Getting Grounded: Finding a Vision

How to find your aura

Many years ago, I had someone read my aura. She held my hands and told me to close my eyes. I couldn't help opening one eye only to see her wincing. She eventually explained that while she expected my aura to be bright and strong, it was surprisingly wispy and slight. She said this was due to my need as a child to be safe by spending time on other planes rather than grounded and present on this earthly plane. If that weren't clear enough, the visual that came to her after that was one of a chrysalis fallen on the ground with the butterfly halfway out. She told me that the work of my adult life would be to decide if I wanted to come out and be here, and in doing that, I could reveal my authentic aura. She gave me exercises to ground myself, like going out into the yard in my bare feet and rubbing them against the earth every night before going to bed.  

While I still don't know what to think about auras, what she said about where I had been so far rang alarmingly true. Although I probably never did enough foot rubbing, my life's work has certainly centered around learning to be present in my life and not the life I saw in my head, which was firmly planted in the clouds. It was much safer up there, but it wasn't a place to build a real-life, so hearing this was helpful, at least for a time. After years of trying to visualize myself crawling out of that chrysalis and spreading some beautiful wings, I shared that vision with a counselor who saw me as more of a balloon that could use some tethering, or I just might float away (or fly away like a butterfly). 

Being grounded can be elusive but so worth it

In spite of whatever visual might fit at any given time, I have been on a long journey toward what it means to be grounded and whole. As much as I want to see myself as a butterfly (not stuck halfway out of a hollow shell, or needing to be tied down), one of the joys of maturing is you don't have to merely sneak a peek at what someone else determines fits for you in terms of a vision, a direction for your life, or anything else. And, even if a good visual helps you (or a good theme song) like it does me, like an avatar, you can change yours at any time in any way you see fit. And more importantly, at some point, we all have to be the captain of our own ships. The most valuable visuals and visions need to come from within. That's how we also know they will resonate.

So, if I were to pick a visual that suits me now, it would be the unglamorous fulcrum of a teeter-totter that sits at its grounded center, letting me move with the ups and downs of life, the balancing center of a scale. What keeps me on the fulcrum in my life? How do I keep that balance from tipping over or being flung constantly back and forth between wildly conflicting points?? 

Fulcrum: the point on which a lever rests while it "teeter-totters" up and down in response to the pressure on either side.

I find that every little bit, I need to stop and question where I now find myself and what the next grounded step will be. The longer I live, the more often that step includes living with more paradox than ever before. No wonder I have so many mixed feelings about being present. It's hard to be present with a constant bombardment of things that seem to cancel each other out, or at the very least seem, to be in conflict with one another.

Paradox: something with "contradictory features or qualities". 

No wonder life is hard. We walk one way only to be diverted another way. Every. Damn. Day.

Love yourself, but beware of being a narcissist; have an abundance of self-care, but no selfishness; heal, but always with a smile; let go, but hold on tight to every blessed thing; think the best of everyone, but don't bother with what anyone thinks of you; eat, drink, and be merry, but don't become an addict… 

But the question is, what really "grounds" me or you connecting us to what is here and real? How do we all keep coming back to be present instead of flying (or running) away? That centering, grounding, and balancing practice comes from inside. It no longer comes from what someone else sees or interprets for me. I now have the presence of mind to look and feel what only I can see and touch- my own experience. I am grateful for those who took the time to give me some perspective and food for thought along the way, but I'm especially grateful for stopping myself from a practice that protected me well as a child, but was no longer serving me. Even though others helped point me to it, it was mine to find and claim. Does that mean I no longer am bouncing around? Of course not, I live on a teeter-totter. But it does mean I don't go too far from home for my answers anymore. I stay closer to my own center. I'm clear now about closing my eyes to see, and I can assure you that when I do, I see my "aura" strong and bright. 

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Honoring Your Hungers: The Secret to Satisfaction

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Poetic Healing: How Poetry Saved my Life