Lately, I’ve been feeding a greater need to improve my grounding. In the increasingly chaotic and manic world we have stumbled into over the past decade and a half, I feel like I have lost some of the ability I used to have to ground myself. Chances are that it is more likely that my abilities have not changed so much as they have not adapted to the current state of affairs — they are a little off-key might be the better way to think of it.
Prior to my toenail incident, I had plans to resume doing the yardwork I had started on Saturday as part of my exercise in grounding. I’m not into gardening, mowing or those kinds of things, but cleanup is something I can get myself lost in.
A bit of landscape rock that became temporary, then permanent storage of deadfall — it was time to clean it up and get rid of the debris so you can tell that there is that appalling landscape stone there instead of old branches. After several seasons of dead leaves gathering in the nooks of old branches, the rocks were filled with composted vegetation.
Because I was working six to seven days a week from late in the pandemic until the end of last year, I never seemed to get out to clean up the mess. So I started there. Then I trimmed back the volunteer trees from my neighbors chain link fence that borders my yard. Disturbed many worms and grubs to get the compost out of the rocks by raking and leaf blowing until it looked mostly like rocks again. Rain or a good soft spray from a powerwasher should finish it off.
I filled up one of those big 90-gallon yard-waste bins and the area was a tiny fraction of what I could have done. Had the toenail episode not happened, I was planning Sunday on going out and trimming back the other little volunteer trees that grow up too close to things to be healthy, buying some compostable twine and bundling it all up. Maybe take a quick ride around the neighborhood on the bicycle. Of course, my “injury” changed my plans.
This upcoming weekend I plan to plant the three trees that I purchased from the city to replace those that had to be removed since we bought the house. Two flowering (but fruit-free) trees and a river birch. I want to plant more, but I need to find an inexpensive supply of pines to replace the ones that needed to be removed over the winter due to disease.
And maybe at the end of the month I’ll try to teach myself how to use a kayak that I bought over a year ago, but never could get away to actually use. It’s still too cold to think of even trying to kayak without a wetsuit, something that I do not feel like investing it at this time. The water is still at around 45°F/7°C, which is brutally cold to sit in without insulation, even if you can manage to stay dry. Kayaks are not designed to keep one dry. Afloat, but not dry.
All of these activities are grounding activities, all without the ritual elements. So are long walks, especially in the forest (for me, anyway). As I rewild myself, I want to move away from focused, ritualistic grounding sessions and towards activities that support grounding on their own. I want to try and wash away some of the anxiety that plagues the world today, at least in the sphere of which I have influence, which is generally limited to myself (especially because I decline to participate in various magics and rituals).
Rewilding, in some respects, is pulling back from fomulae and protocol. It is about doing those things that come naturally, with an essence of wu wei (the Taoist concept of unforced doing-not-doing) driving the practice.
Or lack thereof.
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