Grounding – Frantic Shanti

It’s 2026 and We’re Safe

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Not going to lie, the world may seem like an unstable place. While I am happy to say that I remain cancer-free, I am facing some unexpected threats that could drastically shift my everyday life. And I know that there are readers out there with similar experiences.

Therefore, this is a great time to remind ourselves of one calming truth: at this very moment, as you are reading this post, you are safe.

You might not feel safe. There may be news you’ve received that threatens your safety. There might be thoughts in your head that make you feel unsafe. But the reality is that you are safe…right now. And…right now.

At these finite points in time, as we notice them.

Here, where you are in this moment, is safe…even when your brain says otherwise.
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What do I mean by safe? For me personally, “I am safe” has to do with the calm reality of the present moment as contrasted with past traumas and future fears. Where you are right now, even if you don’t “feel” safe, is physically safe.

Obviously, your mileage may vary, and if you’re currently falling off a cliff then you can claim that you are not safe. But 99.999999999% of us will not be reading a blog in mid-air.

Feel into where you are in space. Notice the weight of your body and how it makes contact with the surface on which you’re resting. Objectively, where are you? Can you hear the buzzing of kitchen appliances, the chirping of birds, the people speaking outside? Reaching outward with your senses, leave the brain noise behind.

“I am safe” works as a soothing affirmation. Pair it with diaphagmatic breaths, nice deep ones into the belly (“belly breathing”) to reinforce the action of the vagus nerve in activating the parasympathetic (“rest and digest”) nervous system.

As you do this, slow everything down. I often employ the imagery of forming a “pearl” around myself and establishing a safe zone inside. Imagine that you’re blowing a bubble that surrounds you, with a slightly frosted appearance. As it forms, you can still see what taking is place outside it, but there is space between you and the rest of the world. Gone is the “in your face” feeling of rawness.

Feeling into your body is a quick way to ground yourself in what’s happening now.
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Rub your hands together and notice the sensations in your palms. Scrunch your toes and then stretch them out.

In or out, you decide. You have the option of reaching outward with your senses, or if you prefer, bringing your attention inward into your body. Or alternate between the two. Always noticing what is happening now.

The important thing here is that I’m not suggesting that nothing bad will ever happen or that what took place in the past doesn’t matter and can’t hold sway over you. Those are rose-colored views that are unrealistic and dismissive. What I *am* saying, and again, this is how I interpret this concept, is that you can check in at any given moment and notice that you are currently not in the maws of death, even if your brain is trying to convince you that you are.

Here. Grounded in this seat. You are safe.

Happy 2026!

Stop and Do This Now

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No matter where you are reading this, pause now and take a deep breath.

And exhale.

How did that feel? How you were breathing right before you took that breath? Were you relaxed with deep breaths already? Or was your breathing quick and shallow and that sudden deep inhale felt very different?

For me, my breath is a reflection of my internal state. It’s a compass that points me to what is happening to me, regardless of what is going on around me. Many times, I’m not aware of how I am responding to things around me until I stop to notice my breathing.

And don’t forget to exhale.
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Sometimes it takes a number of tries to achieve a deep inhale. Then I realize how shallow my breaths have been. That opens the door for me to consider how I’ve been reacting to things throughout the day. And it also leads to more deeper breaths as I settle down.

If I’m home, I may grab my flute — it is a Native American-style flute of red cedar wood. Holding it in my hands, enjoying the pleasant scent of cedar, playing a few bars of a mournful melody…all that helps to calm and ground me. It demands a controlled lungful of air for a clear tone, an elongated exhale that soothes me.

Did you take a deep breath at the start of this post? If not, try it now. And notice. Notice if it’s easy for your diaphragm to drop and pull in a good lungful of air, or does your body resist, as if something is squeezing your lungs, or your torso is bound tight?

Take several more breaths and allow them to expand your ribcage, coaxing more air in with every inhale and slowly releasing with every exhale. Until, like a balloon that has been stretched, the lungs fill fully, comfortably, easily.

