Hippie Me

There’s something about bare feet on the earth that reminds me who I am.

Not the woman rushing through emails, meetings, and responsibilities. Not the mom, therapist, business owner, the planner, the fixer of problems. Just me. A little wild. A little messy. Hair probably unwashed, feet definitely dirty, heart wide open.

Some people call it grounding. I call it coming home.

When my bare feet press into the dirt, the grass, the sand, something inside me exhales. The noise quiets. The world slows down just enough for me to remember that life isn’t meant to be perfectly polished. It’s meant to be felt.

I like the feeling of sun on my skin and wind moving through my messy hair. I like the way the earth doesn’t care if my hair is brushed or if my clothes match. Nature just welcomes me as I am.

And then there’s the moon.

The excitement of it rising slowly into the sky like a quiet promise. The way it lights up the night just enough to remind me that magic still exists. I’ve always been a little in awe of it, standing outside barefoot, looking up, feeling small and somehow completely connected at the same time.

Some nights I step outside just to see it. Shoes off. Phone down. Feet in the dirt.

Face tilted toward the sky.

Breath in. Breath out.

I let the earth carry the stress for a moment. I let the moon remind me that life moves in cycles... that darkness isn’t the end of anything. It’s just part of the rhythm.

There’s a little hippie in me that refuses to disappear. The girl who believes love matters more than perfection. The woman who knows that sometimes the best therapy is sunlight, dirt under your feet, and standing outside under the moon feeling wildly alive.

So if you see me with messy hair and bare feet, staring at the sky, don’t worry.

I’m not lost.

I’m grounding.