Most people don't feel comfortable in their feet anymore. With no shoes they walk differently, creeping along self consciously as if naked. So they encase them in leather and plastic and feel better up top but lose connection completely with good old mother earth.
I remember tramping high in the Pasubio Mountains north of Venice with friend of the family Piero who knew no English and I knew no Italian which is a great way to experience the landscape together. Anyway we kept meeting these very well dressed Italian climbers with all the gear including alpine hats with feathers who were aghast that I was up there in bare feet. It was summer so there was no danger of my feet falling off and after time the soles harden and climbing becomes a breeze.
Of course there are plenty of times when I have to wear shoes so I don't get an errant knife in my foot, but I can't wait to get them off and stand in some lush grass.
Orgasmic!
News and views on art, music, food and life 'Down Under' (or 'On Top' depending on your perspective)
6 comments:
I totally agree.
and equally orgasmic to run out to the mailbox barefoot in 6 inches of fresh snow...
though, yes, I'd prefer some lush grass, or warm beach stones, or even some garden muck.
Welcome Leon, enjoyed looking at your site.
Fern - or cow poo. In my hippy days I used to milk our old Jersey cow morning and night and the little biting insects called sandflys drove me crazy so I stood in her fresh warm poo and hey presto an organic insect repellant. It repelled the wife and kids too!
Yes, that's true. And when they go into the tall towers of glass many wear colourful pieces of fabric wrapped around their necks in complex knots of servitude. It would be an insult to gorillas to say that the wearing of neckties by human males in the workplace is a cultural practice equivalent to the dominance displays of gorillas beating their chests in the jungle.
masterymistery at cosmic rapture
Do you go into a glass tower Cosmic? It's funny even as a hippy with crazy, colourful clothes it was a uniform, a badge of who we were. We are sheepish aren't we. Love the "knot of servitude", there is a poem there somewhere!
Post a Comment