And then just breathe. Allow yourself to stay where you are with whatever is taking place around you and keep breathing. Breathe mindfully for few minutes. Shake off the pressures of the day.

Then take one more deep breath…and carry on.

Rappeling Down through the Strata: A Grounding Exercise

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It’s been a very weird few weeks for me. My stress levels have been climbing, and while I can kind of, sort of point to certain anxiety-provoking events that might be responsible…there’s nothing truly significant that would elicit this type of response.

Regardless, I’ve been spending more time in the “higher strata” of myself, and I don’t mean this in a good sense. Another way of putting it is that I’m all up in my own head, bouncing around and being pummeled by all sorts of thoughts, expectations, fears, unreasonable beliefs and the like.

Oooo, there I am, stuck in my own head.
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Usually I know when this is happening, but this time I was too preoccupied with the worries of those around me that I didn’t notice myself drift up and stake a camp in the swamp of my mind.

Even my meditations tended to get stuck up there. Time to rappel down.

I get myself down this way: first by acknowledging the mess that I’m dealing with in my head, the rainstorm whipping up swirling thoughts. Not all my concerns are unreasonable, but they are pointless to get hung up on in this moment.

Next, I focus on the noise on the street outside (there is always noise on our street, but the longer I listen, the greater chance that I’ll hear a bird or other wildlife sounds). I bring my attention out to the expanse around me—getting out of the cramped space between my ears.

That’s a nice break. But I can’t ignore myself forever. So I feel into the sensations on my face: the feeling of the air (hot or cool), noticing the weight of my glasses on my nose, perhaps an itch on the scalp or cheek.

And here I go, rappeling down to a place where I can ground myself and return to the present moment.
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Then I drop down to my neck and shoulders, giving them a roll as I go, and then towards my chest. Here I pause and bring focus to my breathing. Usually that results in an automatic slowing of the breath, as I notice my ribs expand and contract.

But after a brief stay I rappel down and out more quickly, into my hands and feet. Noticing how my hands feel on whatever surface they lie. And how my feet feel against the earth.

I imagine that my feet are part of the bedrock, joining the rest of the Earth’s crust. Connected and solid, forming a stable base.

And from down here, I look back up to where those clouds around my head were bringing furious rain, and they seem so far away. I’m peaceful and unruffled here on the ground. Down here is what’s really happening in the present, without being affected by the past and future. And what’s happening is just what’s happening, neither good nor bad.

Taking a deep breath, maybe a yawn, I stretch my body out the way I do when waking from a long sleep, enjoying the slight shiver of the muscles.

And then, on to the rest of my day a little bit calmer.

Entering a Dimension of Calm

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One of the amazing “side effects” of meditation for me has been that the calm I experience while I’m on my meditation cushion has been leaking into the rest of my life.

This did not happen overnight. As a matter of fact, it took a number of years (I am currently on 7+ years of daily meditation). But through the ups and downs of my sessions, there’s been a wonderful build-up of grounding and calm.

Yes, I still get smacked with a powerful wave of anxiety from time to time. But recovery is quicker and I don’t feel like I’m being dragged under, disoriented.

The raw dimension is slippery and loud and agitated.
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What I have been feeling lately is that there is a dimensionality to how I experience the world. It’s like this: there is the raw world, which has lots of hard edges and bright lights–overexposed, washed out colors–and loud noises. That’s the world I used to live in exclusively and it felt like a whoosh flying at me and pulling me in, allowing no control over what was hitting me, nor much of a way to steer myself.

But now, I’ve transcended that dimension somewhat. I’ve found a much more grounded dimension, perhaps a more soothing shade–think “golden hour”. The colors are deeper, the pace is slower, the sounds are gentler, the edges are softer. In this dimension, I find my roots quickly, feeling my feet on the floor and connection to the earth, to what is stable and unchanging.

