Grounded

The ground is severely underrated.

I love the ground. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just my inner child demanding to be expressed (again), but I just love it down here. I feel safe on the ground. And happy. And real.

Sometimes I remember that I'm a real person who lives and breathes--and I'm surprised! So often,  I think about what I have to do, and where I have to be, and who I'm going to be with. I think about the check lists and the deadlines. The plans and the priorities. I run around and I do all these crazy things, and I love the life that I lead. But in the process, I sometimes forget that I am a person. I forget who I am.

Some places, some situations, ground me. (Ha! Ground. Get it?) Not because the situation itself is particularly inspiring, but because it just puts me in a mindset where I can think about my purpose. They're just times where I can stop. The continual whirr in my mind slows itself down, and I remember a little more. And the ground is one of those places.

So, here I sit. I'm on the floor, and I'm wearing my crazy rain boots and my flannel, rainbow plaid, lumberjack shirt. You know what? I like being a kid.