Counting the one we live in, between here and the stop sign there are seven houses. I just ran to the stop sign and back three times. That makes forty-two houses. It’s foggy this morning and fairly chilly out, just above freezing. Nice and dark. No wind. Dawn just a thought, not yet a glow. Maybe a promise. We shall see. I refuse to take it for granted. Forty-two houses. I could have run around the block instead, as I’ve been doing of late. But I didn’t. The block isn’t really a block in a square or rectangular sense. It has its lazy bends. Even after living here all these years, I don’t know how far it is. But it’s less, I think, than forty-two houses. In fact, I’m almost sure of it. As sure as I am that I’m sitting here, which is a subject open for debate. Is he or isn’t he? Am I or amn’t I? I ran slowly enough, taking small steps. I breathed in and out only through my nose. My hands were bare, as were my feet in their thin sandals. By human standards, I made very little noise. Just a soft padding sound. I awakened no hounds. These are the same sandals I wear on the trail, and dip in the rushing snow-melt. I wear them by Goose Lake and the river. I wear them on errands. But generally I don’t wear them at all. The reason I wear them while running on the street is that the bottoms of my feet are still a bit sensitive to that surface. I can walk on it fairly well, but after a while they get to tingling, which in its own strange way is pleasant enough, until the tingling tells me to stop. A few minutes later, the tingling goes away. I love my feet. One thing I like to do is to see how relaxed and how calm I can be. This includes the time I’m running. This morning I was very relaxed and calm. No urgency at all. No fight or flight response. Only my feet, my lungs, and my diaphragm, for a meaningless distance of forty-two houses, except that each house contained sleeping and dreaming bodies and countless other things.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet
Tags: Bare Feet, Breath, Breathing, Calm, Cold, Dawn, Dreams, Fog, Goose Lake, Hiking, Houses, Meditation, Rivers, Running, Sandals, Silver Falls, Sleep, Snow, Walking, Water
William Michaelian 
I’ve been barefoot almost always, for years.
I often have to put cream on my feet because they really become new shoes. But it doesn’t matter much.
It is an exquisite sensation, a total well-being.
I have a hard time wearing shoes. I always need something very flexible.
Small wink with your text.
Thanks.
Good and beautiful day, William.
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And to you, Béatrice. That’s wonderful to hear, and I’m not surprised. It all shows in your beautiful writing. Sometimes I use a tiny bit of olive oil. Oil, you know, is also good for our “shoes.”
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I’ll try, promise!
Olive oil is my favorite oil.
Thank you, dear friend.
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