Tag Archives: grounded

Grounded & Growing

Like everyone else, I have experienced change or loss in my professional and personal life, sometimes leading to feelings of grief, pain and uncertainty.  It it is easy to be tempted to dismiss these feelings and say, “suck it up and keep going” or some other friendlier reminder like “these things happen, change is good, go on”.  But what happens when we don’t feel that way yet? When we’re still feeling puzzled, or depressed, stricken or shocked?

As a channel, I have learned to go within in times of struggle. In my last post, Feeling God When You Feel So Alone, I talked about how I found shelter when it was too difficult to “go within” by myself.

Another way I discovered was on a recent walk with a friend who silently held space for my transformative experience…

The trees provided a shady overhang, and the air was thick with dewy perfume. I was wearing inconvenient flip-flops, not realizing we would be walking on uneven terrain – and I said they were bothering me.

“Why not take them off?” I heard beside me, and without much hesitation, because that is the kind of person I am :), I did.

This may not seem like a big deal, but suddenly I was entranced as my feet touched the ground. The earth felt cool and moist, and I noticed the raw and richly packed earth making a path for me, with the odd random twig or leaf.  It felt like such a relief! But I didn’t say anything, because I was too engrossed in what I was doing to comment.

My friend, however, noticed my change in  mood, and was entranced with me and what I was doing, and so took pictures.

Here are some pics of the unfolding scene…

The silence and concentration required to watch my step, caused me to feel very grounded and to “keep going” without pausing to think about it. I had to! If I didn’t pay attention I might step on a rock, or worse a tiny frog! So I focused where I was, and enjoyed the feeling of putting one foot in front of the other – and the soft receptivity of the earth to hold onto.

It’s amazing how rubber shoes and other outer-wear implements shield us from the elements, but also from our fundamental connection to the earth and our interior nature. Even our feelings underneath. Once the shield is dropped, we are laid bare to feel vulnerable, while at the same time protected by something greater than ourselves.

Our vulnerability makes us feel raw (including the bottoms of our feet!), but our hearts can feel warmer, feel felt and seen, witnessed and heard.  Our mother is waiting for us, and we can let go and drop down to the great unseen.

What did this do for me? Well, it didn’t solve all my problems or talk back to me. It didn’t tell me where to go or what to do. But it provided a soft path to follow, and the permission to be me. 

Being grounded, literally, to the earth provided a sweet balm of healing, an inner well to draw from when the mental and emotional self feels too dry or unfathomable. Dipping down into the forest floor, feeling the world trembling with every footstep or forest critter’s movements, every wind through tree, gave me a sense of purpose and belonging. I can be here. I know how to do this. It is like I remembered a treasury from being a child who doesn’t worry about the shoes on her feet!

The world is an open door, and the ground is always there to greet you, to run across barefoot, to play on, or even to lie down upon and stair at the open sky or branches overhead and ask, “Why?” and just listen with profound innocence.

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Being grounded gave me a sense of innocence that remembers it is still a growing thing, like a seedling, totally dependent on the earth beneath her feet. I was connected to everything, not a solitary tree, but with roots expanding and touching other trees, a community of living things. And my friend, who was my usual companion, didn’t have to speak. Didn’t have to guide me. Just being there to witkrista walking smileness, and perhaps offer a hand as I walked over a fallen branch, was enough for me.

Being grounded and growing within came as a surprise to me. It didn’t come only from praying in solitude in my silent haven (though I lo
ve and rely upon that too); it didn’t come from talking to and fro about the problem; it came nestled in the trees, and down below on the ground, where I was busy, walking.

The greatest surprise in going forward came from putting one foot in front of the other, and finding there was always something there to catch me.

 

 

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