I am lost in thoughts. My mind wants to start making to-do lists for tomorrow and has forgotten about today. I need to hurry up and write so I can hurry up and take a nap and hurry up and hula hoop and hurry up and cook dinner. If only I were typing instead of writing this with paper and pen, then maybe my hands could produce words at the same speed as my thoughts. I’m sure even then I would find a way to get just a little bit ahead of myself.
So I take off my shoes and walk slowly along the border of the lake. Slowly, because I have no choice, the corners of the stones will hurt if I pick up my gait.
26 bones and 30 joints. More than 100 muscles and tendons and 3 layers of springy plantar fascia. A multitude of neural rich cells, the tissues of my feet are in quiet conversation with each other and the living breathing earth. This conversation changes course with every step. Tiny proprioceptive cells suggest to lift a little through my arch and to lengthen a little through the outer line of my leg. This supports not only the integrity of my foot but the tracking of my knee and the alignment of my hips. Even the river of my spine finds balance through the engagement of my foot as it moves atop the bowl of my pelvis.
It is through this dynamic movement of walking, especially on uneven ground, that the arch of the human foot is formed in each of us. Similarly, the first curve of the human spine is formed when a belly-lying baby begins to push its hands into the ground and lift their chest as they become curious about this brand new world.
I would like to write a research paper on how strong yet malleable feet are the foundation of a healthy whole-body structure, and how walking outdoors on uneven, textured surfaces shapes the feet over time into an adaptable base. I’d explore how the wearing of soled shoes acts as a crutch which atrophies both the perception and strength of our feet over time.
I’m getting ahead of myself again. I am back at the water’s edge, feeling the warm rounded stones with their rough edges stimulate my intelligent feet with every step forward. As my mind wanders to to-do lists of tomorrow - a wiggly thing that doesn’t even exist yet - I come back. I return to presence myself in every step. I feel the temperature of the earth and the the textures of the stones, I hear the sounds they make like wishing coins dropping into a fountain as I patiently walk along the water’s edge. My eyes take in the vast snow peaked mountains in the distance, my heart opens to the expansiveness of the view, and my feet call me back to this moment again and again and again.
In wonder and awe I marvel at how not only our environment shapes our bodies, but how skin meeting earth morphs our minds and spirits into something strong, yet supple, listening deeply and ready to respond.