On the Other Side of a Dream

I wondered today if there is a ceiling on happiness.

There are so many moments when I am completely full of bliss lately, and I wonder if I could possibly feel any more happiness. Today I broke the ceiling on my happiness, and I realized that once your internal limit is reached, you can expand beyond your own experience and share in others' happiness. When your own dreams are fulfilled, you can appreciate participating in the other side of another's dreams, helping them to fulfill theirs.

This beautiful realization showed itself to me in so many ways today. I saw it with nearly everything I did. Today is my 36th birthday, but instead of feeling self-centered, it felt other-centered. I saw the many small, sometimes miniscule, roles which I play in the realization of others' dreams. I lived my life today on the other side of a dream.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you are so full of gratitude for another that you have a hard time expressing it, while at the same time, the other person is expressing the same thing to you? These times of gracious duality are so beautiful! This is when our life is completely synchronous with other being's, and the depth of our unity so simply expressed is awe-inspiring. In those moments, don't you feel some great sense of satisfaction...that this is what we're aspiring towards? That this is how life can unfold in every moment?

Tonight, for instance. I had the most incredible meal of my life, truly. Were I to go into all of the details, I would probably lose your interest, because what's perfect and meaningful to me might not mean the same to you, but I must share the formula. In its reduced form, the formula looks much like the "Field of Dreams" movie, where "If you build it, they will come." A man had a dream, a talent, a purpose, and drive. He made the dream happen with the faith that the other reagents in the formula would appear...which is where I come in. I simply had a vision coupled with a desire. Mine was not a creative vision, as his was. Mine was a desire for an experience. Together, and only together, our synergy resulted in both a tangible means (for us, a meal, for him, money), and a spiritual result--the dualistic gratitude mentioned above. I was fawning over the experience his restaurant provided my family, while he was humbly grateful for the patronage.

My part is small in the fulfillment of this man's dream. However, I played small roles in the manifestation of many dreams today. For example, I would not even be in NYC were it not for the inception and realization of Mrs. Sweetapple's dream of creating the Sweetapple Performance Company. NY OnStage I'm sure began with a dream, and is now fulfilling this national competition which we are participating in. We couldn't be enjoying this space that the Sheriton is providing us here in Midtown, were it not for the dream of its founder. The wonders of NYC itself are multitudinous and tremendous.

Every step I'm taking in Manhattan, I'm realizing the wondrous fulfillment of so many dreams. Dreams that could not manifest without the participation of others. Is this not great testimony to our oneness?

I find it so ironic that this small-town country girl who dreams about homesteading and sustainable living can find so much revelation about unity in this hustle-and-bustle metropolis. Yet a profound sense of unity it is that courses through my veins right now, and has inspired me to write this blog.

As I previously mentioned, the formula for realizing a dream had two components--the tangible and the spiritual, I think that this short span of time in New York City has provided the witness to the tangible aspect of unity that I previously missed, as I had focused so much on the spiritual.

Again, I am so grateful that the city has provided me this new perspective on oneness, and I hope this is one of those cases where the city is thankful to me for some contribution I made to it, which I can't begin to guess. Perhaps it's this blog? Perhaps it's in the bright smile I share with others I see throughout the day--the taxi drivers, the pedestrians, the service workers...maybe my small doses of sincere radiance which seep out of my heart through my words and actions are miniscule when taken as a single moment, but perhaps I'm again contributing to a much larger panorama, placing one bean on the "good" side of the scale for each individual beam of light.

I love NY. I am grateful to all those who identified their talents, recognized a need, formed a dream, and made it real. The wonder of this city is immense. Everything from the mundane water and sewer systems to the glamour of Broadway to the simple pleasures in the Greenmarket to the symbolism of the Statue of Liberty to a simple pastrami sandwich cause me reverence.

