We're driving on the country roads of northern Michigan.
The red vinyl seats have a thin layer of dust from the open windows and gravel roads, but we don't care. It's summer and we’re going "up north" for two whole weeks to a place with no electricity. No running water. No parents. Just Grandma B, her LTD, and a wooden trailer full of everything we'd need.
Every day was about the same.
Breakfast. Work in the yard for a few hours, chopping trees and clearing brush from the ever encroaching forest. An early lunch. Then into town to spend a few hours at the crystal clear lake. Back home for an afternoon rest. Then dinner, followed by another trip into town for a Bob’s Ice Cream cone we ate sitting by the glass-like lake. Finally, back home to burn the brush and firewood we'd chopped that morning.
And while we sat by the fire, grandma would tell us stories. We'd stare at the stars, and listen to the silver boom box.
It was heaven.
On Sundays those D-cell batteries got a workout as we tuned in for America's Top 40 with Casey Kasem. Rooting for our favorite songs and enjoying hours of music that would imprint itself in our consciousness for the rest of our lives.
I can still hear his voice. Maybe you can too. An old school broadcasting baritone that you could almost touch through the airwaves. Like he was talking just to you. A quiet smile in every word.
But the part I remember most was the end. After you cheered for your song and danced around. Or grumbled a little because your favorite came in 2nd or 3rd, and danced anyway…
He'd slow down. Drop his voice a little. And read a letter from one of our fellow listeners, before he dropped his iconic close...
"Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars."
It was so much more than a catchphrase or a gimmick. It was spiritual instruction. A single-sentence guide that kept you humble while calling you to something more.
In some ways, Casey taught me how to dream. And I hope that you, dear reader, will find some measure of hope and optimism every time you read one of my messages. If you do, you have Casey to thank.
Maybe you listened to the Top 40 with me. Or maybe one of your anchors was a family vacation spot. Or special meal. Or trip to the candy store.
It doesn't matter what it is. I know it's there...even if it got buried in a busy life.
A song. A smell. A season change.
Sticky skin peeling off vinyl car seats. The smell of cut grass and gasoline. The first day of school. The crackle of a fire on a certain kind of night.
An involuntary time warp. Not to a different time so much as a different part of yourself.
A version of you who dreamed more freely. When it felt like you could reach for anything.
Grounded in the mundane routine of days that seemed unspecial at the time, even though they were anything but.
Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars.
It's easy to think that that special place inside you was a temporary state reserved only for children.
But it's much more than a memory. It's a part of you. And yes, it can go dormant if you only access it in fleeting moments.
But that doesn't mean it isn't there.
Those nostalgic moments are anchors. They're not meant to be relived as a fantasy.
They are meant to connect us to a part of ourselves that is open and available to something more.
Childlike curiosity coupled with adult discipline.
You can always connect because that essence is always there inside you.
It's our spiritual anchors that wake it up and bring it to life.
We were never meant to live our lives in the past. Waiting for special moments to happen so we can remember to feel alive again.
We need anchors in our everyday lives that keep us grounded, but also open.
For me, it's morning pages, a good cup of coffee, and some time with ancient texts and higher thought.
Maybe it's yoga for you. Or a morning walk. Or meditation.
It could be quiet time before bed as you wind down, putting the day's anxieties to rest.
Whatever it is, don't lose touch.
These are the unspecial things that are anything but.
And I can't speak for you, but when I lose touch with my anchors, things get weird…fast.
I drift from center.
Little things start mattering more than they should. Eating bandwidth in my brain. Too many open tabs. Not enough time.
And so it is that the unspecial things make our lives special — often without even noticing. They bring a precious part of ourselves to life, not as fantasy, or memory, but as living dreams and beautiful presence.
The anchors keep our feet on the ground so we can reach for the stars.
Back at that campfire…lying on our backs, staring at a pristine night sky. We never could have known how deeply those anchors were being set. Which is part of the beauty of it.
The difference today is being intentional about keeping them close. Because that’s how we stay connected to the timeless parts of ourselves.
To keep remembering who we are. And who we are becoming.
This month for your Full Moon Ritual, you can do two simple things to feel more grounded, and more open to possibility.
Find your anchors. The times, places, smells or memories that bring you back to the simple version of you. Name them. Spend some time with them.
Then, while you’re listening to the sound healing, let the scene come alive. Time warp wherever or whenever your mind takes you. Let yourself feel however it makes you feel. Just notice. The lucid state induced by the sound healing will make this easy.Choose one small daily practice that helps anchor you to that grounded and free state. Keep it small and simple so you’ll do it. It will come easier day by day, I promise.
Let this be your spiritual anchor for the month.
I’d love to hear what your anchor is, so comment below and tell me all about it.
Until then, do what Casey told us all those years ago…
Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars.
Peace,
Nick
The Mystic Next Door
Comments