"Feets on the Ground"
Everyone says we need to "ground ourselves." Walk barefoot in the grass. Stand in a stream or hug a tree. They say it will connect you with the earth and you will feel its energy flow through your body.
Wonderful idea, but I have a few questions. Where exactly is this magical patch of grass? And where is this crystal-clear spring-fed stream that will cleanse me to my core and send me skipping through life with renewed energy and purpose? The grass near my apartment has been visited by every dog in Middleton. It is also monitored blade by blade by a guy in a truck called "Tru Green" or "The Lawn Doctor."
I find that an interesting play on words.
"Tru" Green isn't very true if I can't wiggle my piggies in the grass without worrying about what was sprayed on it last Tuesday. It's true alright that I might turn green from being poisoned before I absorb enough earth energy to float home.
And The Lawn Doctor? Really? That doctor spends a good portion of his career killing everything that naturally belongs there. Dandelions, clover, and all the little things that bees seem to enjoy a whole lot more than perfectly manicured lawns. Then there is the grass near the road. That patch has spent forty years absorbing exhaust fumes, road salt, and whatever else gets tossed at it by passing traffic.
Somehow I don't think Mother Earth intended that to be my healing sanctuary. Let me add that I'm not entirely convinced I want to stand in the stream either. The stream probably contains three shopping carts, a bicycle, and at least one mystery item nobody wants to identify.
And these feet aren't twenty years old anymore. By the time I walk barefoot across a gravel parking lot to reach this magical stream, I'll need grounding from the pain alone.
Yet I think there may be something to the idea. Maybe grounding isn't always about bare feet and hugging trees. Maybe it's about remembering where you are.
Looking up at the sky.
Petting a cat.
Drinking coffee or sweet tea on the porch.
Watching flowers bloom.
Calling your son on his birthday before you completely forget and have to scramble for your phone.
Taking a shower and washing away a hard day.
Maybe grounding is simply returning to yourself.
And if that's true, I think I'm overdue.
Still, if I'm driving along someday and happen to spot a patch of clean, untouched grass that hasn't been visited by dogs, treated by lawn doctors, or marinated in traffic fumes, I just might pull over and give it a try. Then again, before hugging a tree, I would probably look around first to make sure nobody was watching. Because while I am interested in reconnecting with nature, I am not interested in becoming the topic of conversation at the local coffee shop.
"Did you hear about that woman hugging the oak tree over by the highway?"
"Yep. She looked very grounded."
Maybe that's the secret after all. A little sunshine, a little laughter, a little fresh air, and a reminder that no matter how crazy life gets, we can still find our way back to ourselves. It's all about energy, isn't it?



























