From the Earth We Came: The Spiritual and Scientific Power of Touching the Ground
One thing I’ve learnt in life, is never doubt Mr Qurban’s adventure spots
It was a night out with one of my friends, Kabir. He called me up, “Yo, Asad, let’s go to Chilliwack.”
“Alright, bet,” I said. I jumped in buddy’s car and off we drove. You see, for me and Kabir, we didn’t need a five‑day itinerary in advance. It was more like: mandem call each other up “Are you free?” “Yeah?” “Alright cool.” Off we dip.
And so that’s what we did. We drove to Chilliwack and made our way to a forest. This forest had quite an interesting story that I won’t get deep into, but I recall one specific moment. It was around 2 AM. Kabir and I were slumped up on two camping chairs, looking out at the sky. It was calm, peaceful like nature was ready to facilitate the very next interaction.
Kabir grabbed my attention, placed his hand on the ground, and said, “Bro, this is it…” I looked at him, confused, and asked why he was touching the ground. He responded again, “Bro, this is it… the ground… where we belong.” He insisted I do the same. So off I went, a bit nervous I’m someone who likes to keep myself clean. My first thought was, “Man, it’s just dirt. There’s no water around. How do I clean my hands?” After a few more insists from Kabir, I placed my hand on the ground.
Mother Earth never fails to tell us how beautiful it is
Deep breath. I touched the damp soil, felt the random textures, and everything slowed down. The noise around me disappeared. I couldn’t hear the fire crackling anymore. The random group near us… suddenly… stopped talking. And I felt something. Touching the ground wasn’t just relaxing. It was embracing. As my hands held the ground, it felt like I was hugging an old friend. The calm was immediate, deep, and physical like an overheated engine suddenly shutting off. I felt heat radiate away from my body, internal temperatures dropping, the whole system cooling down. There was no mental effort here; it wasn’t “trying to relax.” My body just did it the moment I made contact.
That’s when it hit me: “Dude… this is it the ground, or al‑ard (لأرض) in Arabic.” This is what we are. We were made of the ground’s clay, and when we die, we bury ourselves in the same land. I felt changed after that moment. My hands didn’t feel dirty anymore they felt good. Soil, sand, leaves, grass deeply engrossed between my fingers felt… peaceful. Calm.
It was a cool opportunity that crossed my path, and I took it for granted something to cross off the bucket list and move on.
This is what happens when Muslims leave their prayer mat at home
Fast‑forward a few months. My nervous system started to crack because of life. For months I had been involved in extremely high‑output work through my creative projects, my academic journey, and constant reflections and personal encounters. The emotional intensity and the load of both personal and professional responsibilities had me running “hot” almost all the time. Feeling fried mentally and physically became a regular state, not an exception.
That pushed me to find ways to calm and regulate my nervous system. The whole idea of calming down stopped being a luxury and turned into a need for survival. I immersed myself in spiritual practices and worldly activities. I found some that worked, and some that didn’t.
This is when I started to notice patterns recurring moments I hadn’t thought much about until I asked myself, why?
The SFU MSA offers prayer facilities on all 3 campuses & religious resources to support all Muslims on campus at SFU.
One of the earliest discoveries happened in the prayer room on campus. After making wudu, I’d end up walking a few more steps barefoot than I needed to. I’d go farther than the route between the wudu area and the prayer room. I’d move slowly across the corridor floors, feeling the cool matte tile underneath, the coarse carpets leading to the prayer room, and the thick plushy mats inside it. I never planned this, but I often found myself doing it and every time I did, my internal pace slowed without any conscious thought.
One day, I decided to take it a step further. I’m someone who actively works on removing my biases to make a correct judgment. So I challenged the assumption: what if this only happened in places I’m comfortable in? I tried walking barefoot on the street. The feeling was immediately intuitive like something in my body already knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Every road, bump, stone, and patch of pavement had its own distinct personality. It wasn’t just texture; it was like each surface was talking back, telling its story of years of weather and thousands of footsteps. This completely shifted my perspective. It wasn’t just me speaking to the earth it felt like a two‑way conversation. I was listening, and the ground was speaking loudly.
Another time I was sitting alone in a park. My eyes caught the grass and it felt like it was calling me. So there went my hands to the grass. The coolness, the slight moisture, the faint smell of green all grounding in their own way. This was different from the street softer, gentler, but still alive with its own character.
Unpopular Opinion: befriend places of nature just like you would with humans
Now I knew something real was going on. So I became intentional. I drove to the outskirts of town, went to my best‑friend forest, and placed my hands on the ground again no agenda, no intention, no ritual, just instinct. That’s when my body responded without warning. The fattest tears of my life streamed down my face. There was no conscious memory that triggered it, no narrative in my head, no clear reason. It felt like the ground pulled something out of me a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying and released it all. I didn’t explain it; I didn’t even try. I let it happen. I cried so much my eyes hurt and my beard got soaked.
