There are moments in life when my mind seems to race ahead of me — worries, what-ifs, and memories all collide, leaving me feeling anxious or overwhelmed. Over the years, I’ve tried different ways to manage those moments, experimenting with meditation, journaling, and even short walks. Some techniques worked better than others, but the ones I keep coming back to — the ones that really help me feel present — are the 5-4-3-2-1 technique and balloon breathing. 

I remember one evening last week, after a long, draining day, I felt that familiar tightness in my chest. My thoughts were racing, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders. Instead of pushing through or scrolling on my phone, I decided to pause. I found a quiet corner and ran through the 5-4-3-2-1 technique:  

1. Notice 5 things you can see — the soft glow of the lamp, the colourful cushions on the couch, a photo of my grandchildren, the teapot on the stove, and the little vase of flowers on the table.
2. Notice 4 things you can touch — the warm fabric of my jumper, the smooth wooden arm of the chair, the cup of tea in my hands, and the soft carpet beneath my feet.
3. Notice 3 things you can hear — the hum of the heater, distant traffic, and birds calling outside.
4. Notice 2 things you can smell — the comforting aroma of my tea, and the faint scent of the flowers.
5. Notice 1 thing you can taste — the lingering sweetness of the tea on my lips.

Then I added balloon breathing, imagining my lungs like a balloon slowly expanding as I inhaled, holding the breath for a moment, and gently letting it deflate as I exhaled. With each breath, I could feel the tension in my body soften. Within a few minutes, my mind quieted, and I felt a gentle sense of calm returning. 

What I love about grounding is how naturally it connects to other self-care rituals in my life — especially cooking. When I step into the kitchen, chopping, stirring, and tasting, I often find myself completely present, just like in grounding exercises. Baking a cake or preparing a meal for my family becomes a mindful practice: the textures, aromas, and colours draw me in, slowing my thoughts and helping me reconnect with myself. In fact, I often think of cooking as a way of grounding, a moment where I can focus fully on something tangible and nurturing. The smells, the flavours, even the simple act of stirring a sauce or kneading dough, bring me back to the here and now. 

Grounding isn’t about escaping life; it’s about finding small anchors that help me show up more fully — calmer, clearer, and more present. By combining these techniques with things I love, like cooking, I find that everyday moments can become peaceful, restorative, and deeply satisfying.  

Even in ordinary moments, peace is always within reach — if only I allow myself to pause, breathe, and notice the world around me.