As we settled into the ceremony, there was a palpable sense of density in the field. It did not feel personal. It felt planetary. It was as though humanity itself was carrying a heaviness that had accumulated over generations, and we were stepping into relationship with it.

One of the great misunderstandings about spiritual growth is the belief that transformation happens because we force it.

In a world where distractions, uncertainty, and rapid shifts have become the norm, grounding ourselves in living energies is not a luxury—it is a necessity.

This is why I have focused on grounding for decades. Not because it is trendy. Not because it is simple. But because it is revolutionary in the quietest possible way.

In spiritual conversations, the word attachment comes up often. We’re told to “release attachments,” “work with attachments,” or “let attachments go.”

We have been conditioned out of allowing, because control has been framed as survival. We learned to control in order to feel safe. And so now, part of our work is to relearn allowing—but in a way that feels supportive, not destabilizing.