The Healing Potential Below

By Kristine Kaoverii Weber | June 4, 2020

I don’t know about you, but this past week has wrung me dry. I feel like an overstimulated child in need of a nap.

I don’t think I can add much to the conversation about race in America that hasn’t already been voiced. And, frankly, as a middle-class, privileged, educated, straight white woman, I mostly feel called to keep my forking mouth shut and pay attention to the voices of those who’ve suffered under this protracted system of oppression.

However, I do feel like I have something to say about coping with the stress and exhaustion that can arise during times like these.

I’ve been hearing the admonishment of the earth. She’s saying something like, “Get down here. Let me hold you. I am exactly what you need right now.”

There are deep rivers of healing waiting beneath the surface that we stand, sit, walk, run, dance, pose and lie upon. This stunning green and blue ball, careening at 828,000 kilometers per hour through a mind-numbingly expansive void, is no lump of rock with a few half-conscious creatures loitering about on its surface.

It’s very much the primordial maternal presence – offering peace and stillness to any and all who choose to take advantage. Her lush web of consciousness holds limitless potential for healing.

All she asks is that I bring my attention down.

Get on the ground.

Roll around a little.

Pour out feelings.

Feel her support.

Be still.

And remember who I am.

And then, when it’s time to get back to my scurrying, I can do it with a deeper remembrance of what truly matters – to be a vehicle for her healing. Which, underneath it all, is really all I want.

Perhaps it’s what most people want, when it all comes down to it.

The earth is an eager recycling program for emotions – next time you’re watching a sunset, standing near a tree, or walking on a beach, just hear how she begs for your pain. She takes it all off our hands so we can be clearer vehicles for her healing.

(image by Shanti Yoria)

For me, getting grounded requires regular practice, and not so much tons of attention, almost the opposite really, tons of surrender or letting go.

I don’t always know what’s right for me, or what’s right for the world, but I’m pretty sure that she does. And I can only know what she needs from me when I remember to spend time being with her. Her healing potential is always there waiting, just below the surface.