Pain doesn’t always mean something is wrong. Sometimes it just means I’m not paying attention—or that there’s a reasonable price to pay for the kind of closeness I want with the ground under my feet. Go ahead. Try it.
“…finding your footing means being supple, not stable.” What a magnificent turn of Truth! This makes so much more sense to me than an ongoing challenge to find my stability. Being supple necessarily means being vulnerable to whatever is under foot. I trod the path before me with a sensitivity that reveals not just my sensation, but that of the path and those who have walked and are walking. Thank you—again—Barbara, for sharing such sensible and liberating insight.
I felt that I was “reading between the lines“ all the way through your post. From my perspective, your writing is often this way: writing about something that is valuable and interesting and even humorous…but underneath and between the lines you are pointing/ leading the reader to something else entirely and usually something much deeper, much more significant. Maybe it’s just me…
Your last paragraph really inspired me:
“That’s why it’s good to have some teammates when your balance is shot and you need a place to lean until the dizziness goes away. A fence post may work, but a shoulder is much better. It’s the same ground underneath all our feet, after all, and you’ll get your turn to be the steady one. At the moment, I can’t think of a better reason to be here at all.”
Susan, you put my thoughts into such a beautiful bouquet. Barbara's writing is subtle...it gently offers something deeper, but she always allows us to find our own way, in our own time. So here we are...each one taking our turn to be the steady one as we're able.
Wonderful, wonderful! My parents were wonderful models for being barefoot. For my dad, that was almost as soon as the snow melted in upstate NY. The only place ai didn't go barefoot very much, other than in my backyard, was in Phoenix, Az. Just a bit too prickly to take a chance. But otherwise, I am just gleeful when I can first go out in early spring to fill the birdfeeder in the morning. And I wouldn't consider going into the strawberry patch with shoes on. I'm now 78, over weight with poor balance and sore knoees. But walking on sacred ground with the soles of my feet encountering the Earth in all of it's stages is one of the joys of Spring.
Cool grass under feet, bugs and all, is very therapeutic. I was newly divorced, living in a crappy apartment, overwhelmed with all of life’s responsibilities and mindful of the enormous journey I just started. I was about to just break down. Completely at my wits end. And then I remember a small section of a local park that is secluded with an ancient carpet of healing pine needles and leaves and bug and their guts. After work I made a bee line for that space. It was early spring cold and my socks were pretty and warm. And in two seconds off they came. My feet and soul were shocked at the immediacy of relief. I have no idea how long I stood there. The spring sun was getting ready to go bed when I started to notice the trees around me. All I remember of that is the shock of relief when both feet settled into the ancient earth. 23+ years later I remember to return to trees and grass and dirt.
I too love to walk around outside with no shoes on…I do it right up to the edge of starting to become questionable when the weather turns cold and as soon as the temps look like they might start to rise they are back off…so much so that one time I was in my car getting ready to leave on a trip with my husband and kids and my neighbor was standing on his front porch….he waved for me to get out of the car…I stepped out…he peered over the porch railing and said “Okay! Just wanted to make sure you were wearing shoes!” 😆😂
I was a dance major in college and studied modern dance. Bare feet! I almost forgot I come from that tribe until I read “If you want to find your footing in this world, it might help to take off your shoes from time to time, under any conditions that make sense to you. At the very least, you’ll learn that being grounded has nothing to do with planting both of your feet so firmly that nothing can sway or trouble you. Go ahead. Try it.
Or try making yourself vulnerable instead--finding your balance in almost constant motion, learning to shift your weight this way and that while you engage all of the sharp, cool, thorny, exciting, and painful things that come your way every single day.”
I’m 70 now. Somewhere along the way plantar fasciitis showed up. I got inducted into the need for extra cushioning and arch supports. I fell backward last week into my lavender. I doubt it would’ve happened if I’d been barefoot. Something tells me to follow your instructions. Thank you!
This resonates deeply with a recent experience I had walking a labyrinth and feeling the need to take my shoes off and walk the spiky gravel barefoot - my spiritual guide at the time reflected it as a need to be in reality!
Liz, I had the same experience when I walked around the Big Horn Medicine Wheel in Wyoming. With each step on the sharp gravel I felt "I'm here. I'm here."
Thank you for affirming our connectedness to ourselves,Mother Earth and one another. Your words reminded me of one of my fav Pete Seeger songs, To My Old Brown Earth.
Im in Australia and this reminds me of our First Nations peoples and their connection to the land. The idea that 'finding your footing' is about relationship - about feeling the earth's textures and respecting its complexity - feels like a bridge between your personal experience and Indigenous ways of knowing. We have all had our Indigenous ways stripped from us, yet from my experience those feelings of connection are innate it us. Walking barefoot becomes an act of listening, not just moving.
