Tag: grounding

  • Author’s Note

    For me–it’s weather.

    There are quiet days where everything feels distant, muted, hard to reach. And then there are moments where everything hits at once–fast, loud, overwhelming. Thoughts spiral, emotions intensify, and it becomes difficult to tell whether the storm is passing through… or coming from within.

    For a long time, I thought the goal was to avoid those storms.

    But the truth is–they remind me that I can still feel.

    That I’m still here.

    That I’m still alive.

    This piece sits in that tension–between numbness and chaos, between drifting and grounding.

    Because while the storms keep me aware… there are also people who keep me anchored.

    And sometimes, that’s what makes surviving the storm possible.

    Rowan Evans


    Person standing near a lighthouse during a storm, symbolizing emotional chaos and grounding support
    Even in the storm—
    something steady can keep you from drifting.

    Storm Systems
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    My mind—
    it works in weather systems,
    sometimes the fog rolls in.

    Other times—
    the lightning flashes,
    thunder rumbles
    and my thoughts twist.

    They spin and turn—
    something cyclonic.

    And when the twist tightens,
    and the spin quickens—
    I leave nothing but destruction
    in my wake.

    But I guess
    you can call me a storm chaser,
    the way I chase these storms—
    searching for feeling,
    just wanting to feel anything.

    Because anything
    is better than numb.

    It’s a reminder
    I’m alive.

    Honestly—
    I forget sometimes,
    when I’m feeling
    pretty robotic.

    Life can get chaotic.
    It overwhelms.
    It can be too much
    if you can’t
    center yourself.

    You got to go
    with the flow,
    too—

    even when the flow
    is a storm.

    For me?
    That’s where the storms help—
    they keep me aware.

    And then—her voice,
    keeps me
    firmly planted here,

    so I don’t drift and sway,
    and just float away—

    her voice
    a lighthouse
    in all this weather.


    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Author’s Note

    This piece came from that disorienting in-between space—when your thoughts scatter, your body feels unreal, and you’re not sure how you got there. Sometimes it isn’t logic that brings you back. Sometimes it’s a voice. A laugh. A presence that reminds you who you are.


    A person sitting on a hospital floor under fluorescent lights, surrounded by sterile white walls, with a subtle warm glow suggesting grounding and emotional return.
    Sometimes all it takes is a voice to bring you back.

    Grounded
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Sterile white walls,
    fluorescent bulbs
    light the halls—
    I stumble
    and fall,
    sprawled
    across the floor.

    What was I
    even here for?

    Vision snaps.
    Vision blurs.
    Voices heard.

    I’m not alone.
    It’s me
    my thoughts
    and I—

    Flicker and fade,
    between here
    and anywhere.

    Voices echo.
    Voices linger.

    Touch—
    Soft and grounding,
    it brings me back
    to myself.

    Slowly. Blinking.
    It’s her voice…

    Her voice echoes,
    and reverberates.
    A giggle. A laugh.

    And I’m back.


    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]