I spent a lot of time on the ground when I was a kid. A tractor tire sandbox and the weeping willow tree ‘house’ were my grounded places from my earliest years. Later my siblings and I had forts in the woods–one with boulder walls, rock chairs, and a leaf-covered ‘floor.’ I sat cross-legged on the ground holding chicks and kittens, their downy feathers and fur a wonder to be-held. We rolled down the hills with our arms tight to our sides and stared up at the sky when we came to a stop, waiting for the dizziness to leave our heads. We made snow angels in the soft snow–angels of four different sizes. When I was older, I would sit on the bank of a nearby creek and put my feet in the cold moving water, letting it carry away the heat of humiliation and hurts that accumulate in the life of a teenager.
The Black Lab dog we have used to run down the driveway and romp in the yard when I walked to get the mail. Now, in her ninth year, she walks out the door, lays down in the sunshine, and watches me fetch the mail. Often I join her on the ground when I get back, and the pleasure of the sun and the grass and my company is evident in her eyes.
I haven’t looked at the world from the ground up in far too long!
The evidence of Autumn is right before my eyes, and I realize the graying fur and graying hair make it apparent that Tamba and I are in the Autumn of our lives.
But what a great season it is! It feels good to lay in the sunshine and roll around in the grass!
It feels good to see the world from a different perspective. And yet…it seems like I have been here before.
It feels good to be grounded again.
Many of us spent much of our childhood years outside and on the ground. Being grounded is to be sensible, connected, and down to earth–the qualities of young children and animals of all sorts. It is a calm steadiness that reaches far beyond our own bodies and lives–from the ancestors who came before us who have returned to the ground to our offspring and the ones who come after us. Being grounded is the basis for our daily life; it is a way of learning and showing up. It is the foundation on which we can build the rest of our lives. Being grounded is like a hug from Mother Earth–one that tells us we are loved, we are accepted, and we are a wonder to be-held.
This message has so much meaning to me. I’m an 80 1/2 year-old lady from St. Cloud. My life began on a farm. I had the same fun in a wooded area next to my house. I had my own paths; a house I made with trees as borders for my rooms. — When my children were young, I would ask them to lie down and put their face close to the grass and watch for some action.
Keep up the good work that must be a labor of love for you.
Thank you, Muriel! So good to hear about your grounded places! It is a labor of love for me, and I appreciate your kind comments!