The calm dimension invites deep breaths and beckons us into the present moment.
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Here, I hear my breath and feel the tingle in my hands. I notice when I’m clenching my jaw, furrowing my brow, hunching my shoulders. I am also aware of when the raw dimension starts pushing to the forefront and am able to prioritize creating a safe space so that I don’t leave myself exposed.

This may sound very woo-woo but I assure you it’s not. It’s very much down-to-earth and sensible. There is no otherworldly magic at work. Just the understanding that my nervous system needs to feel safe and stable, and that I can offer myself a protective shield not by running away, but by settling into where I am.

It is as if there is a comfy blanket that I draw around myself, and from there I sit and watch and process and, if necessary, deflect the things around me. This is the gift that consistent meditation along with mindfulness have given me, and it feels like for the first time I’m experiencing life the way it was meant to be lived. Not as something to dodge and weave around but something to grow with.

Finding Calm in a Matcha Tornado [VIDEO]

Following up on last week’s post on taking a coffee break, I’m sharing my daily matcha experience with you.

During my workday, I need to stop periodically and ground myself so I don’t get sucked into a hectic hole. And for me, there’s no better way to do that than to stand up, walk around to get some movement into my body and extra blood flowing to my brain…and head to the kitchen to make a matcha latte.

There’s nothing like taking a soothing break from my hectic day.

There is something about the process of making that tea drink that offers opportunities to focus on a soothing distraction that grounds me in reality. From pouring water into the tea kettle…scooping out the bright green powder…measuring out the water…whisking the solution into a brilliant verdant tornado…I find it so blissful.

This is reminder to there is more to my day than what shows up on the computer monitor. Those stressors will pass like a wave…new ones will arise…and those too will pass by.

Enjoy the swirl!

Dampening the Echoes of the Past

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The Advent season is a perfect time for introspection and mindfulness. For me, 2023 has had challenges and as a result has served as a proving ground for different calming techniques.

One of the things I’ve grappled with, usually in the wee hours of morning, is the persistence of uncomfortable memories from the past.

It reminds me of a one-panel comic that I saw some time ago: a person lying in bed, eyes wide, a theater marquis over their head that reads in bright lights: PLAYING AT 3AM! EVERYTHING YOU SAID AT THE PARTY LAST NIGHT! [A cartoon in the same general vein by Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell appeared in The New Yorker on Jan 21, 2019 (#11 of 15), but I’m not posting it here because they might be touchy about copyright infringement.]

In the middle of the night, being hit with an glaring memory of something that sends your stress levels rocketing…goodbye sleep.
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How many of us have had a similar experience? I occasionally find myself tortured by things I said or did even decades ago. DECADES! Or they could have happened yesterday. A simple image can trigger shame, embarrassment or regret that feels real and vivid and, yes, while this generally happens at night for me, it’s certainly not limited to that time.

How odd that we give the past so much power over us when it’s not even real anymore. While we’re shaped by our experiences, allowing ourselves to be haunted by them serves no purpose, especially not once we’ve learned whatever we needed to from them.

Soooo, one early morning in the darkness I found a way to add some perspective to the memories that bully me: I started thinking of them as echoes, wispy harmless reminders of what happened.

And there in bed at 3am, I am safe. My body is not in the imagined situation, it’s under the covers, lying on my mattress. Here is where mindfulness is so helpful because it brings me back to the present. The past is echoing, trying to get my attention. But the more aware I am of where I am in space currently, the easier it is to step back and simply observe the echoes, watching them fade away.

I’m making this sound simple, I know–as with all the things that bounce around inside our heads, taming a stressful memory is not necessarily easy. But identifying it as just an echo has been remarkably helpful for me. It has provided a different viewing angle that enabled my perspective to shift.

Echo…echo…echo…

Thinking of thoughts as echoes can dispell them, but simultaneously focusing on a sense helps ground us in reality.
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I’m not there now, those other people are not there now, that event is not happening now–just because I remember it so vividly doesn’t mean that anyone else does. And most of the time, I don’t remember it either. Only during the limited, wee-morning-hour viewing window during which it appears because I’m susceptible to the tickle of anxiety.