This is what it feels to me to be in the heart of America--the heart of its soul. I am still completely in love with small, rural farms, intimate communities, deep forests, natural wonders, and other components of this wildly diverse human experience, but I cannot ignore the pulse and vibrancy of this tremendous city, SO unlike any other city I've traveled to. I wish I could express the vibe that I've tuned into, but I'm still sorting through it myself. I can say that it's swept me off my feet, and I can't seem to wipe the perma-grin from my face. :D

Heart and soul,

Julie

Yup, It's a Metaphor

Lisa, you're RIGHT. I do need to make this a metaphorical barefoot journey. Thanks for that suggestion, which took me months to ponder...

For a while I thought I would have a bunch of different blogs, each one carrying through a particular theme, but I've come to the realization that I pretty much blog for me and me alone anyway, and also so many of my life's themes overlap, that this "barefoot journey" would be such an incomplete picture of me and who I am without all the random thoughts.

You know what the crazy part is? I'm beginning to believe that the thoughts aren't so random. In fact, I believe that the "barefoot journey" title absolutely sums it up. If anything, I live my life barefoot. Naked. I'm tactile-y trudging down my path, feeling every stone, every branch, and sometimes picking bugs off the bottoms of my feet. (Yes, I actually did this the other day...my foot was on a table and my husband said, "Is that a spider stuck to the bottom of your foot???" Hence, the heebie-jeebies began as I made wimpy, flicking motions to remove the big, black, hairy corpse as strange sounds came out of my mouth resembling a ghost trying to fight off an impending sneeze).

Yes, a barefoot journey perfectly describes my life. I speak openly--both to my benefit and demise. I wear my heart on my sleeve. At times my search for knowledge, enlightenment, and idealism reminds me of a bohemian wanderer. And, in a more shallowly, or perhaps literal, way, I hate to accessorize.

Barefoot I am.

Tonight, my barefeet are walking on hot coals. The coals represent the great amount of trouble I can get myself into...if I don't tread lightly, I will be severly burned.

My mother-in-law (henceforth referred to as my "MIL") is gravely ill, and I find myself in this strange position of having strong opinions and no one really caring what my opinion is. I keep justifying sticking my nose in by rationalizing that my husband agrees with me wholeheartedly, but he's afraid to stick up for his own ideas against his siblings. He's got a case of the-left-out-sibling because he's very much younger than the closest sibling, being a twilight surprise for his parents. It's as if they raised the other four children, then raised Greg. There are the "family photos" of the other kids growing up, going camping, taking vacations...and none contain him. This has made him feel quite lonely where family dynamics are concerned, so this is where I come in, knowing how he feels about a subject, and flapping my trap to be his voice, and getting myself frustrated and probably alienated.

Hot coals. Will I tread lightly over them and end up unscathed, or will I stomp my barefeet too heavily and end up in the same place, but scarred (alienated) forever after???

Timid Tenderfoot

I'm afraid I was a bit bold yesterday, and bit off a little more than my little tenderfeet could chew.

Feeling quite empowered by my hugely successful walk on Sunday, I thought I was ready to "step" out into the big world. I realized that not only were my soles not ready, but my mind wasn't prepared for the mixed emotions I felt and how to handle the questioning looks and comments!

Setting: OHMI in Waterford, which is Oakland Homeschool Music, Inc, the place where my homeschooled boys take orchestra and chorus classes. I have an hour to kill before I begin setting up the room and music stands for Beginning Orchestra, and it's beautiful outside.

Dilemma: As I don't get much time to myself since we've shifted to homeschooling, I prefer to take my hour in the peace of my car, where I can relax, listen to NPR, read, meditate, catch up on the news...you get the picture. However, I really wanted to walk barefoot EVERY day (that's me, setting lofty goals that I know I'll never achieve, then berating myself when I don't uphold them), and it seemed a waste of the sunshine to be sitting. I decide to kick off my Birkenstocks and journey barefoot.

