Wearing
a t-shirt and shorts I stood on our driveway, facing out toward the
river across the street. I am not a particularly visual person, but it
is a wonderful view. I focused on the feeling of my hands wrapped around
my mug of coffee. It is a little warm, but more than
that it conjures up an image of myself as a woman. In my youth I
pictured a woman in nature, sipping coffee and contemplating the world
slowly, as the iconic woman. The woman to aim toward becoming. By
focusing on my hands, I was that woman.
Next, I stepped my bare feet off
of our concrete driveway and slipped them onto the grass of our lawn.
The first thing I felt was the coolness, quickly followed by wet. The
dew is delightful and refreshing on my feet. It feels like camping.
The
pleasure I take in each sensation is remarkable; you might think I
don't do this most mornings. But I do. The pleasure does not fade.
The thoughts that tumble through my mind are rarely brilliant, sensational, or earth shattering. But they are lovely.
Informed
by the environment and the sensations, my delight in the feeling of
feet on cool wet grass this morning led me to think about shoes as an
invention.
As
I moved around on the grass, under the maple tree and then away from
it, sipping my lukewarm coffee and being that iconic woman, I imagined
people ever so long ago moving about in bare feet and knowing no other
way. Their feet would have been different from mine, and the sensations
would have been different as well. There is something healthy about bare
feet. But they also would have gotten deep cuts that lead to
infections. They would have been unable to inhabit certain spaces or
move as quickly in them. They would have been frostbitten. Their bare
feet would have been much stronger than mine, but still bare. As foot
coverings were invented they would have been celebrated, I'm guessing,
by many. Also, I imagine, they would have been scoffed at. The feeling
might have been weird and unyielding, and the disconnect from the earth
might have felt unfamiliar and awkward. But the perks of protecting feet
are very real. Life saving. And the ability to more easily go where we
once struggled to go is always appealing.
And
then from simply covering our feet to creating shoes. I imagined two
long ago cavemen as I moved from the grass back to the concrete pavers
of our driveway where I enjoyed the rough texture and tiny runaway rocks - the grit -
under my feet. I imagined these men discussing, with invisible to me
communication, the invention of these shoes.
One
was adamantly against it. They made us less connected to the earth,
they made our feet too soft and sensitive, they made people move into
places on the planet not meant for us where we proceeded to beat it into
submission, to renovate it for our own purposes. This would not be
good, he communicated with grunts and motions and invisible
understandings, for the way of life.
His
companion was declaring the ridiculousness of resisting progress. Nay,
the cruelty of it. These shoes save lives. Not only by protecting feet
but also by granting them the ability to move farther, beyond previous
limits. Imagine the food they could forage! The food they could hunt! We
had not been granted such thick paws or hooves like other animals, but
we can make them. Make something better even.
As
I imagined, I moved around again. Back I went to our lawn, bare feet on
wet grass, the grass relieving me of the tiny pebbles that were
sticking to the skin of my soles. The morning was beginning to pick up
and a few cars passed by. There is a small road, as well as a bike path,
between our lawn and the river. I like it.
I
sipped my coffee and imagined those cavemen recognizing that they were
both right. I moved back under the maple tree to step up onto the wooden
bench placed beneath it, granting me a neat feeling of being a little
taller (standing on a bench) and also a little hidden (in the leaves of
the maple tree).
I
imagined them sitting on boulders and wearing traditional caveman garb
(I've seen the Flintstones so I know the style of the times.) while
continuing to debate the various issues of their topic. Shoes.
My
bare feet were planted firmly on the bench, the skin of my legs and
arms pleasantly tickled by the breeze, the sound of the leaves dancing
in the tree above me, rustling, invited my lips to curl upward as I
closed my eyes and tuned in. How I adore that sound!
I
imagined these cavemen knowing that shoes were not a bad invention,
they did not disagree on that, but they could not agree on what was more
important - limiting certain things or forging forcefully forward.
As
I stood on that bench in my bare feet, loving the option to walk this
way in our grass, I noticed the cars becoming a little more frequent. I
tried to sip my coffee and noticed there was no more to sip. I
recognized it was time to head indoors and drive my step-daughter to her
bus stop.
Whispering
a quiet imaginary goodby to my imaginary caveman friends I made my way
into our large home with a pool, a solarium, five bathrooms (one ever so
fancily outside by the pool), and climbed comfortably with my
step-daughter into our 2016 SUV where she paused her tik toks (but did
not remove her Bluetooth headphones) in order to chit chat with me while
we drove through the light traffic, past a plethora of homes in a
variety of sizes and styles, careful not to hit the many squirrels that
like to fritter from tree to tree despite any roads between them, to her
bus terminus. This I did happily and comfortably.
But guess what?
I chose not to wear any shoes.
Hugs, smiles, and love!!!
