Grounding (meditation) by Jess Reynolds

On my worst days, it is gravity I am most grateful for: the way the earth pulls at me from her core, yearns for me, keeps me pressed tightly against her surface. When my own core is hollowed out, when I have no more mass than a leaf dead on the branch, still this is enough for the earth to find me. She reaches for what little I have and says, stay.

Every meditation I have ever done begins by asking me to ground myself. This is not so much an action as it is inaction. Surrender. A voluntary abandonment of my own edges and tidy packaging.

Sit with me now. Press the soles of your feet back into the ground you sprang from. Feel the weight of your body and know that it is glorious. You are born of soil and sun, and all the heaviness of the earth is a call to you. The earth is reaching for you. Reach back. Reach back.

Why am I here?

 

Because I signed up. 

Because I sign up.

Because I need help and support living well, finding meaning. 

Because I find meaning here.

Because I find myself here.

Because I search. 

Because it's lonely to search and not have answers.

Because I like the way I show up here. 

Because I have skills that can be of service.

Because I believe in spaces that support searching and holding answers lightly and sharing them tentatively, as you share poems, as though they may be of use, and if they are, what gifts. 

Brave

I've been listening to a lot of We Can Do Hard Things podcast with Glennon Doyle. And re-reading Untamed. 

I think I just haven't been brave lately. I haven't taken the risk to show up as myself in the house, closing myself down, closing myself off, closing. 

I sense that if I let myself have fun - oriented toward my own joy, let myself rest while at home, there would be more of me here, more laughter, more love. More connection. 

When I think of what I'd like to fill my life with, I think of meditation, yoga, dancing, reading, and writing. Maybe cooking occasionally. Maybe. All that could be done if there were less tv, less work, less cleaning, honestly. 

I can be here for myself. I can show up with my family. I can love outward and inward at the same time.