Reflection on My Feet

Legs, feet, arms and hands propel the child-aged me up into the trees and away from the crazy inside my house. Branches — tree-arms — open wide in comfort; providing escape and safety.

We move north to a home without an accessible tree. So now respite is found first, on feet shod in inexpensive sneakers and spring-loaded metal snap on roller-skates, and later pumping the pedals of my bicycle.

feetFeet, never one of my attractive assets. But, strong – strong and sturdy, decades later supporting my body as I flow through warrior, triangle and down dog and into the knowledge that spirituality and religion are not necessarily the same.

Tarsals, metatarsals and phalanges, wrapped in skin containing thousands of nerve endings. Nerve endings whose messages are now often partially muted by damage from confused T-cells that can’t always tell friend from foe. A daily game of telephone that many times causes frustration and sometimes tears.

Yet, it is to these feet that I turn again and again as I seek to center and connect with something larger than myself. Standing or seated, four corners against the ground, I close my eyes and turn inwards.

groundingAwareness expands and energetic roots magically sprout from my soles, growing longer down into the layers of Mother Earth. Widening their path to the side, connecting me to not only the wisdom of the planet, but to the energy of other humans grounding in that moment.

These feet are portals to dimensions unseen.

Through them I am nourished.
Through them I am in community.
Through them I touch the Divine.

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This piece of writing grew out of the workshop series I mentioned in my last post. I am very grateful for the assignment. First, it made me confront the fact that I hadn’t fully grieved the changes MS brought to me during 2018. Then, it allowed me to process and alchemize that grief into this piece of writing and a reminder that I am not just this body.

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