The Earth Beneath Us: Simple Grounding Practices for Embodied Living
Dawn Cannon | MAY 8, 2025
There is a steady hum beneath our feet—an ancient rhythm that calls us home when the world begins to spin too fast. In the chaos of modern life, we often lose touch with this steadying presence. But the Earth is always there, waiting patiently for us to remember.
At The Creatrix, our path is rooted in grounding, trust, and transformation. We believe that healing begins by anchoring deeply into the present moment, and there’s no better teacher of presence than the Earth herself. When we allow our bodies to touch the soil, our breath to slow, and our nervous system to settle, we remember our place in the web of life. We move from disconnection to belonging—from overwhelm to calm.
I’ve returned to these grounding practices time and again, not just as a teacher, but as a seeker. When life feels untethered, I go to the Earth. I move, I breathe, I touch, I sip, I create—all with intention. These practices are not fancy. They don’t require special tools or spaces. What they require is willingness. A willingness to pause, listen, and come back to what is real.
Here are a few of the grounding rituals I personally cherish—each one a doorway back to center.
When I’m tired or feeling scattered, I step outside barefoot, place my feet on the ground, and begin to move with my breath. Half Sun Salutations are my go-to—a simple sequence that quiets my mind and brings me back into my body.
Sometimes, I place a block between my thighs just above my knees. This helps me engage my legs and core with more intention, especially when I’ve been feeling disconnected. There’s something incredibly stabilizing about this: my feet on the earth, my breath moving in rhythm, my awareness settling like soil after a storm.
Step-by-Step Instructions:
Repeat several times, matching your breath to each movement. Let it become a dance—a prayer—a reconnection.
Sometimes, the most powerful practice is the simplest one: walking around the block. There’s medicine in the rhythm of your own steps. Bonus points if you can do it barefoot or with a dog, but the truth is, even walking with full presence in shoes on concrete can be grounding if you’re truly there.
On days when my energy is erratic or my thoughts feel like static, I leave the house and walk slowly, breathing with each step. I look at the leaves, the cracks in the sidewalk, the way the light hits a fence post. It’s not about getting anywhere. It’s about remembering that I am somewhere—and that’s enough.
Nature speaks clearly when we’re quiet enough to listen. When I hike alone, I find the silence not lonely, but deeply comforting. I stop often—placing my hands on trees, crouching to touch the soil, holding a stone in my palm like a sacred talisman.
Each walk becomes a ceremony. Before I begin, I set a gentle intention:
“What can I learn about myself and my surroundings today?”
I enter the forest not to escape life, but to remember it. To feel the breath of the trees and let it slow my own.
There are days when the most sacred ritual is making a cup of tea. I don’t rush it. I select herbs intuitively—chamomile if I need calm, nettle if I crave nourishment, holy basil when I need to return to center. I pour the water slowly, hold the warm mug in my hands, and sip with reverence.
This isn’t just tea. It’s a communion with the Earth. A moment to feel how the plants enter my body and gently shift my energy.
Try it: make tea like it matters. Let each step be part of your ritual—choosing the herbs, boiling the water, feeling the warmth, tasting with full presence.
When we lose connection with the Earth, we often lose connection with the breath as well. Returning to conscious breathing is like digging our roots back into the soil.
One of my favorite grounding techniques is Nadi Shodhana, or alternate nostril breathing. It brings balance to the nervous system, clarity to the mind, and stillness to the heart.
Instructions:
That’s one round. Continue for 3–5 minutes, moving at a pace that feels nourishing.
Other grounding breath practices I recommend include:
I often use the Othership app for a little extra guidance and musical support.
When the weather allows, I’ll take my journal and book outside and sit directly on the grass. There’s something about that primal contact—the way the Earth supports me without asking anything in return—that helps me release tension I didn’t even know I was carrying.
This doesn’t have to be a formal meditation. It’s just about being still. Breathing. Reading. Writing. Being.
This is one of my most beloved practices. When I feel frayed or disoriented, I go into my backyard, lie down on the plush grass, and let the Earth hold me.
If I’m hiking, I’ll veer off trail and find a private spot to lie down in the woods. It’s one of the most powerful ways I know to come back to myself.
This is such a tender and creative practice—one that pulls me back into my childlike wonder. I gather items that call to me—stones, leaves, seedpods, twigs—and arrange them into a circular pattern on the ground.
Each mandala is an offering. A meditation. A moment of connection.
Build, unbuild, build again. There’s no right way. Just the joy of making beauty from what the Earth has already given.
If this calls to you, I highly recommend the book Morning Altars by Day Schildkret. It’s a beautiful guide to nourishing your spirit through nature, art, and ritual.
The Earth is not just beneath us. She is within us—in our bones, our breath, our blood. When we take time to reconnect with her, we remember who we are: not separate, not alone, but part of something vast and wise and sacred.
Grounding doesn’t erase our problems. It doesn’t stop the world from moving. But it gives us a stable place to stand, a center from which to respond rather than react. It calms the nervous system, clears the mind, and reawakens the soul.
So I invite you, beloved reader, to pause right now. Feel the weight of your body. The steadiness of your breath. Ask yourself gently:
Where am I in relationship to the Earth today?
Where might I need to root a little deeper?
What small practice could I try today to come back to myself?
These practices are not prescriptions—they are invitations. Choose the ones that speak to you. Return to them when you forget. Let them hold you when the world feels heavy.
And if you feel called to share, I would truly love to hear from you. What are your favorite grounding practices? How do you find your way back to the Earth beneath you?
Dawn Cannon | MAY 8, 2025
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