6 Elul: Grounding Ourselves In Nature

At AJR’s fall retreat, I attended sessions with Rabbi Bronwen Mullin, and she shared the concept of “grounding,” which means having contact with the earth–dirt and grass–against our bare skin. It makes sense. Thirty-five years ago, as a nursing mother, I was told to hold my son against my breast with his skin touching mine to help with bonding and a sense of security.

We humans came from the ground; it’s no accident that the Hebrew word for human is adam, and the Hebrew word for earth or ground is adamah. Bereshit 2:7 reads:

וַיִּ֩יצֶר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהִ֜ים אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֗ם עָפָר֙ מִן־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה וַיִּפַּ֥ח בְּאַפָּ֖יו נִשְׁמַ֣ת חַיִּ֑ים וַיְהִ֥י הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ חַיָּֽה׃

“Adonai our God formed the Human from the loose dirt of the earth, blowing into his nostrils the breath of life: the Human became a living being.”

Remember being a kid and running around the grass barefoot, especially in the summer? If you grew up in a city full of concrete, you may not have had that opportunity. Somewhere along the line, in our Western world, grass and dirt became synonymous with germs and schmootz, things we definitely didn’t want to be ingesting, at least on purpose. As conscientious parents, we sterilized everything we gave our babies and toddlers, and then turned around to watch them eat a bug or the mud pie they just created. And they lived to tell the story.

We know there’s something healing about connecting with the earth. Every year I look forward to spring and warm weather to get out in my modest garden and play in the dirt. I don’t always remember to put gardening gloves on, and that’s ok. Just the idea of digging, of putting a seed in the soil to watch it (hopefully) grow, wondering if I’m growing expensive bunny and squirrel food, and what I’ll get to actually eat from my garden. 

And the garden has its own ideas. Groundcherries and tomatoes reseed themselves every year, and next to the compost bin are as-yet-unidentified squash plants and a slew of tomato seedlings. It’s a testament to what happens when we let nature take its course.

I decided to spend a few minutes a day on the grass with bare feet, and it feels wonderful. Rebbe Nachman of Breslov was a great believer in spending time in nature, and his prayer begins, “Grant me the ability to be alone; may it be my custom to go outdoors each day among the trees and grass – among all growing things and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer, to talk with the One to whom I belong.” (AJWS on Sefaria.org)

May we be blessed to stay connected to the ground, and to be physically grounded while our souls soar.

—

Rabbi Susan Elkodsi received rabbinic ordination from the Academy for Jewish Religion (AJR) in May of 2015 and has been spiritual leader of the Malverne Jewish Center since August of 2015. Additionally, she provides pastoral and rabbinic services to local rehab and assisted living facilities. Her writing has appeared on JewishSacredAging.com, and she has presented workshops for Limmud, NY, for AJR and in the community, on ethical wills and spiritual legacies. 

In 2019 Rabbi Elkodsi received a Rabbinic Certificate in Gerontology and Palliative Care from the Wurzweiler School of Social work at Yeshiva University, and takes advantage of their continuing education programs relating to aging and end-of-life issues. 

She is passionate about helping Baby Boomers and older adults to find meaning and purpose in their lives within the context of Jewish tradition and teachings, and as part of a Jewish community, however they see themselves. 

A knitter and weaver who loves to spin her own yarn, her essay about “Spinning, Knitting and Judaism” was published in The Knit Vibe by Vickie Howell in 2019. She and her husband David have two adult children.