Lost, Found & Grounded

I swore I’d never be this person. I swore I’d never let the silliness stop. I promised myself I’d drag out my youthful rebellion until the day that I died.

But here I was on a Friday night, sat cross legged and barefoot on the floor of a secret woodland garden sipping elderflower water with a group of women, weaving willow crowns, meditating and saluting the sun.

I’ve been bowing down to the cathartic qualities of writing for quite a while now and we all know that nature is therapy. So put the two together and you’re making magic with all your senses.

The only instruction we were given was to wander around beneath the trees or stay seated and write whatever came to us.

And as my intention for the Summer Solstice was to get back to my roots and to feel grounded, I took the opportunity to sit still, breathe deep and take it all in.

Words flew out of my pen at speed, piercing the page like feathered darts filled with ink. There was no pause, no time for reflection or reasoning. There was nothing else in that moment but me and my pen.

Lost, Found & Grounded

The sun is rising again, falling slowly through the sky, but I am still.

I am grounded.

The earth is rising up to meet me. I feel it through the soles of my feet. I feel it in my soul. It’s uneven and broken and wild and free. It’s perfectly flawed – a little bit like me.

I’m told I should take care when walking forward, that I should tread carefully. But I don’t want to.

I want to amble around this world with my eyes wide and heart open, deliberately lost and actually, found.

I sit peacefully in stillness on my mat, listening to every sound around me. Every chirp, every tweet and every rustling leaf.

I hear the cars whirring along the nearby road trying their best to silence the aural beauty of nature. But they can’t, they never can.

Mother Nature’s spoken word will always sing louder than anything man, or woman, could have ever made.

And if we pay attention, we can hear her humming.

We can hear her melodies chanted out from the treetops and her earthy percussion beats beneath our feet. She serenades us with the sounds of snapping twigs and crunching leaves and falling rain.

And earth is her promise to keep us grounded.

There’s something about the scent of it that makes it difficult to describe. It’s just earth, I guess. It looks and smells and feels like earth. I’m sure it tastes like earth too, but I can’t say I’ve ever tried it.

It’s accepted for everything it is and everything it’s not. Sometimes we forget it’s even there. But where would we be without it?

Lost but never found.