The senses can bring me back to reality. Opening the eyes, feeling where my body contacts the surface that it’s on, hearing the hum of a fan or sound machine. Anything occuring in the present anchors me to what’s going on now.

And in the present, that echo cannot hurt me because it’s just an airy thought.

Of course, this all comes back to the basic idea that the more we practice presence, the easier it will be to minimize the impact of thoughts that unsettle us. It may take some exploration to find what works best for you, but in the end, being patient and consistent will be the best way to calm your mind and bring you back to what is real at the moment.

In the Midst of “Breast Cancer Pink”, Finding Stillness: A Meditation

As you’re probably aware by now, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. For breast cancer patients and recent survivors, seeing all that pink around can be a little stressful.

Yes, it’s important to maintain awareness that 1 out of 8 women in the United States will be diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in their lives. Those of us who have already been…well, it would be nice to forget about it once in a while.

One out of 8 is a lot of pink!
(Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash)

So for this post, I want to offer you a very simple meditation. No prep needed.

Pause where you are right now and become still. Right where you are.

Notice how your body feels in the space that you’re inhabiting. What sensations do you feel most strongly?

The expansion and contraction of your ribcage with your breath?

The contact points of your body on the surface where it rests?

Perhaps a pesky little ache somewhere, in your joints, muscles or around an incision?

Tingling in your fingers or toes?

Are you gripping anywhere? If you notice tension somewhere in your body, very very slowly see if you can soften it. It’s okay if it doesn’t release completely – imagine that part becoming heavy and pliable.

And then see what other physical sensations make themselves known to you.

Stay with your body. There might be a lot going on in your mind right now, but that’s “up there” in your head.

Here. Stay down here.
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We are down here in your physical being. Feel the stillness that exists here, not agitated by your thoughts. It’s okay if there’s noise in your mind, like if you lived on the floor below a bustling office. All those workers up there, getting their stuff done.

You can hear them, moving about, speaking in muffled tones, keeping busy. That’s all okay. They can be there.

But we’re all hanging out in stillness down below, with distance between what’s going on here and what’s happening elsewhere. We have space.

How does it feel knowing that you have permission to be still? That you don’t need to drop everything and dash upstairs? The thoughts can wait. They’re not going anywhere. You have time.

Eventually, you’ll return to the hustle and bustle up there. But know that you can always take a break, come down into your body and sit in the stillness that is here.

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This October in particular is very busy for me. A big project at work, the holidays around the corner, prepping for guests while our apartment STILL awaits repairs. And then strange guilt that I’m not doing more yoga teaching. It’s a lot to manage in my head, all this piling on of responsibilities.

So that meditation up ^^^ there? Yeah, I needed that. ❤

Mindfulness 101: Avoiding Avoidance

There is, unfortunately, a trap that some people may fall into when practicing mindfulness meditation.

In the context of selecting a point of focus that anchors you into the present, there is that teensy possibility that someone just starting out with meditation might focus without equanimity.

Equanimity is the ability to maintain balance and a sense of calm in both good and bad situations. It is the acceptance that impermanence and suffering are a part of life, and it is the state of allowing all feelings to pass through you, observing them without judgement or expectations brought on by previous experiences.

Equanimity is being able to allow in both the good and the bad without getting dragged through it.

Allowing emotions in when you’re trying to stay calm and collected might seem a little counter-intuitive, but in fact, I consider it to be to goal of mindfulness meditation. That’s because the most important time to maintain a sense of inner peace is exactly when the proverbial sh!t hits the proverbial fan. Mindfulness meditation provides us with a safe space within which to practice just that.

The tendency, however, is to try to keep difficult emotions out. I myself encounter a lot of resistance when doing guided meditations that focus on bringing up uncomfortable thoughts, particularly in the evening, when I’m most susceptible to anything that might perturb my sleep.

