Words & Wisdom
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