
Earth doesn’t need to prove herself.
She simply is.
She holds everything, the mistakes, the miracles, the compost of old versions of us, and she asks nothing but patience. She says, “Stay. Grow slow. You’re safe.”
So far this week, I found grounding in the smallest things. My hands in warm water, washing my blender bottle. A rock I picked up and didn’t put down for some reason. The smell that fills the air when I water the lavender. My body knew what it needed before my brain caught up.
Sometimes Earth is a whisper.
Sometimes she’s a full-body “no!”
And sometimes she’s just a nudge to rest already, before life makes you.
I let her guide me this week. I stopped rushing. I made lotion. I cleaned off the table that I’ve been avoiding. I made a list, then promptly ignored it. And the world? Still turned. The garden? Still grew. My worth? Still whole.
There’s a lesson in the compost: nothing is wasted.
There’s a lesson in the roots: what supports you is often unseen.
There’s a lesson in the stones: stillness can be sacred.
So if today you don’t bloom, if today you’re still underground, know this:
You’re not behind.
You’re becoming! 🌺🎆 💐