What’s the Frequency Schumann?

Tuning out the Noise, Tuning in the Resonance

The ground beneath my feet shook last night. Not from an earthquake. Not from some enormous shift in life events. Not from me stumbling around in the dark and landing flat on my tush in my haste to head out the room to write this (actually that last one did happen and the floorboards did give a good hearty shake). No, instead the ground shook with an awakening.

I had been lying in bed tossing and turning thinking about what I’d learned last night from an old friend. In a YouTube interview, she was describing the existence of “The Schumann Frequency,” a naturally occurring magnetic field resonance that exists on our planet at a wavelength of 7.83 Hz. The fact that shook me the most from the entire discussion was that NASA sends these electromagnetic waves out with its astronauts to keep them from going crazy in space. As a human species, apparently this is our “grounding frequency” and thankfully it naturally exists all around us here on Earth.

How in tune am I with these vibrations despite them being just outside of the audible range of the human ear? Even if we could hear them, wouldn’t they be masked over by the constant stream of dings, bleeps, purrs and putters that make up the sounds of our daily lives?

Flipping through my rolodex of experiences, I went searching as I lay there in bed. When have deeply grounding experiences come up for me? Have they been at times when I am completely immersed in nature, far far away from anyone else? Were these moments seemingly silent? Was it hard for me to pull away from these spots even after spending hours in them? Yes, yes, and yes.

Several notable places immediately came to mind, and they all had some things in common. I was alone in nature. There was no music playing. My phone was safely tucked away in silent mode. All of my senses were keenly attuned to my immediate environment. I was sitting or standing still. My head was relatively clear, or at least I was letting my thoughts peacefully pass through without stopping and dwelling on them.

All seemed right with the world at those moments. These grounding spots were incredibly hard to leave. I find myself heading back to them frequently, often mentally and sometimes physically, despite some of them being very difficult to get to.

Another common element of these times was that I had barely anything with me. The only possessions I had were the clothing, gear, food and water that were necessary to bring me out to those locations. I barely had anything to handle physically or emotionally and I didn’t have to manage anyone else. Mental noise and physical distractions were at an absolute minimum.

What compelled me this morning to put pen-to-paper is the epiphany that my most grounding moments were those where I’m closest to Earth, in the middle of nowhere, in nearly complete silence, without barely anything in tow. Unbeknownst to me, perhaps all that was silently “playing” in the background was the Schumann resonance.

Now, thanks to my friend, I know that complete silence actually does come with an inaudible soundtrack, at least deep in nature here on our planet. More importantly, I learned that the Schumann resonance is always there, it’s free, and it’s accessible to everyone. Maybe all that it takes to properly absorb these healing waves is to momentarily put your burdens on hold, throw the wool blanket over your shoulder, hop the proverbial back fence, stride off deep into nowhere, tune the dial to 7.83 Hz and let all that good natural energy well up between your toes and up into your soul.

So next time you suddenly wake up at night from seemingly imaginary deep rumblings, maybe it’s a signal to go and get lost in nature as soon as possible to hear what your dear old friend Schumann is desperately trying to tell you. For maximum effect, in pure ultralight minimalist fashion, just remember to leave all your excess baggage behind.