When All Else Fails, Play in the Dirt
Grounding as a cure for overthinking
I’m a registered yoga teacher, fortunate to have trained with someone who emphasized holistic education—not just the poses. Because of that, I was introduced early on to the idea of energy.
From the Tantric chakra system to the Vedic kosha system, there are many ways to understand the subtle energy bodies that shape our physical experience.
The seven primary chakras—often described as wheels of energy—run along the spine. The upper chakras (Throat, Brow, Crown) relate to the thinking mind. The lower chakras (Root, Sacral, Solar Plexus) are, in my experience, more closely tied to our emotional landscape. And right in the middle sits the heart.
The intention behind working with the chakra system is balance.
Compassion has always been my superpower. If anything, my heart energy runs a little too open—though years of unpacking people-pleasing and codependency have helped steady it. In my memoir, Strong Roots, Wayward Soul, I joked that my solar plexus was the size of a pea. Self-worth has been a lifelong practice.
Even if it sounds like pseudoscience, many star athletes praise the power of visualization (Brow or our “mind’s eye”) and most of us know when something feels “off” in our gut (Solar Plexus or “power center”).
For me, the system is less about belief and more about awareness. It reminds me where to anchor.
The root chakra extends down through the legs into the feet—the part of us that physically connects to the earth. Even my highly practical husband bought moccasins once to help with “earthing” - making direct contact to discharge excess energy in the ground.
Lately, I’ve been living in my head.
Overthinking has taken the wheel—ideas looping, plans stacking, “what ifs” multiplying. If you look at it through the chakra lens, it’s an overactive Third Eye: too much ideation, not enough grounding. Head in the clouds.
I’ve been gripped by financial fear despite having months of runway. Trying to control outcomes despite years of practice reminding me to stay present. Convincing myself that one more post might finally turn the tide.
The antidote is simple, if not always easy: Root chakra energy, feet on the ground.
Choosing presence over productivity
My husband wanted to go out for breakfast. Still full from a two course meal last night, I wasn’t eager to stuff myself at the local diner. I scolded myself for being selfish, especially as my entrepreneurial mind mapped out my to-do list for the day.
Quality time, I reminded myself. Heart energy.
He wanted to tack on a trip to the local farm store. I took advantage of the visit and purchased a dozen bags of top soil. My raised beds have been settling and what started as a dirt line two inches from the top is now halfway down the container.
Gardening is my favorite way to ground, even though I’m working with my hands, not my legs. As I worked the new soil into the old, the familiar feeling of peace returned. The overthinking and busy-ness of recent weeks discharged into the soil.
For me, nature beats screen time even on the days it’s hardest to tear away from the digital world. Hands in the dirt, skin meeting soil. A quiet reminder: from dust, to dust.
It doesn’t always offer a tangible return. This spring, my radishes stalled. My beets likely won’t make it. So I turned them back into the soil. Added perlite for drainage. Mixed the overpriced “premium” blend into basic dirt. Squash prefers sandy soil, nothing fancy.
The second round might be better. Or it might not.
There’s something beautiful about organic growth. I could speed things up—buy mature plants, use fertilizers, optimize the process. But pressing seeds into the soil requires a healthy level of optimism and hope, something I’ve been lacking lately.
I’ve been planting a lot of seeds in my creative entrepreneurship journey. I’m surrounded by shortcuts. Faster ways to fertilize. A guaranteed outcome. But what if I let things grow at their own organic pace?
What if I made peace with what thrives—and what doesn’t?
When we had a YouTube channel for our homestead, one of my many creative endeavors throughout the last decade, I used the hashtag #haphazardgardener.
As in hobby, so in life.