However, not allowing those thoughts in can set up a pattern of avoidance, depriving us of the opportunity to learn to deal with them. And this avoidance can imbue difficult thoughts with even more power, as if they become the boogeyman lurking behind a door that we’re terrified to open. That’s not a good thing.

So how do we get around this?

Pick a good time to explore the stickier side of things; I would caution against the evening, when, as I mentioned above, bringing up tough feelings can agitate you and make it more difficult to fall asleep. Keep the environment quiet, comforting and safe, with gentle music in the background, if that suits you. I like mid-morning time and natural light, with a cup of tea or cacao or anything else that feels soothing.

Choose your anchor: your breath, a bodily sensation like tingling in your hands, a constant sound in the the background…even lofi music from YouTube.

If you feel too drifty, keep your eyes open to help ground you. Perhaps focus them on an object that brings you peace, such as the photograph of a loved one or an image of a peaceful place.

Give yourself a calm opportunity to explore complicated emotions.

Breathe deeply and pay attention to gripping or tightness in your body, especially forehead, jaw, neck, shoulders and belly. Consciously release any areas that seem to clench as you go along.

And then allow whatever comes up to come up. Observe them…and then let them go. No need to analyze or justify. Imagine that you’re made of Teflon and those uncomfortable images slide off you.

If needed, sit further away from them. When the intensity gets too high, you might need space, so imagine that they are flowing past as if you’re on the bank of a river and they are the leaves that float by on the surface of the water. They come and they go and you breathe deeply through it all.

As you practice, maintain your focus the best that you can. The point of your focus is not the thoughts, it’s the breath or whatever other anchor you might have chosen. This way, the thoughts move independently and subside as smoothly as they appeared. If you find yourself getting stuck, return to your anchor and remind yourself that in this moment, you are safe.

IMPORTANT: If your thoughts are tied to trauma or the intensity seems unbearable, please seek out the help of someone professionally qualified to help you deal with them. Mindfulness meditation is a wonderful tool, but sometimes it’s not enough.

“Detached”: Time-Out in Third-Person

As an addendum to my post where I wrote about using third-person language in meditation to help keep distance between yourself and your thoughts, I wanted to revisit this method for everyday life.

While in that post I alluded to using third-person descriptions on stressful days, it’s really worth emphasizing the utility of creating space throughout the day.

To sum up that post, I mentioned a mindfulness technique suggested by meditation teacher Jeff Warren in which when we find ourselves being swept away in thought, we describe what’s happening in “third-person” language and play the role of an observer.

But as I said in that post, why limit that to meditation sessions? In fact, you could argue that it is even more important to bring that type of gentle detachment to the things that ordinarily set us off in our daily lives, whether it be with family, at work or anywhere.

I would say that so much of my anxiety has stemmed from an inability to maintain perspective about the trigger. Noticing when I’m getting carried away and then describing the situation as something that is happening to another person — similar to the way a newcaster might report on an event in a calm, informative manner — helps loosen its grip on me.

The ability to step back and detach from the situation is kind of the name of the game in terms of reducing stress levels, isn’t it?

By narrating the circumstances around your stressors, we make space: “FranticShanti felt a little ill when she saw that the letter in her mailbox was from her landlady. She expected this to be about a rent increase…and she was right. Another $200 per month.”

Third-person language gives us the space we need to tackle our stressors without getting pulled into them.

That telling offers some space. It doesn’t change the situation, simply presents what’s happening in an unemotional manner. Then following up with some trouble-shooting helps soothe my agitation: “This will require a review of her finances, but as she calculated with last year’s rent increase, she can still absorb this additional amount. Things will probably be okay. She takes some deep breaths and feels into her hands and feet.”

Not only can you calmly describe the situation, but you can describe yourself engaging in self-soothing techniques as you work out your next steps.

It is quite effective in slowing down racing thoughts, particularly if you’re in a place where you can speak out load, as hearing yourself describing things can be even more grounding.

