Soles and Soul!
After how many days with the minimal wearing of shoes, I again, optimistically, try this morning slipping on a pair of loose shoes, but, again, my tender feet, shout, "No shoes!" I am reminded now of Jeff's second Christmas. He was a year and three months. He received innumerable toys, but one box he opened contained an adorable outfit. He tossed it down, and said, "No clothes." That was in San Diego, and minimal clothes were certainly a possibility, but my feet are now emphatically saying, "No shoes." I suppose they are happy now to have a voice, and to make their needs and wants known.
I consider the soles of my feet, and wonder if this is a way to further burn, to etch this changing pattern of soul. It is as though my feet are melting, and finding new form, new ways to accept the energies of the earth, and convey them upward to meld in me, and reach the sky. My feet cannot handle the harsh handle of a shoe. They need to feel the floor, and bounce. I would love to have them feel the sand and the ground, too, but we are not in San Diego, and the rain continues enclosing me in a gentle land. "Stay inside, I am told. Remold." And so I do.
I consider the soles of my feet, and wonder if this is a way to further burn, to etch this changing pattern of soul. It is as though my feet are melting, and finding new form, new ways to accept the energies of the earth, and convey them upward to meld in me, and reach the sky. My feet cannot handle the harsh handle of a shoe. They need to feel the floor, and bounce. I would love to have them feel the sand and the ground, too, but we are not in San Diego, and the rain continues enclosing me in a gentle land. "Stay inside, I am told. Remold." And so I do.