Thank you for putting this into words. Walking barefoot on this land is the quickest way for me to feel connected to my ancestors and the indigenous people who thrived here.
I grew up in the land of barefoot, so this heavily relates. Shoes are UFO's but necessary evils. Flips flops are acceptable. Thank you for writing this, I think folks understatement the power of being connected directly to the earth under our feet.
"Stop walking on your toes!" I heard that a lot. I wanted to be a ballerina, but preacher's kids don't dance, so I tiptoed instead. It was easier to imagine I was floating with ballet slippers when I wore the black, shiny patents to church.
I wanted saddle shoes but Mama said no. Despite my longing to be a ballerina, the facts on the ground were that there was no tree I would not climb, no forest mud puddle I would not splash through pretending to be an explorer, and no fence that could stop me clambering over, heedless of the beating my shoes took. So, no shoes with large white leather spaces. She was right, it would have been impossible to keep clean.
High heels. At last! Free of all the naysaying, I got them and I wore them. Add three inches to my 5'9" frame and I towered above the crowd. Nana said, "You're going to regret that when you get old." She was right too.
Nun shoes. Thank goodness by the time I did get old there were alternatives because I can't put my poor feet in anything but flat shoes these days. Makes it easier to stay upright when the world shifts, the earth moves, the boundaries change. You wobble for a minute, then you put your flat feet on the ground, ask for the strength to do it, and stand upright. Lift up your head. Until the next quake. Then you do it again.
Sometimes I wish it would just stop moving, the ground. But I don't think it will. Not now. So I'm grateful I've been given so much practice. And that flat shoes are readily available.
my hypervigilance gave one loud pop and died. In the silence that followed, I could hear crows laughing at something way up in the sky. The creek gurgled like one of those champagne fountains at a wedding.
Freedom. Feeling. Suppleness. Vulnerability. Beauty in pain. Gifts of the earth and our more than human loved ones.
There should be an adore button. Your words are like butter. Like running water in a creek. Effortless. ❤️
I thought the same thing. Adorable piece for sure. 😊
“…finding your footing means being supple, not stable.” What a magnificent turn of Truth! This makes so much more sense to me than an ongoing challenge to find my stability. Being supple necessarily means being vulnerable to whatever is under foot. I trod the path before me with a sensitivity that reveals not just my sensation, but that of the path and those who have walked and are walking. Thank you—again—Barbara, for sharing such sensible and liberating insight.
Lovely…
I felt that I was “reading between the lines“ all the way through your post. From my perspective, your writing is often this way: writing about something that is valuable and interesting and even humorous…but underneath and between the lines you are pointing/ leading the reader to something else entirely and usually something much deeper, much more significant. Maybe it’s just me…
Your last paragraph really inspired me:
“That’s why it’s good to have some teammates when your balance is shot and you need a place to lean until the dizziness goes away. A fence post may work, but a shoulder is much better. It’s the same ground underneath all our feet, after all, and you’ll get your turn to be the steady one. At the moment, I can’t think of a better reason to be here at all.”
Susan, you put my thoughts into such a beautiful bouquet. Barbara's writing is subtle...it gently offers something deeper, but she always allows us to find our own way, in our own time. So here we are...each one taking our turn to be the steady one as we're able.
Wonderful, wonderful! My parents were wonderful models for being barefoot. For my dad, that was almost as soon as the snow melted in upstate NY. The only place ai didn't go barefoot very much, other than in my backyard, was in Phoenix, Az. Just a bit too prickly to take a chance. But otherwise, I am just gleeful when I can first go out in early spring to fill the birdfeeder in the morning. And I wouldn't consider going into the strawberry patch with shoes on. I'm now 78, over weight with poor balance and sore knoees. But walking on sacred ground with the soles of my feet encountering the Earth in all of it's stages is one of the joys of Spring.
I love this, Heidi! Walking barefoot, the "souls" of our feet are being supported by Mama Earth:)
Cool grass under feet, bugs and all, is very therapeutic. I was newly divorced, living in a crappy apartment, overwhelmed with all of life’s responsibilities and mindful of the enormous journey I just started. I was about to just break down. Completely at my wits end. And then I remember a small section of a local park that is secluded with an ancient carpet of healing pine needles and leaves and bug and their guts. After work I made a bee line for that space. It was early spring cold and my socks were pretty and warm. And in two seconds off they came. My feet and soul were shocked at the immediacy of relief. I have no idea how long I stood there. The spring sun was getting ready to go bed when I started to notice the trees around me. All I remember of that is the shock of relief when both feet settled into the ancient earth. 23+ years later I remember to return to trees and grass and dirt.