As with other simple grounding techniques, this may seem a little contrived or simplistic, but it might be just enough to bring you out of your head and into the here and now — cool, calm and collected.

Navigating Anxious Moments with Breath and Muscle Release

When you can’t control your anxious thoughts, what can you use to get a foothold on stability?

This was the issue for me for years, if not decades. During panicky times, I’d close my eyes at night and see a montage of fleeting images like a rapidly changing patchwork quilt that I couldn’t stop. It was kind of like at the beginning of a Marvel movie, where images whiz by you. Except that for me there were no superheroes or rush of excited anticipation.

This is not an ad for Marvel. The first seven seconds of this 11-second clip represent what I used to “see” during middle-of-the-night panic sessions: just flashing images passing before me.

Anxiety meant being blanketed by nausea and fear that blocked my view of reality. I couldn’t see past any of it because the sensation was all-encompassing. Mindful grounding has enabled me to get a hold on the edge of that blanket and pull it up ever so slightly to let some light in.

That was accomplished by two simple things that I could control in the midst of everything else I couldn’t:
1) changing my breathing pattern
2) identifying and releasing muscle tension

I might not have been able to slow the thoughts, decrease my heartrate or relieve the nausea directly…but the combination of the breath and relaxing my muscles provided a path that led around those things and quietly affected them behind the scenes.

First, start with your breath

Bring your attention to the breath and consciously slow it down. Start by trying to make your inhales and exhales the same length, adding a second-or-two pause in between. Depending on your level of anxiety, this may take some time if your breathing has been rapid and shallow. Any slowing is helpful, especially at the beginning. Be compassionate and patient with yourself.

A hand on the belly makes it easier to focus on breathing into the abdomen.

I find it easiest to deepen the inhale first, drawing the breath into the belly. Placing a hand on the belly helps keep your focus there as the sense of touch supports grounding. Try a deep inbreath, pause, and a lengthened outbreath. Blowing out through pursed lips helps control the air flow and draw out the exhale. An exhale that is longer that an inhale helps slow your heartrate. Belly-breathing makes a big difference.

Aim for an inbreath of 4 counts, pause and hold for 2 counts, exhale for 6 counts.

Some guidance recommends that you place one hand on the chest while you have the other on your belly. However, in my experience, if you are particularly anxious it’s helpful to keep your focus off a racing heart. Keeping your hand on your belly is enough.

Next, relax muscular tension

Releasing the tension in your body will help calm you. We often don’t realize how much tension we’re holding until we mindfully scan our bodies.

Stretch in whatever way feels good. Don’t be afraid to take up some space.

First, streeeetch the way you’d stretch after waking or when you’ve been stuck in one position for a while. Imagine you’re a sleepy bear coming out of hibernation. Too often when stressed we crumple in and hunch over — opening up through a stretch may signal to the body that it’s safe to come out.

Then, roll your shoulders forwards and back. Gently roll your head in a front semicircle, ear to ear, paying attention to how it feel to move in that way. So many of us hold tension in the neck and shoulders and we squeeze muscles there without realizing it. Spend some time loosening up these areas.

Feel into your face. Raise and lower your brows several times. Relax the muscles around the eyes. Open and close your mouth and wiggle your jaw. Clenching in this area can cause headaches so try to release tightness here.

Turn your attention to the rest of your body. Are you knotted anywhere? Simply the process of noticing where your muscles are tightening can change your focus from anxious thoughts in your head to sensations in your body, keeping you present and less likely to get trapped by fears.

Aim for progress, not perfection. This is a learning process, so don’t wait for anxiety to reach a peak before starting. Practice when you’re calm so you know what a lengthened breath and relaxed state feels like in your body.

Those of us who have lived with anxiety would love to hang out in peaceful bliss all the time, but that’s not the reality of life. However, nurturing calm through techniques such as breathwork and muscle relaxation lessens the distress of anxiety-provoking situations and helps us find a sense of comfort within our discomfort.