Rooted in the Soil: Seasonal Grounding Techniques for May
By Mae — Herbalist. Healer. Your grandmother's remedies, backed by a nurse's knowledge. ·
The Shift of the Season
It’s May in Portland. If you’ve lived here as long as I have, you know this is a fickle month. One day the sun is coaxing the rhododendrons into a riot of color, and the next, a grey drizzle reminds us that the mountain snow is still melting. In my garden, the soil is finally warming up, but it’s still damp. It’s heavy. It’s alive.
In my years at OHSU, I learned to track the body’s physiological states—the racing pulse of a code blue, the shallow breath of someone in pain, the weary slump of a nurse at the end of a double shift. When I transitioned into herbalism, I started to notice that our internal weather often mirrors the world outside. Right now, as nature surges into growth, many of us feel a strange agitation. It’s like we’re trying to sprout leaves before we’ve secured our roots. That’s why we need to talk about grounding.
The Physiology of the Root
When we speak of “grounding” in the clinic or the classroom, people often think it’s just a flowery wellness term. But from a nursing perspective, grounding is essentially a way to down-regulate the sympathetic nervous system. When your thoughts are spiraling, your body is effectively signaling a threat—even if that threat is just a mounting inbox or a looming deadline. You are stuck in a “fight or flight” loop.
Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) views this through the lens of Qi (energy) rising too rapidly—often manifesting as heat in the head, insomnia, or that feeling of being “scattered.” To balance this, we look to the Earth element. We need to descend the energy. We need to move from the frantic sparks of the mind down into the stability of the marrow and the bone.
Earth-Medicine for Your Daily Life
I’m not a fan of complicated rituals. If you have to jump through hoops to feel calm, you’re just creating more stress. Here are three methods I use daily, refined by my time on the ward and my time with my mortar and pestle.
1. The Kidney-Point Press
In TCM, the Yongquan point (Kidney 1) is our primary gateway to the Earth’s energy. It’s located on the sole of the foot, about one-third of the way down from your toes. When I’m feeling particularly unmoored, I sit in my favorite chair—the one with the velvet cushion—and use my thumb to apply firm, steady pressure to this point for three minutes on each foot.
While I do this, I focus on the sensation of weight. I visualize my heels sinking through the floorboards and into the dark, cool dirt of the Pacific Northwest. It’s a sensory hack that signals to your brain: I am here. I am supported.
2. The Tea of Stability
In May, I keep a jar of dried Burdock root (Arctium lappa) in my pantry. Burdock is the ultimate grounding herb. Medicinally, it’s a brilliant alterative that helps clear metabolic waste, but energetically, it is a root. It spends its life pulling minerals from deep within the earth.
When I brew a decoction of burdock root—boiling it low and slow for twenty minutes—the process itself is a grounding exercise. You cannot rush a decoction. You have to watch the steam, smell the earthy, slightly bitter aroma, and wait. Sipping this warm, dark liquid is a physical reminder to bring your awareness back to your center.
3. Tai Chi’s “Horse Stance” (Ma Bu)
I have practiced Tai Chi for over thirty years. It is my non-negotiable. If you feel like your thoughts are flying away, pull your feet wider than your hips, bend your knees, and tuck your pelvis. Don't go too low if your knees aren't happy—this isn't about fitness, it's about structural integrity.
When you stand in Ma Bu, you are forced to engage your core and find your center of gravity. It is physically impossible to be flighty when your legs are doing the heavy lifting. Hold it for ten breaths. Feel the quads engage. That burn? That’s not just muscle; that’s your nervous system coming back online.
The Responsibility of the Rooted
Grounding isn’t about escaping your life. It’s about becoming a container sturdy enough to hold it. As a nurse, I saw so many beautiful people burn out because they tried to pour from a cup that wasn't resting on anything solid. They were hovering.
As we move through the rest of May, I want you to pay attention to your feet. Are they truly touching the ground, or are you perpetually poised to run? Take the time to plant your heels. Drink the tea. Feel the floor. You are a living thing, and like the trees here in Oregon, you need deep roots to weather the seasonal winds.
Does this resonate with where you’re at this month? I’d love to hear how you’re finding your footing in the middle of this busy season—or, if you’ve got a question about herbs that might support your specific constitution, leave a comment below. Let’s talk about it.