Grounded - a personal reflection on the Spring Equinox and the COVID-19 pandemic

In the last week in the UK, we have all been grounded. Our government has told us not to leave home, except for essentials. The other meaning of the word grounded is being fully present in our body and connected to the earth. I'd like to share with you some of my journey over the last few weeks from a place of fear and panic to being grounded in being grounded!

Just over two weeks ago, a few days after my husband started to suffer with a fever, a headache, and dizziness, I started to feel unwell with similar symptoms. One minute I was burning up, the next shivering. My head pounded and I felt as if I was floating, like my head wasn't really connected to my body. These symptoms continued intermittently for about ten days. Whether or not they were symptoms of the coronavirus, we do not know.

In the middle of my illness, we had to take the decision to close the church building and stop gatherings on the premises. I worried about the safety and well-being of all those who come to church, and I was also concerned about members of my family who are in their seventies and who didn't seem to be taking on board what social distancing and self-isolating mean in practice, although I am pleased to say that they are doing so now.

I started to experience panic attacks – they were short-lived, mercifully, but very intense. I was gripped by what I can only describe as existential terror – my heart felt like it was being squeezed and it was difficult to catch my breath. Whether these were part of the symptoms of my illness or just related to the stress of the unfolding situation, I don't know. Perhaps both.

During my illness, my personal, individual spiritual practice went right out of the window. I knew it would help, but I couldn't summon the motivation. It is my custom to start my day with a period of spiritual practice. I usually start with a short body prayer, with actions that mirror the words, and then I might do some kundalini yoga or I might simply sing and dance for a few minutes. These are all practices that help me feel grounded and set me up for the day.

While I was ill, I wasn't doing my morning practice, and I wasn't feeling grounded in my body and connected to the earth. I was able to find some comfort in reading poetry. My favourite poem is 'The peace of wild things' by Wendell Berry. Two lines from this poem in particular became particularly poignant for me, “I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water.”

I realised that the existential terror, which had gripped my heart during the panic attacks, was 'forethought of grief' – the terror of losing loved ones. And, as Wendell Berry says, wild things, wild creatures do not do this, they are fully present with the still water. They are fully present in their bodies and fully connected to the earth.

The turning point for me, when I was able to rediscover my presence in my body and my connection to the earth, came at the Spring Equinox. The themes of Spring Equinox are balance, with the brief equilibrium of night and day, and blossoming, the Spring flowers blooming with the surge of energy as the earth reawakens from winter rest. I didn't connect with either of those things – I felt completely off balance, and I certainly didn't feel like I was blooming and blossoming.

I am part of a Druid Grove, who have been holding rituals to celebrate the wheel of the year festivals in Heaton Park for the last decade. The Spring Equinox is known as Alban Eilir, the Light of the Earth, in the Druid tradition. On Saturday 21st March a very small group of Druids gathered for their ritual, maintaining appropriate physical distancing throughout I am assured. Those of us who were unable to join the gathering were invited to perform a solo ritual in our own spaces at the same time, so that we were energetically connected with the grove.

I performed the solo ritual in my garden. I set up my markers for the quarters – a stone for earth in the north, a stick of incense for air in the east, a lantern for fire in the south, and a shell full of water for water in the west. I cast my circle and called the quarters, feeling the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, sprinkling some of the water on my head and feeling the earth beneath my feet. I sat in the centre of the circle visualising the grove and my friends. By the end of the ritual I felt fully grounded. I felt the peace of wild things and the presence of still water.

I was also able to recognise, that, although this is an unusual Spring Equinox, the themes of balancing and blossoming are indeed playing out in the world. What is happening now, with this crisis, is a global rebalancing, and a blossoming of kindness and creativity. As Lynn Ungar says in her poem, 'Imagine', the opportunity of this calamity is a great awakening. Everyone I speak to has stories to share of kindness among friends, neighbours and strangers. Those of us whose work centres on people gathering together face to face have had to get creative quickly to continue gathering in different ways. There has been a blossoming of art, poetry, music, within our Unitarian community and everywhere.

I do not want to gloss over the difficulties of the pandemic; there are very real pains, losses and sorrows. For my part, I am now able to see it as an invitation to live a simpler life. Over the next week I invite you to find the things that ground you – that help you to feel fully present in your body and connected to the earth - and to do them every day.