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Start feeling more grounded—in just a few minutes a day.
Download the free 7-Day Nature Reconnection Guide and begin gently regulating your nervous system through simple, research-informed practices—no forest required.
We respect your space.
No spam. No noise. Just occasional, grounding emails with reflections, practices, and seasonal insights. Unsubscribe anytime—no hard feelings.
Barefoot in the Grass: A Daily Walk Toward Wellbeing
Mae Whitburn
- May 20, 2025
Most mornings, before the world really wakes up, I slip on the dog's leash, tuck a jumper under my arm, and step outside barefoot.
My dog, Leo—part Labrador, part mystery—prances ahead, already nose-deep in the morning air. I pause on the dew-damp lawn, letting my feet sink into the cool grass, feeling the earth steady me.
I didn’t used to think this mattered. I used to rush. To drive. To check emails before breakfast. I didn’t know that something as small as ten minutes of bare feet on soil, or the simple act of walking a dog, could begin to loosen the knot of anxiety I sometimes carry in my chest.
But it does.
There’s something about the rhythm of Leo’s footsteps next to mine. Something about the birdsong at the edge of the bush, the breeze in the gum trees. These tiny interactions with the natural world—what researchers call "micro-restorative experiences"—have a real and measurable impact. Regular time in green spaces has been linked to reduced cortisol levels, lower blood pressure, and improvements in mood and cognitive function. A daily walk, especially one that includes a bit of grass underfoot or sunlight on the skin, is now being understood not just as pleasant—but as preventative mental health care.
I’ve noticed the difference. My sleep is better. My thinking, clearer. When I’m in that grass—even if just for a few minutes—it’s like my nervous system exhales.
There’s evidence now, too, that regular exposure to nature can improve immune function and reduce symptoms of depression and anxiety. But for me, it's less about statistics and more about sensation. It's the cool softness of the morning. The way Leo circles back when I pause. The moment I look up and notice the sky has shifted—new light, new clouds, new day.
It’s not a cure. It’s not a solution to everything. But it’s a part of the mix that helps me stay grounded, literally and metaphorically.
I walk that same path most mornings, barefoot if I can. Not because I need to get somewhere, but because I need to be somewhere.
With Leo. With the earth. With myself.
About the Author
Mae Whitfern
Mae Whitfern is a writer and mental health educator exploring the meeting place between nervous system science and the natural world. With a background in community health and public education, Mae specialises in making evidence-informed practices feel gentle, grounded, and doable—especially for people navigating stress, burnout, or urban life.
Her work is shaped by lived experience, years in the public sector, and countless walks in local bushland. She believes healing doesn’t require perfect conditions—just a patch of sky, a moment of stillness, and the willingness to begin again.
Mae writes from the edges of Naarm/Melbourne, where she lives with her partner and a scruffy rescue dog
