Grounding

On one of my rest days on pilgrimage, I took a short walk away from my camp in Medanales, New Mexico.  As I returned, I saw barefoot tracks in the fine dust heading toward the camp.  It startled me more than a little bit.  I was immediately suspicious of a barefoot person.  Why? 

A short distance later I came upon Marilyn, a curly-haired, bright-eyed Buddhist who lived in the area.  She moved with an assurance and freedom that startled me.  We chatted about Truth.  I realized she was grounded in a way I haven’t been in a long time, probably since childhood. 

I took a cue from her and took off my shoes.  I began walking barefoot whenever I could (which is relatively easy on New Mexico’s dusty, mostly rock-free ground).  A person walks differently barefoot.  Slower.  More aware and awake (lest you dash your foot upon a stone) with the measured rhythm of walking a labyrinth.  It turns any walk into a moving meditation with the same results on body and spirit. 

One way to feel grounded is to imagine your bare feet sending strong roots into the ground.  Tree roots connect with other plants, sharing resources and subtle signals.  Feel that silent connection with others (in the same room or many miles away) through your feet.

What we say and do (and how we say and do them) changes when we’re grounded.  I’m learning to play pickleball.  My teacher tells me to “plant my feet” before hitting the ball.  That grounding, that planting, really does make a difference in the actions that follow.  Last time I played I walked the few blocks to the court barefoot before putting on my shoes, and I played better than usual.  

Being grounded doesn’t have to be some metaphysical thing.  It’s physical.  It doesn’t take years of practice.  Just take off your shoes.  Sit or lay down on the sand or grass. Feel the effect on your body and soul, and see how it changes the actions that follow.