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Our Connector to The Earth

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Grounded

FLASH FICTION

Photo: cottonbro via Pexels

Once, there was a girl who lost the ground. Here’s how it happened.

To end her yoga practice, she chose mountain pose. Rolling up from a full-fold, her spine aligned click click click as her bones stacked one over the other over the other. Arms at her sides, palms out, shoulders back. A pillar of power and strength.

Grounding through all corners of her feet, she channeled her attention through the mat to the floorboards to the dirt below the house.

She imagined the worms pausing whatever it is worms do to feel the slight tremor of energy that shuttered through their world. They are wondering where the stir of energy came from, what the shift could mean.

She smiled to herself as she drank in another breath, worms don’t think and I neither should I right now. With an exhale, she released the worms from her mind and the smile from her lips. She focused her attention on growing roots.

With the sensation of a needle prick, the first spidery vein freed itself from the sole of her right foot. It expanded from the width of fishing wire to twine in a matter of seconds. The left foot followed suit.

The roots multiplied. They shot down down down splintering the floorboards, cracking through the basement cement, sighing with relief as they found the familiar comfort of the cool, loose dirt.

The roots bathed in the rich nutrients, sending out shoots of recruits in every direction. Weaving around rocks, curling around tree roots, they burrowed deeper deeper deeper.

The ground grew compact, but the roots took no warning. Hungry for whatever lay beneath, they pushed back, finding every weakness to creep through. Even the rock couldn’t resist the tenacity of the determined roots, surrendering to the invasive burrowing tendrils.

Until the Earth had enough.

A sudden sting on the back of her neck snapped her concentration.

Not wanting to break her mindful state too quickly, she kept her eyes closed and brought her attention back to her fingers, wiggling them and touching her thumb to each finger one at a time at a time at a time. She slowly rolled her head side to side to side, noticing the contrast between the intense connection to the solid ground and the strange floating feeling she felt now.

A post-practice high, she smiled to herself.

As she brought her palms together for Namaste she slowly opened her eyes to find them level with a ceramic stegosaurus.

She blinked, not understanding. Her ex had bought the dinosaur figurine for her at the museum. She had tucked it on top of the bookcase, out of sight and painful memory.

She blinked again waiting for her brain to catch up, then ratcheted her eyes down down down to the yoga mat. It was two feet below her feet.


Grounded was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

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