When asked what anchors me in my writing, I think of Webster’s definitions of anchor, “a heavy object attached to a rope or chain, used to moor a vessel to the sea bottom” and “a person or thing that provides stability or confidence in an otherwise uncertain situation.” I don’t want to moor my writing to the bottom of the sea, although it does feel comforting to have a person or a thing that provides stability or confidence.

I prefer, however, to think of what grounds me rather than what anchors me, and a tree is, for me, the perfect image. Its roots go deep, providing solidity and nourishment, while its trunk and branches soar to the heavens, dancing in the wind while providing a higher perspective. A tree offers relationship with an entire community through the communication system of the mycelium. Its roots connect to other trees and denizens of the underworld. Its branches host birds and insects, and the tree is in a continual interrelationship with the soil, water,  sun, moon, and stars. It does not live alone in the world but is connected with everything around it, taking in nourishment and giving its gifts.

As the tree is grounded in soil, air, and light, my writing feels deeply grounded in my body, mind, and spirit.

I was privileged to be raised in a home where my body felt safe. I was loved and protected. I was part of a church community that allowed me to think of my world as more wide-reaching than my nuclear family and even beyond the earth on which I lived.

I was a dancer, so I learned to trust my body’s wisdom and express myself with it in creative and imaginative ways. My body has thus become a trusted ally in my writing. I listen to it, observe how my body relates to the world, and tell stories about who I am as I travel through this wild game of life.

I was fortunate to come into a family where learning was prized and encouraged. I was taught that thinking is fun and playing with ideas is delightful entertainment. From an early age, I was curious about why things happened to me and others and plumbed my depths to learn the lessons that hid just below the surface. As I grew in my experience, I found that what I learned was also helpful to others, and my writing is often an attempt to transmit this information. I try not to preach, but I trust that if I tell the right story, something may vibrate in the listener, and my gift will be received.

Although I have the skills to succeed in my earth plane activities, I am more interested in looking at the world from a mystical perspective in which everything is connected, everything is a piece of God or Source Energy, and there is only love.

These are not the commonly held beliefs of the consensual reality, but my spirit does not live by common consent or theology but by a deep knowing from my experience. This awareness is the air I breathe, the food that nourishes me, the water that flows through me, and the beauty surrounding me. This does not come from thoughts that I think but from my deep-felt sense that I am held in the lines of love as is every other entity, in form or not, conscious or not. My grounding in my spirit connections allows me to trust that what comes through my words is not simply my doing but the energy of something larger.

Of course, there are times when I feel stuck and forget, but this ground that supports my writing also supports my life. They are one and the same. When I feel lost, broken, powerless, and sad, I remember the tree. I remember its trust in growing from something tiny into a giant. I remember it is born and rooted in the dark yet emerges to follow the light. I remember that it lives not alone but in deep community. And I remember that it shares itself in life and death, and I bow down to my beloved teacher in gratitude.

What images ground you in your life?