Thursday, March 3, 2016
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Monday, July 14, 2014
fire ants
Coming back from a terrific walk that included wet grass, a dark woman playfully asked where my shoes were. Probably the most frequently asked question I get when my feet are bare.
I gave her the literal reply, "in my office in in a desk drawer." I wasn't in a hurry so I waited to see what came next. She was the friendly sort, not the kind that sees me as some kind of freak, but just curious.
"Well, you ought to Watch out for the fire ants then" she said. People generally do care about my well-being, and I appreciate that. I do know about fire ant and they are nothing to trifle with. "My wife was just bitten by one on her leg and it was very painful. Of course, she was wearing shoes at the time." Just goes to show, we agreed.
I gave her the literal reply, "in my office in in a desk drawer." I wasn't in a hurry so I waited to see what came next. She was the friendly sort, not the kind that sees me as some kind of freak, but just curious.
"Well, you ought to Watch out for the fire ants then" she said. People generally do care about my well-being, and I appreciate that. I do know about fire ant and they are nothing to trifle with. "My wife was just bitten by one on her leg and it was very painful. Of course, she was wearing shoes at the time." Just goes to show, we agreed.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Thursday, December 13, 2012
My Feet Reeked UPDATED
Wow. Blogger deleted my post, damnit. Ok, here's something better anyway:
I didn't take off my shoes to prove anything. My family didn't want to be around me. My feet reeked.
I admire cody lundin and am better for knowing him, but it's not a form of imitation.
Foot health, that was the first reason. Then I discovered 101 more.
I feel closer to a primal humanity. To animal. to nature.
I pay more attention, go more slowly, and am awakened by the sensations of the moment - all qualities that are part of a healthy life path.
I feel stronger, and judging by the utterly stunned reaction of perfect strangers, I must be insane.
"Where are your shoes", "Don't your feet hurt", "You're crazy"
These are from people I don't even know, people who would have nothing to say if I hadn't taken off my shoes, which could be the thing that is most striking: going barefoot brings me closer to people. It creates an opening that had been plugged up with shoes. I'd like to say they are filled with compassionate wonder, reaching out to me from lips loosened by the sight of a man's toes. It's often scorn, disgust, walking barefoot on a bathroom floor. Mister, the soles of your shoes collect more shit and are harder to clean than my feet, and besides, I don't eat with them.
The danger. Oh, the broken glass everywhere, the rocks and prickers. Truth: the most blood I've lost came from stepping on broken glass in my own bedroom. I think I broke a toe stubbing it the road. That's a lesson: that the hardest thing on a bare foot is pavement. Once you get off the roads things go better.
Wearing shoes indoors is an affront to many cultures. Not us. Bare feet are considered ugly in American.
Isn't barefoot the ideal? It represents the beach, green green grass, childhood, pregnancy, freedom without care.
I love most of all, when my love says to someone, "He can run barefoot across the desert floor".
I didn't take off my shoes to prove anything. My family didn't want to be around me. My feet reeked.
I admire cody lundin and am better for knowing him, but it's not a form of imitation.
Foot health, that was the first reason. Then I discovered 101 more.
I feel closer to a primal humanity. To animal. to nature.
I pay more attention, go more slowly, and am awakened by the sensations of the moment - all qualities that are part of a healthy life path.
I feel stronger, and judging by the utterly stunned reaction of perfect strangers, I must be insane.
"Where are your shoes", "Don't your feet hurt", "You're crazy"
These are from people I don't even know, people who would have nothing to say if I hadn't taken off my shoes, which could be the thing that is most striking: going barefoot brings me closer to people. It creates an opening that had been plugged up with shoes. I'd like to say they are filled with compassionate wonder, reaching out to me from lips loosened by the sight of a man's toes. It's often scorn, disgust, walking barefoot on a bathroom floor. Mister, the soles of your shoes collect more shit and are harder to clean than my feet, and besides, I don't eat with them.
The danger. Oh, the broken glass everywhere, the rocks and prickers. Truth: the most blood I've lost came from stepping on broken glass in my own bedroom. I think I broke a toe stubbing it the road. That's a lesson: that the hardest thing on a bare foot is pavement. Once you get off the roads things go better.
Wearing shoes indoors is an affront to many cultures. Not us. Bare feet are considered ugly in American.
Isn't barefoot the ideal? It represents the beach, green green grass, childhood, pregnancy, freedom without care.
I love most of all, when my love says to someone, "He can run barefoot across the desert floor".
Monday, December 3, 2012
Changed the world
The simple act of going barefoot changes the world. It changed my world, and on the whole, the change has been for the good.
One of the changes that often happens in the world around me is a spontaneous eruption of compassion. Perfect strangers will raise their eyes to me, beholding before them a person walking without shoes on a chilly fall day, and express their concern about the welfare of my feet. "Aren't your feet cold?" they ask, with various degrees of sincerity. Of course, there may be scorn and disapproval, even shock at the sight of such discomfort. It is sometimes sympathy, mostly curiousity, that drives the question and perhaps not a heart-felt compassion. Nonetheless, the act of reaching out to me, another perfect stranger, with words, at least in the outward sense, of concern for another human being, may be a step in the right direction: toward connection, wonder, and surprise.
One of the changes that often happens in the world around me is a spontaneous eruption of compassion. Perfect strangers will raise their eyes to me, beholding before them a person walking without shoes on a chilly fall day, and express their concern about the welfare of my feet. "Aren't your feet cold?" they ask, with various degrees of sincerity. Of course, there may be scorn and disapproval, even shock at the sight of such discomfort. It is sometimes sympathy, mostly curiousity, that drives the question and perhaps not a heart-felt compassion. Nonetheless, the act of reaching out to me, another perfect stranger, with words, at least in the outward sense, of concern for another human being, may be a step in the right direction: toward connection, wonder, and surprise.
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