Grounding isn’t about pretending you’re a tree.

It’s not about imagining roots growing out of your feet, or bypassing your very real human experience by drifting into a fantasy of nature.

True grounding is raw.

It’s about staying with what’s actually here — the pangs of anxiety in your chest, the ache in your shoulders, the breath that won’t quite deepen. It’s about noticing how alive your body is, even when it’s uncomfortable, and choosing to stay present anyway.

When we practice grounding in this way, we are not escaping. We are coming home — to a body that feels, to a nervous system that longs to regulate, to a sense of aliveness that can carry us through uncertainty.