Realization 1: Neglected parking lots are not a barefoot walker's friend. I barely had two confident steps in a row. I managed to suppress the "Ow!" that kept trying to surface. If I'm going to be barefoot, I must be brave! I began walking slowly. Lightly. Timidly. My path did not entail a straight line, but much like a rock climber must assess where the next best foot- and handholds are, I had to choose my next steps wisely. Sometimes I hopped, or placed only the balls of my feet down. I looked and felt ridiculous. What was I doing? If I could only make it to the road, perhaps there is a sidewalk where I can walk in better peace. I dodged gravel, broken asphalt pieces, debris (some of it dangerous broken glass), uneven heaving in the surface, and the occasional (gulp) bug. Yes, when I saw the grody bug that I could've missed and thereby squished, I did think that perhaps this barefooting thing would have to be reassessed. I called upon the glory of the previous walk to inspire me to continue. Then came...

Realization #2: I don't yet have the strength of character to be barefooting it in public. Car number one pulls into the lot--remember, I know many of these people, but only for the past few months...not enough data for them to not rule me out of my mind, or perhaps just a little off my rocker. The van slows down. I wonder how obvious it is to an on-looker that I have no shoes nor socks on. Well, this driver noticed. Oh no. Slowing down....slower....WINDOW BEING ROLLED DOWN!!!!! Shoot! Do they think I'm homeless? Penniless? Been mugged? I'm feeling a little--a lot--shy! Flushing cheeks that I hope will be interpreted as too much sun. "What are you doing???" comes a voice calling out to me from a face I gratefully know well. Phew--embarrassment goes down just a notch. "Oh, just going for a little walk...barefoot...you know, just something I'm trying to do..." and on and on probably a bit too much. I really can't remember what I said exactly, but it was along those lines. Being late for class, they hastened on their way with a friendly snicker, a shrug, and some comment like, "OK, weirdo" or something similar. I laughed...it actually wasn't a bad interaction. Wouldn't it be worse if they DIDN'T say anything, but kept their thoughts to themselves, drawing all sorts of strange conclusions which I could neither confirm nor deny? I laughed at myself.

I arrived at the road--no sidewalk. Well, I can't just stroll around the parking lot for an hour. I meander back to my car. Mission failed.

On the way, car #2 pulls up. It's my friend Mary, and I have milk for her from our co-op. I grab the cooler and meet her at her van, being quick about it, as I want to quickly bring it to her so she doesn't feel she needs to carry it across the parking lot, her being 7 months pregnant and all. No time to grab my shoes. I end up barefoot at the back of her van, and I can't remember who brought it up first, but we have the inevitable conversation about my feet. Knowing that she's not in a rush, I explain a little more to her. Then.....

Realization #3: I can use this blog as an excuse for my naked appendages. After I while, I add something like, "Well, I'm blogging about it," as if I'm doing research for a piece I'm doing--yes, I'm not above deluding myself into believing that I must continue this barefootedness for the sake of "my work", you know, like I'm a great journalist who must make this sacrifice.

Dilemma #2: I am proud that I make choices based solely on my own intellect, curiosity, and adventurous spirit. However, I am not always comfortable with not fitting in, and do worry too much about what other people will think. This tends to not influence my decision-making, but it still weighs on my mind.

Conclusion: I will continue to post, and you will continue to laugh at my crazy, jumbled ramblings as I try to reconcile the above dilemma. :D

Primarily Primate

I've always enjoyed feet, and abhorred shoes.

Even socks annoy me...to wear. I don't mind if others wear them--in fact, they can be quite cute, especially if you have some fun with them and sport festive knit graphics, or perhaps you prefer to share a message of "love" or "peace" with your socks. I've seen more than one occasion where the right sock can become a conversation piece.

But shoes? No thanks, not in the house. Gross. Dirty, icky, disgusting soles dragged around my home. Wiped them on the mat, you say? Big whoop--see those grooves in the bottom? Perfect for tracking all sorts of things in...unmentionable things. Because, you see, in your shoes, you have NO idea what you've stepped in. Can't feel a thing. You think my bare feet are disgusting? At least I know when I've landed in a pile of...oh yeah, unmentionable. Right.

