Almost every client who comes to me wants to start with Fire.
They want their passion back. Their spark. The version of themselves that used to feel alive before life got heavy, before the years of managing instead of living took their toll. I understand this completely (Fire is the element people can feel the absence of). It's the one they can name.
But in five years of somatic bodywork, elemental practice, and energy healing, I have never once started a client's journey there. Not because Fire doesn't matter, it matters enormously, but because a fire lit without ground beneath it burns fast, burns hot, and burns out. I've watched it happen with clients. I've lived it happen in my own body (more than once) long before I understood why.
This is the case for starting with Earth. Not as ritual. Not as a nod to tradition. As a structural necessity that I've come to trust the way an engineer trusts a foundation before framing a roof, because, as it happens, that's exactly the background I came from.
The Engineer's Case for Starting Low
I have a Master's in Electrical and IT Engineering from TU Munich. Before I did any of this work, I spent years thinking in systems: load-bearing structures, dependencies, what has to exist before something else can function without collapsing.
When I started training in somatic and energetic practices, what struck me wasn't how different this thinking was from engineering. It was how similar. The body has load-bearing structures too. Not metaphorically, literally. Your bones, your legs, your relationship to gravity and ground, form the physical and psychological base that everything else gets built on top of. Skip that base, and you can still build something for a while. But it won't hold weight.
I didn't invent this idea. It's ancient. The five-element systems that inform my practice (used across multiple healing traditions for millennia) consistently place Earth first, not last, not in the middle. Before Water's flow, before Fire's ignition, before Air's clarity, before Ether's expansiveness. There is a reason this ordering has survived thousands of years of practice: it works, and skipping it doesn't.
I also didn't come to this understanding purely through study. I came to it through burnout, twice. Once in 2018–2019, and again in 2023, both times while deep in a corporate career that rewarded exactly the pattern I now recognize as ungrounded: achievement without foundation, output without rest, a nervous system running on Fire with no Earth underneath it. Both times, the crash wasn't dramatic at first. It was a slow erosion that only became undeniable once my body simply stopped cooperating with the pace I'd been demanding of it. Healing from that (actually healing, not just recovering enough to go back to the same pattern) is what put me on this path in the first place. I didn't discover the Earth element in a textbook. I discovered it in the process of learning, the hard way, what happens when you don't have it.
What "Ungrounded" Actually Feels Like in the Body
Most of my clients don't arrive describing themselves as ungrounded. They arrive describing themselves as tired. Anxious. Scattered. Successful on paper but strangely hollow. Prone to spiraling into their heads when things get hard. Disconnected from their own legs, literally unable to feel their feet on the floor when I ask them to notice.
This is what an unaddressed Earth element looks like in practice, not in theory:
- A nervous system that never fully exhales. The body stays braced, even in rest, because it has never learned that the ground beneath it is safe or reliable.
- Decision-making that lives entirely in the head. Without a felt sense of stability in the body, the mind takes over as the only trusted authority, leading to the exact overthinking loop many of my clients are trying to escape.
- A pattern of chasing the next thing. Fire without Earth doesn't feel like passion. It feels like restlessness. Like never quite arriving, no matter what's achieved.
- Physical tension concentrated in the legs, hips, and lower back: the body's structural equivalent of gripping the edge of a table that feels like it might tip.
I see this constantly in people who are, by every external measure, doing well. High performers. People who've built careers, relationships, entire identities on top of a foundation they've never actually gone back to check.
Working the Earth Element: What This Actually Looks Like
In session, working with Earth is not abstract. It's physical, specific, and (I'll be honest) often less dramatic than clients expect. There's no dramatic release, no catharsis. That comes later, in Water and Fire. Earth work is quieter.
We work with the legs and the bones, not as anatomy, but as the parts of the body responsible for literally holding you up. Many people have never consciously felt the weight of their own skeleton settle into the ground. We find that sensation together, often through slow, deliberate movement and weighted stillness.
We work with routines and rhythm, because Earth isn't only physical, it's temporal. A nervous system that never knows what's coming next cannot relax into safety, no matter how much "inner work" happens on top of that instability. Part of this phase is often, unglamorously, about sleep, food, and the structure of an ordinary day.
We work with the felt sense of "enough." Earth governs foundational needs, not aspiration, not potential, just: do you have what you need, right now, in this body, to be here? Most people, when they actually pause to ask this question somatically rather than intellectually, are surprised by the answer.
This is slow work. It asks for patience in a culture that rewards speed and dramatic transformation stories. But I have never seen deep, lasting change happen without it.
Why Skipping This Step Doesn't Work, Even When It Feels Like Progress
I want to be direct about something I see often, including in my own history before I understood this framework: it is entirely possible to do "transformation work" that bypasses Earth completely, and to feel temporarily incredible doing it.
Breathwork intensives. Ecstatic dance. Big cathartic energy sessions. These practices are genuinely valuable (I use several of them myself, including dance as one of my own core embodiment practices), but when they're the entry point rather than something built on stable ground, they tend to produce a familiar pattern: an intense high, followed by a crash that leaves people feeling more destabilized than before they started.
This isn't a failure of the practice. It's a sequencing error. Fire needs somewhere to burn. Without Earth beneath it, the energy has nowhere to land, so it simply dissipates, and often takes something with it on the way out.
This is why, in the Alchemical Coaching journey I offer, Earth is never optional and never rushed. Even clients who are desperate to get to the "exciting" parts of the work (the Fire, the Ether, the parts that feel transcendent) go through Earth first. Every time. Not because I'm rigid about tradition, but because I've watched what happens when this step gets skipped, and I've watched what becomes possible when it doesn't.
What Becomes Available Once Ground Is Real
Here is what I've witnessed, consistently, once a client has genuinely established Earth, not performed it, not intellectually understood it, but felt it in their bones and legs and daily rhythm:
Water moves differently. Emotional release that used to feel like drowning starts to feel like flow, because there's solid ground to release onto, not just an open void.
Fire burns cleaner. The passion that emerges isn't frantic or grasping, it's sustained, because it has somewhere stable to come from.
Even Air (the mental clarity so many people are chasing directly, skipping everything beneath it) becomes accessible in a way that white-knuckled mindfulness practice alone rarely achieves. A regulated nervous system, built on real ground, simply thinks more clearly. This isn't mysticism. It's physiology.
Earth → Water → Fire → Air → Ether. The sequence holds because each layer needs the one before it.
An Invitation, Not a Prescription
I'm not suggesting everyone needs a five-element framework or a somatic practitioner to feel grounded. But I am suggesting this: if you've tried therapy, breathwork, yoga, coaching (all genuinely good tools) and you still feel like something foundational hasn't shifted, it might be worth asking whether you've actually addressed your relationship to ground. Not metaphorically. Physically. In your legs, your bones, your nervous system's baseline sense of safety.
Most transformation work in the wellness industry moves toward the exciting elements first: the passion, the clarity, the transcendence, because that's what sells and what feels good to talk about. Earth doesn't have that appeal. It's unglamorous. It's slow. It asks you to pause instead of leap.
But in five years of doing this work, and in my own ongoing practice, I've come to trust it completely: the ground you actually feel beneath you is the ground everything else gets to stand on.
Prima Materia offers 1:1 Alchemical Coaching combining somatic bodywork, elemental practice, and energy healing, working with the five elements (Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Ether) as a complete map for transformation. If this resonated, book a free 30-minute discovery call to explore whether this work is right for you.
← Back to the Journal