6 Ways to Ground Yourself Before You Grow Again

There’s something quietly profound about this time of year. Autumn doesn’t ask us to bloom or to begin again. It simply asks us to return to the roots – to rest, to release, to be still. 

In a world that rushes us toward constant progress, grounding can feel unfamiliar – even uncomfortable. But before we grow again, we often need to pause, soften, and find our footing. 

A few weeks ago, something small but significant happened in my garden. A fir tree that had stood tall for years was cut back – quite dramatically. Not removed entirely, but stripped of its fullness. Where it once stood wide and bushy, almost like a shield between the garden and the rest of the world, now it looked sparse, exposed. Different. 

I didn’t realise how attached I was to that tree until it changed. It had been a kind of presence – a quiet constant. And when it lost its fullness, something in me felt the same. 

But the tree wasn’t gone. Its roots were still there. Its shape had changed, but its essence hadn’t. And something about that hit me deeply: we can be stripped back, changed, altered – and still be standing. Still rooted. Still quietly, stubbornly alive. 

That moment became a quiet lesson: before I could move forward, I needed to re-ground. Not rush to replace what was lost. Not distract myself. But stand still, take a breath, and ask: what does this space need now? 

Here are six ways to ground yourself – emotionally, energetically, and physically – before you grow into whatever’s next. 

Acknowledge What You’ve Been Carrying 

We tend to move from one thing to the next without taking inventory of all we’ve held. But before you go forward, take a quiet moment to look back – not to dwell, but to honour. 

Ask yourself: 

What has this past year asked of me? What am I still holding that’s weighing me down? 

Maybe it’s a relationship that changed. A habit that stopped serving you. A version of yourself you no longer feel connected to. Acknowledge it. Let it be real. Let it take up space. 

Even trees drop their leaves without shame. 

Create a Rhythm, Not a Routine 

Routines are about control. Rhythms are about flow. 

Instead of trying to structure your day rigidly, try tuning into a more organic rhythm. What time of day do you feel most alert? Most tired? When do you crave quiet? Movement? Stillness? 

Let your life move like music: sometimes slow, sometimes soft, sometimes steady. 

This is how we begin to ground – not by forcing life into shape, but by listening to its natural tempo. 

Tend to Your Physical Space Like a Garden 

After the fir tree was cut back, I started noticing other parts of the garden. Weeds I hadn’t pulled. Soil that needed nourishing. Corners that hadn’t seen light in years. 

The same is true of our homes, our rooms, our desks. Physical grounding creates emotional grounding. You don’t have to do a full transformation – just choose one small thing: a drawer, a windowsill, a bedside table. 

Clear it. Care for it. Make it feel calm. 

You deserve to exist in a space that supports you – not drains you. 

Spend Time With the Ground Itself 

This might sound obvious, but being on the ground – feet in grass, shoes off, sitting on the earth, touching a tree – has a literal grounding effect on the nervous system. 

Nature doesn’t demand anything of you. It doesn’t care if you’re behind, or tired, or unsure. It just is – and it invites you to just be, too. 

Take your morning tea to the garden. Stand under a tree. Watch the leaves fall without trying to attach meaning. You’re allowed to just witness the world without fixing anything. 

Let Stillness Be Enough 

Sometimes we think if we’re not actively ‘healing’ or ‘working on ourselves’, we’re not doing enough. But stillness is work. Rest is work. Quiet is healing. 

Let yourself be still. Not as a pause before the next thing, but as a valid, valuable state on its own. 

Stillness is where clarity begins to rise. It's where roots go deeper. 

Accept That Not Everything Needs Fixing 

We often mistake grounding for solving – but they’re not the same. 

Grounding isn’t about fixing your life. It’s about coming back into it – fully, gently, honestly. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s not what you imagined. 

Just like the tree in my garden – changed, yes. Thinned out, yes. But still rooted. Still growing. A little more exposed, a little less certain – but no less alive. 

So ground yourself not with the pressure to transform, but with the permission to be where you are. 

Just Remember...