Im trying to make a non-barefooter feel what it is like to go barefooting outside. Does anyone have ideas on how to improve it? The road burns on summer afternoons, while rough concrete is the temperature of a comfortable bath. Metal drain grates feel best on a rainy day, though nothing beats stepping on a shadow on a hot day. A member of the Society of Barefoot Living once told me that a housefly tastes food with its feet, while a person tastes the earth with his or her feet. As a person who doesn’t like wearing shoes, I feel most content when I walk barefoot, my feet released from their prisons in which they taste only lukewarm sweat-porridge into an all-you-can-eat buffet: sunbaked, rough asphalt at 125 degrees Fahrenheit contrasted with smooth, painted crosswalk lines, the tickling grass and slimy mud, the fluffy carpet and hard tile flooring. I feel connected to the ground, the jittery feeling and unpleasant heat escaping, and knowing that my feet are not going to sweat a puddle into a pair of shoes. I feel stable, able to stand up tall without falling over. Though I enjoy walking on various textures, one of my favorite times to walk barefoot is after the first snowfall of winter. While some simply put on their boots to run outside in the snow, I carefully wrap up every part of my body to prevent the heat from escaping anywhere but towards my feet. Once the preparation is complete, I step outside slowly, letting the heat seep into the snow, allowing my feet to sink down to melt footprints for about ten to twenty steps to complete the ritual. I then move my attention from the ground to my surroundings, walking normally for a few minutes until my feet start to lose feeling and then dashing back indoors to warm up again. The sharp transition from freezing temperatures to toasty room temperature forces the blood to flush back into my extremities, creating a sort of burn that I can only achieve in summer by removing my legs from lotus position. Gradually the heat from the burn subsides, and my feet are free to taste the floor as I sit down with a novel and warm drink, excited to snowfoot again. Barefooting itself is already calming, but when I combine it with hand whistling my favorite songs on a warm concrete bench, I enter my calmest state where my feet are awake and my eyes are closed. As the song plays, stress gradually streams into my crude hand-flute, steadily escaping from my throat in the form of musical notes. My feet move to the tune, gently striking the bench with newly-found energy seemingly pulled from the earth by the song. I feel recharged on the tiny stage and jump onto the ground. Though the texture underneath my feet is the same as the bench, this time the concrete feels new and urges me to dance and let the last bit of unwanted heat out of my toes. I leave the experience energized and tired, warm and cold at the same time. Even though there are times that I need to put on shoes, I know that I will be able to take them off sometime; my feet will then be able to breathe, touch the ground, and taste the earth with relief again.
Posted on: Fri, 04 Jul 2014 12:08:33 +0000
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