Note: written on a cold winter night in mid-December
I don’t have to have shoes. Cold mud is my least favorite sensation, seconded by a cold damp hem on my jeans that knocks against my bare ankles when I walk, but both are bearable, and neither lasts too long.
I so much savor the freedom I feel in my heart when my feet are bare that it is worth it to me to bear the discomfort of cold mud and damp hems. When the ground is cold and muddy, everything about my body is miserably uncomfortable. I mean, it’s spikey, icy rain that creates the muddy ground after all, and I don’t like how that feels on my nose and in my bones.
I stray. My point here is that I don’t have to have shoes. I
have thick soles so rough surfaces do not bother me. In contrast, I find that
the many textures of the world serve me with miniature foot massages all
through the day. Tingle, mingle, surprise! Hot, cold, tiny prickles, dull, wide
thumps. It makes me aware of my environment and puts me in touch with the
interaction between the earth and me – even the every day dull moments that
make up my life. I get this constant loving touch from the earth all through
the day. These sensations coming to my consciousness through the soles of my
feet provide for me an awareness that gives me a certain kind of energy that
pulsates in my soul
A secret massage – a dancing soul – oooh! Such joys!
I don’t have to have shoes, but I do have to go barefooted!