Me too, Pat:) Walking barefoot in the grass and dirt and sand. It's a relief every time.
definitely going back to that space tomorrow!
I too love to walk around outside with no shoes on…I do it right up to the edge of starting to become questionable when the weather turns cold and as soon as the temps look like they might start to rise they are back off…so much so that one time I was in my car getting ready to leave on a trip with my husband and kids and my neighbor was standing on his front porch….he waved for me to get out of the car…I stepped out…he peered over the porch railing and said “Okay! Just wanted to make sure you were wearing shoes!” 😆😂
I was a dance major in college and studied modern dance. Bare feet! I almost forgot I come from that tribe until I read “If you want to find your footing in this world, it might help to take off your shoes from time to time, under any conditions that make sense to you. At the very least, you’ll learn that being grounded has nothing to do with planting both of your feet so firmly that nothing can sway or trouble you. Go ahead. Try it.
Or try making yourself vulnerable instead--finding your balance in almost constant motion, learning to shift your weight this way and that while you engage all of the sharp, cool, thorny, exciting, and painful things that come your way every single day.”
I’m 70 now. Somewhere along the way plantar fasciitis showed up. I got inducted into the need for extra cushioning and arch supports. I fell backward last week into my lavender. I doubt it would’ve happened if I’d been barefoot. Something tells me to follow your instructions. Thank you!
Hi, Cynthia--Falling into the lavender? Sounds like a great place to land and I hope you weren't hurt.
I also love the sentence, “finding your footing means being supple not stable.” We all need this today. Thank you.
Yes, I needed to hear this today...“finding your footing means being supple not stable.”
This resonates deeply with a recent experience I had walking a labyrinth and feeling the need to take my shoes off and walk the spiky gravel barefoot - my spiritual guide at the time reflected it as a need to be in reality!
Liz, I had the same experience when I walked around the Big Horn Medicine Wheel in Wyoming. With each step on the sharp gravel I felt "I'm here. I'm here."
Thank you for affirming our connectedness to ourselves,Mother Earth and one another. Your words reminded me of one of my fav Pete Seeger songs, To My Old Brown Earth.
I love the way you write about things. This is great. Thanks x
Im in Australia and this reminds me of our First Nations peoples and their connection to the land. The idea that 'finding your footing' is about relationship - about feeling the earth's textures and respecting its complexity - feels like a bridge between your personal experience and Indigenous ways of knowing. We have all had our Indigenous ways stripped from us, yet from my experience those feelings of connection are innate it us. Walking barefoot becomes an act of listening, not just moving.
Thank you for putting this into words. Walking barefoot on this land is the quickest way for me to feel connected to my ancestors and the indigenous people who thrived here.
I grew up in the land of barefoot, so this heavily relates. Shoes are UFO's but necessary evils. Flips flops are acceptable. Thank you for writing this, I think folks understatement the power of being connected directly to the earth under our feet.
I'm just going to add an Amen to this.
"Stop walking on your toes!" I heard that a lot. I wanted to be a ballerina, but preacher's kids don't dance, so I tiptoed instead. It was easier to imagine I was floating with ballet slippers when I wore the black, shiny patents to church.
I wanted saddle shoes but Mama said no. Despite my longing to be a ballerina, the facts on the ground were that there was no tree I would not climb, no forest mud puddle I would not splash through pretending to be an explorer, and no fence that could stop me clambering over, heedless of the beating my shoes took. So, no shoes with large white leather spaces. She was right, it would have been impossible to keep clean.
High heels. At last! Free of all the naysaying, I got them and I wore them. Add three inches to my 5'9" frame and I towered above the crowd. Nana said, "You're going to regret that when you get old." She was right too.
Nun shoes. Thank goodness by the time I did get old there were alternatives because I can't put my poor feet in anything but flat shoes these days. Makes it easier to stay upright when the world shifts, the earth moves, the boundaries change. You wobble for a minute, then you put your flat feet on the ground, ask for the strength to do it, and stand upright. Lift up your head. Until the next quake. Then you do it again.
Sometimes I wish it would just stop moving, the ground. But I don't think it will. Not now. So I'm grateful I've been given so much practice. And that flat shoes are readily available.
your writing soothes my being always… and i thank you for that.🙏❤️
my hypervigilance gave one loud pop and died. In the silence that followed, I could hear crows laughing at something way up in the sky. The creek gurgled like one of those champagne fountains at a wedding.
Freedom. Feeling. Suppleness. Vulnerability. Beauty in pain. Gifts of the earth and our more than human loved ones.
Soft shoulders. Yes!🙏