Sweet sleep, for we might say sleep is that from which we arise, to emerge at birth and find ourselves astonished by the light; and then, at the appointed time, that to which we return, ripe and ready for the next miracle. Sweet, for how could it not be? — as sweet as the sleep of the child one was, is, and will become — sweet as the dew on any blossom, leaf, or fruit you may choose. The sweet sleep you grant yourself by virtue of your love for others, and for all, and therefore you too. Sweet, though there be pain and strife all around. Sleep, though there is grief, and though there is suffering, knowing you are part of that too.
Bare feet, for all that is natural and joyful; bare, that there may be nothing between the earth and your toes, between you and all she is so willing and eager to tell. Feet, free of the prison and armor of humid socks and crippling shoes, and from the striking of heels of soldiers who, by order of habit, fear even and especially themselves.
Sweet sleep and bare feet, for all they are, all they bring, all they carry, all they restore, and all they reveal; and, for the nigh-weightless body borne by the bier, on its way and always ever at home.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet
Tags: Bare Feet, Beginnings, Birth, Child and Man, Continuation, Death, Departures, Dew, Fear, Freedom, Gratitude, Grief, Habit, Joy, Light, Love, Meaning, Pain, Shoes, Sleep, Suffering, Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet, The Earth, Thich Nhat Hanh, Toes