Rooted in Strength: Grounding as Our Greatest Resource

Every morning, before the chaos of emails, parenting, and life’s curveballs, I return to one simple practice: Natural Stance. It’s my daily ritual to ground myself, especially when the world, or my body, feels off-kilter. Think of it as plugging into the earth’s Wi-Fi; the connection is always there, you just need to log in.

Why focus on grounding? Well, picture a dying plant. If its leaves are wilted, you wouldn’t spritz them with water and call it a day; you’d go straight to the roots. The same goes for us humans: misalignments often start at our feet, and the imbalance ripples upward, showing up as tension, discomfort, or even chronic pain. 

I’ve dealt with my share of pain, especially in my ankles and knees, which often flared up on long walks or hikes when the ground was unsteady. Pain always seems to arrive at the least convenient time.

Once, while hiking in the lush Costa Rican jungle about a mile from my casita, I felt a sharp pain shoot through my ankle and up to my knee. My daughter, just nine months old and oblivious to any immediate danger, was asleep in her carrier against my chest. Suddenly, I went from “jungle adventurer dad” to “hobbling snack for predators.” There I was, stuck in the middle of the jungle, thinking, "This is how it ends—taken out by my own ankle."

The pain hit me hard, not just physically, but emotionally. I had a mini midlife crisis right there in the thick of nature. “I’m 42 now; when my daughter turns 18, I’ll be 60.” I had been sober for at least three years at this time, and I could feel myself wanting to numb out with drugs and alcohol. Suddenly, fear rushed in: What if I can’t keep up with her as she grows? What if my body fails me when she needs me most? 

Before the pity party RSVP’d more guests, I paused. Instead of spiraling, I closed my eyes and focused downward, on my feet. I bent my knees slightly, softened my belly, and let my breath find its rhythm. I went through the protocol my master had taught me to ground my body. As my spine found its natural alignment, I let my bones support my weight. I felt my connection to the ground reaching deep into the earth. The jungle sounds—leaves rustling, wind whispering—reminded me I wasn’t separate, and slowly the pain eased. I felt connected again, not just to the ground beneath me, but to the wider web of life. 

That moment taught me something powerful: grounding isn’t just about posture; it’s about being more resourceful. I don’t need to look outside myself for the answer to my stress or reach for the bottle or drugs to make the pain go away. I have the most reliable resource available: my bones. I simply need to remember in those moments that I’m supported, even when my body feels shaky or my mind feels scared.      (continued below)

And yes, the ankle recovered. More importantly, my trust in my body did too. I realized I was still capable of decades of adventure, of climbing mountains both literal and metaphorical, and, most importantly, alongside my daughter.

Life, of course, has its peaks and valleys. Pain and uncertainty are part of the terrain, but there's no need to get stuck there. Every time I root, physically and energetically, I find strength, clarity, and calm. Grounding relieves not only the tension in my body but also the worry in my mind.

Natural Stance is one of those deceptively simple practices: it looks like you’re just standing around, but in reality, you’re fine-tuning your body’s alignment and teaching your left and right sides to work together. In Natural Stance, your weight is spread evenly between both feet, your torso and head rest effortlessly on the spine, and your spine curves naturally. In this position, energy flows more freely, balance returns, and you start to feel like your body is finally on your side.

So, if you’re feeling stuck, tense, or disconnected, try Natural Stance. It may sound simplistic, but it might just give you back your footing, in every sense of the word.