A Month of No Shoes

A month of not wearing shoes is pure happiness.

It started out rather accidentally. Several days into July I realized, "I haven't worn shoes this month. I wonder, could I make it the rest of the month?"

Because I wasn't about to put myself through any pain for some whim of pride, I kept a pair of flip-flops in my purse. Eventually, I gave in to pride and threw the flip-flops in the back of my car.

One of my clients asked me, "But don't you ever step on painful stuff?"

Hesitating, wanting to only share how grand it had been, I finally said, "Yeah. A lot. There is a lot of pain. But maybe that is why I'm able to better appreciate all the other beautiful textures of Earth."

Yes. There's been pain... so what? A friend and I were talking about how love for adventure often conflicts with fear of people. I said, "Yeah, I guess most people think people are scary and hurt others. Guess what? People are scary and they will hurt us. But who cares? Who cares. People will keep creeping us out and hurting us no matter if we live or not. So why keep from living?" 

I walked around grimy gas stations.
I stepped on cacti and thistles and thin blades of dry, dead grass (gravel is nothing compared to this latter pain that stabs up through the thickest of callouses).
I hiked five miles, then danced. Oh, it was the most painful dancing I'd ever done... yet my feet, my soul, all of me was so happy even so. Not despite, but with it and maybe through those five miles of sauntering on scorching dirt with bits of sharp grit.

I've sunk into cool mud and thick moss. My feet were warmed by cracked boards and scratchy sidewalks. I found coins and glass and marbles and string.

I found a new appreciation for wading: is not it the greatest reward to feet that have trekked over a dirty, painful path? And how can anyone have loved the soft, damp grass as much as one with sore feet?

I'm rather obsessed with having clean feet, so that was the hardest part. And not being able to wear high heels to church 🤣

But now... now that tomorrow is a new month, and a Sunday, I am torn. To wear heels? Or to keep on walking freely?

Oh, it's been so liberating. It's like I've embraced some grandiose path, accepting all the painful parts and thus able to enjoy the blissful, soft, nourishing bits of the trail. My feet feel so healthy. Perhaps my feet and my heart are one?

Reminds me of a time I hurt my right hand badly last month, and had to clean with my left hand. At first, my left hand was slow and weak. Then after ten minutes, excruciating pain set in. I forced myself to keep on because I had no choice.
Then came numbness.
Two whole minutes of my arm feeling... dead? It was nearly worse than the pain.
And then came a feeling of belonging. I still had no muscle memory and was slower, but the pain was gone, the numbness was fell away to a beautiful, new feeling. I loved cleaning with that arm for the rest of the week.

The same happened to my feet over and over.

The same has been happening inside over and over.

How can I ever wear shoes again? Ah, but I can. Because I love pretty shoes, too. 😊

Do you enjoy not wearing shoes? Would you ever try something like this?