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Bravely Barefoot
Discarding our “protective layers” in order to feel more deeply…
I’m sitting on my back deck. I have just spent the last 2 hours sloughing off a lifetime of dead skin from my feet, rubbing out the protective callouses, grinding down the ridge on my heels, caused by wearing my docs all day, every day.
My feet needed some love, some gratitude for getting me through safely, while I navigate this messy life.
The nails are a little ridged and misshapen these days, the big toes angled slightly in from all those years of pointy-toed shoes in the 80s. These feet have danced on tables, wandered dirty streets in foreign lands and always gotten me to where I needed to be. They have endured hundreds of blisters, random cuts while beach rock hopping, bruises from the time I was teaching dance and lost toenails from wearing roller-skates that were too small; thankfully no broken bones.
There is now a pile of dead skin accumulating next to me, like personal confetti. With each swipe of the pumice stone I am revealing the soft, new skin underneath.
The soles of my feet are pink and tingling. Not sure whether I am rubbing too hard or they are just excited to be free of all things old and dead. No blood showing, so I think they are just happy.
