Excuse Me While I Kiss the Ground


Kiss the Earth with your feet, says Thich Nhat Hanh.  Give the Earth your love and happiness.  Nowadays, I recite this while walking.  It brings me back to Earth.

That and a wonderful poem called The Messenger by Mary Oliver, which I recently added to my repertoire of memorized poems:  It opens with the line: My work is loving the world.  And then says: Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.

Sometimes I forget to love the world.  I address the world around me with fear and caution, yanking my energy up like someone leaping away in shock because the ground in front of her has just exploded.  Like someone who is getting ready to leave the planet.  Ah, going some place?

Well, no.  I’ve got lots to do here yet, so the call and the challenge is to be here now, both feet on terra firma—loving the earth—kissing it with my feet.

The new guy suggests yoga’s tree pose to get more grounded, but I have to say I like child pose better.  I like putting my forehead onto the Earth, getting upclose and personal, nose to nose.  “I see you,” I say to the Earth in Avatarian fashion. 

Speaking of Avatar, I think it’s interesting that the Na’vi have tails, because we humans have tails as well—energy tails.  I like to envision mine snaking down to the center of the Earth and wrapping itself around a metal rod at the core of the planet.  (Now why would there be a metal rod at the Earth’s core?  To wrap our energy tails around—duh!)

Seriously, I do doubt there is a metal rod down there, but the imagery works for me.  And speaking of snakes, shapeshifting into a snake is another good way to ground.  And for me it works really well because I don’t get skittish when I encounter a mouse or a big bug underground—I just stop and have a snack.