In that surrender, one line kept rising to my tongue:
حَسْبُنَا ٱللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ ٱلْوَكِيلُ
Hasbunallāhu wa ni‘mal wakīl
Allah is sufficient for us and He is the best Disposer of affairs
(Qur’an 3:173).
I didn’t plan to say it. It just arrived the exact sentence my body needed to release and trust.
As I drove back home, I wondered: this had become too common a pattern. Why did my interaction with the ground bring out things inside me I never knew existed? It was a long ride home, and I started to dissect every piece of my life. Where else was I unintentionally interacting with the ground?
That’s when I realized the bed frame I owned left me more tired and stiff. So I occasionally moved to the floor for better rest. Over time, this became the norm until I got rid of the bed entirely. Sleeping closer to the ground felt more natural, more restorative, as if my body was realigning with something it had been missing. I woke up with real energy, not sluggishness or dread. I fell asleep faster. My body ached less. I felt reset.
What’s interesting is that none of this began as a planned grounding practice. Barefoot walking, hand‑to‑earth moments, floor sleeping they became simple rhythms in my life. I wasn’t doing them to “try an experience.” I did them because they felt right, and somehow my physical self kept leading me there.
That brought me to the next stage of the equation the why. Why did the ground do this to me? I dug into research and began piecing together the science, spirituality, and emotional truths behind it.
As always subhanAllah the Qur’an had the answer.
I found verse 55 in Surah Taha (20:55):
۞ مِنْهَا خَلَقْنَـٰكُمْ وَفِيهَا نُعِيدُكُمْ وَمِنْهَا نُخْرِجُكُمْ تَارَةً أُخْرَىٰ ٥٥
“From the earth We created you, and into it We will return you, and from it We will bring you back again.”
That verse reframed everything. It anchors three coordinates of a believer’s life: origin (minhā khalaqnākum), return (fīhā nu‘īdukum), and rising again (minhā nukhrijukum). Our daily sujūd rehearses this truth: forehead to earth, ego lowered, heart lifted.
لَا يُكَلِّفُ ٱللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا...
“Allah does not burden a soul beyond its capacity…
You are our Protector, so help us against the people who oppose the truth.”
(Surah Al‑Baqarah 2:286)
Grounding reminded me of that ayah in practice: do your part, then place the outcome with the One who holds the earth itself. Touching the ground wasn’t just a pleasant sensory experience it was a living reminder of our origin, our return, and our resurrection. This connection ran deeper than the nervous system; it touched the soul’s memory of where it came from.
The science offered language for what I felt (names included, so you can dig deeper):
Earthing / Electrical balance Cardiologist Dr. Stephen Sinatra and collaborators (e.g., Gaétan Chevalier, Martin Sokal) reported that direct skin contact with the earth can reduce inflammation markers, improve sleep, and modulate cortisol by allowing electron transfer that balances charge (see Sinatra et al., Earthing studies).
Trauma regulation & bilateral stimulation Psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk, MD describes how rhythmic, left‑right stimulation helps integrate traumatic memories and settle the nervous system (cf. The Body Keeps the Score). Bilateral stimulation is operationalized in EMDR; neuroscientist Andrew Huberman, PhD has also explained how alternating stimulation and panoramic vision engage circuits that downshift arousal (Huberman Lab).
Parasympathetic / Vagus pathways Tactile pressure through the glabrous skin of the hands and feet activates A‑beta mechanoreceptors that project through the dorsal columns to brainstem nuclei influencing vagal tone (nucleus tractus solitarius). Increased vagal tone is associated with slower heart rate, improved digestion, and a subjective sense of safety; Huberman has popularized practical levers for this (long exhales, nasal breathing, peripheral vision), which pair naturally with grounding.
Somatic “hug” ; Deep, even pressure (think weighted blankets or pressing palms into soil) engages pressure receptors that signal safety to the limbic system, decreasing amygdala reactivity.
Present‑moment override Rich sensory input from varied textures competes with ruminative activity in the default mode network, pulling attention into the here‑and‑now and interrupting anxious loops.
And the analogy held: in electrical engineering, a circuit doesn’t run properly unless the whole system is grounded. Without grounding, it shorts, overheats, or fails. We’re the same. Without grounding, our systems overheat, misfire, or burn out.
For most of human history, our bodies were in constant contact with the earth sleeping on it, walking barefoot, touching it daily. Modern life has severed that connection, but our bodies and souls still remember. Grounding isn’t just a physical connection it’s communion. The earth holds stories, energy, memory; when we touch it, we’re in conversation with all of it.
“We are made from the ground and belong to the ground” a truth that is scientific, emotional, and Qur’anic all at once.
So here’s what I recommended:
Practice barefoot walking when safe local streets, parks, beaches, even clean corridors.
Engage your hands with natural surfaces soil, grass, stone, sand.
Set up indoor grounding spaces textured mats, containers with sand, soil, or pebbles.
Sleep closer to the ground by moving your mattress or a mat to the floor.
It doesn’t need to be grand. Even 2–3 minutes of contact between deep‑work blocks, as a grounding break, can reset your system.