02/21/2026
I used to think grounding had to look like perfect meditation.
Turns out, it looks more like this.
Cold air. Big sky. Mud on my boots.
Two steady heartbeats beside me.
No notifications. No urgency. No performing.
When your nervous system grew up on high alert, peace can feel unfamiliar. So you practice it. You build it. You choose it.
For me, it’s 5am quiet. Checklists that create containment. Long walks in winter fields where the only thing asking anything of me is the horizon.
Grounding isn’t aesthetic.
It’s repetitive. Intentional. Sometimes muddy.
And it changes everything.
Find the practice that brings you back to your body.
Then protect it.
