The Grounding Grind

Probably why Saints fold their Laundry

As I sat slumped at the dining table, fretting about not meditating enough, Aunt Selvi peered over her glasses at me with her trademark half-amused, half-exasperated expression. “You’re stressed about not meditating? Let me get this straight—you’re anxious because you’re not doing the thing meant to reduce anxiety?”

I nodded sheepishly.

She sipped her tea thoughtfully. “You know, meditation isn’t the only way to ground yourself. Half the time, when I sit cross-legged to meditate, I just doze off. And you—you’re too busy trying to ‘achieve’ grounding to realize you’re missing the point. Sit, let me tell you something.”

Grounding, as Aunt Selvi explained, is about bringing yourself into the present moment. It’s about anchoring your thoughts so they don’t flit about like sparrows—distracted by every shiny thing in the distance. “Think of grounding as pressing the ‘pause’ button in your mind,” she said, gesturing to the sparrows near the windowsill. “You don’t need chants, mats, or hours of stillness. It’s simpler than that.”

She glanced at me folding and unfolding the same napkin. “See that? You’re already halfway there. Mundane tasks can be grounding if you focus on them.”

Take washing dishes, for example. The warm water, the clinking sounds, the circular motion of scrubbing—it’s practically therapy, she insisted. “I tell you, there’s no Zen master quite like an unwashed pile of dishes.”

Cooking, too, can work wonders. “When you chop vegetables, smell the spices, or stir a bubbling pot of curry, you’re right there in that moment. And at the end, you get a meal. Meditation doesn’t feed you, does it?”

She had a point.

Aunt Selvi is not one for intense workouts (“Sweat is overrated,” she always says), but she believes in the power of a good walk. “You don’t have to trek through the Himalayas. Just walk around the block. Notice the crunch of gravel, the wind in your hair, the barking of that dog that hates everyone—especially you. It’s about being present, not walking with purpose.”

She chuckled. “The only purpose you need is to move your feet and let your mind catch up.”

“Now, you love to doodle,” she said, pointing to my half-finished sketches. “Why don’t you do that instead of trying to meditate? Sketching pulls you into the present. Whether it’s a masterpiece or a doodle of your neighbor’s lopsided nose, it doesn’t matter. The act of creating grounds you.”

I admitted she was right again.

“Even this,” she said, raising her cup of tea, “is grounding. You’re sipping chai, sitting with me, and we’re talking. You’re not stuck in your head worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. If you paid attention, you’d notice the steam curling off the cup, the warmth in your hands, and the way every sip feels like a hug. But no—you’re too busy worrying about whether you’re spiritual enough.”

She raised her eyebrows at me, daring me to argue.

“That’s the problem with you people,” she continued, wagging a finger. “You overthink everything. Grounding isn’t about forcing yourself to meditate or tick boxes on some spiritual checklist. It’s about finding what works for you and doing it without guilt. Go with the flow. If you fall asleep while meditating, then maybe your body needed rest. And if washing dishes or walking or doodling brings you peace, then that’s your meditation.”

At its heart, grounding is about connecting with the here and now. Whether you’re scrubbing pans, sipping chai, walking in the park, or doodling on napkins, the key is to let those moments be enough.

“Stop complicating things,” Aunt Selvi said with a sigh. “Life’s messy. Go with the flow. Find your grounding in the everyday, and stop stressing about not being a saint. Even saints probably fold their laundry!”

She leaned back with a satisfied smile as if she’d just imparted the wisdom of the ages. And maybe she had.

And I picked my linc pen and doodled away sharing the doodle for #inktober52Aquarius.

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