Lost Spirit of the Barefooter (verse 1)
Close your eyes and think back to your childhood..
Do you remember the lazy barefoot days of summer?
A world of freedom and wonder. Nature was still a
magical world, as you caught frogs at the pond,
or chased fireflies in the night. Remember
the squishy feel of mud between your toes,
or the chilly blanket of dew on the grass in the morning?
A definition of catharsis
Close your eyes. Breathe deeply and just feel. Remember and experience. Focus on your feet. This sockless freedom takes you a million miles away, in place and time. Stretching toes deep, from the hot relaxing surface sand into the cool supporting underbelly of the beach. Stand sinking at the shoreline, each foamy basting drawing the structural sand from beneath you, tickling as it drags your support from under you. Dangling toes over waterways, creating ripples in the surface, with a slight anticipation of nibbling monsters from the deep, overcome by the soothing lapping of the lake. Sinking feet into warm woolly slippers, or the fluff and fur of the dog on a cold winter's day. She may stir at first, but then relaxes her body into the role of foot duvet. The first gingerly dipped toe in a slightly-too-hot bath - if it's too hot for a toe, take heed. Massage your soles in the jacuzzi, pushing your big toe against the force of a jet and fleetingly considering getting it stuck. After a heavy-footed day, removing muddy boots at the door and stepping, swollen and tired, on to a cold slate floor.