This month's Smithsonian Magazine contained a little blurb about barefoot running. Well, I'm not much of a runner these days, but I do find myself propelled forward by my feet from time to time, so it did tickle my fancy a bit. The very next day after I read this blurb, a friend posted on Facebook that she had taken her dog for the first walk of Spring...barefoot! I was quite impressed, knowing that this woman lives on a gravel road, and I thought more about the concept. I was quite smitten with the idea, actually.

A few days later, barefoot walking, and its anatomical benefits, was mentioned briefly on a television show. OK, that's it, I'm getting this message over and over. I'm trying it.

I set off this morning for my first barefoot walk. Knowing my little virgin soles might not be tough enough for extreme temperatures which my asphalt road would sure provide after a chilly night, I had to exercise enough patience for the sun to warm my way.

I have to now chuckle when I reflect on my announcement to my husband, "I'm going to go for a walk...barefoot!" and how he didn't even flinch. I guess he's a bit used to my unconventional lifestyle choices!

Giddy. Silly. Adventurous. Rebellious. I felt all of these things as I practically skipped out the front door, no socks to don, no laces to tighten. Ooh, whoops, I'll have to sweep those little tiny pieces of I-don't-know-what off of my front porch from my son's T-Rex archaeological dig science kit...they're tiny, they're round, and they're sticking to the bottom of my feet! So, after my first few steps, I paused and brushed the bottom of my feet against my pant leg to clear them--an important new move I would repeat a few times on my first foray.

Warm. The sidewalk, the blacktop driveway...it all feels so warm on my foot. Not hot. Soothing. It feels goooooood. I notice how walking up the hill to the road feels natural. Not at all like walking uphill in shoes. How do describe it??? It's easy! It doesn't feel at all like a struggle! Interesting...perhaps it's just the lilt in my walk, though--a little of the giddiness lightening my step? Noted...

I reach the road. Without breaking stride, I step into the road--a dead-end, very quiet residential street. There are only nine homes on my street, which is 1/4 mile long. I know all of the neighbors here, and most of them know me well enough to simply shake their heads at my bare feet and chalk it up as another of Julie's eccentricities. Perhaps only the new neighbors next door might wonder if I was perhaps just a bit insane. Of course, in this Metro Detroit Great Recession economy, they'd probably first just assume I didn't have money for shoes.

Well, nevermind it--I am happy that I feel confident enough in myself and my neighbors' brotherly love to only consider for an instant how this shoeless shenanigan would be perceived. On with it!

At first I think it's my hopeless optimism. Next, I wonder if it's some subconscious desire to want to be different. I disregard both of these notions...it is just simply GLORIOUS!!!! I feel so FREE! I feel so HAPPY! I feel like I'm not walking, but dancing! Everything flows, everything has rhythm! I'm not just putting one foot in front of the other, plodding forth to get some mandatory exercise. My whole body is participating in this wonderfully balanced motion. I feel it in my hips, which slightly sway...yes, yes, I'm actually swaggering! Not intentionally, but there is definitely a smooth side-to-side, curvy sort of pattern that has emerged. I even sort of feel sexy! That may be overstating how an on-looker would perceive me, but to go from a clog-walker to a fluid-walker is definitely evoking that sexy kind of self-perception!

Ok, so I'm totally blissed out, and I phase into the next stage. Earth connectedness. I feel so in tune with the ground below me that I'm also feeling like an extension of it. Perhaps asphalt isn't the most romantic material for a tree-hugger like me to feel extended from, but it doesn't feel like only the road giving rise to me. It also feels like the grass running along beside me. And I feel like I can imagine, eons ago, what it was like to be walking with purpose, packed dirt beneath my feet. Am I walking to the well? Am I searching for berries? Am I perhaps journeying towards a new home? I know, now you're thinking that I just might be a bit insane, or in the very least that I have a ridiculously wild imagination, but it's true. I am thinking these things.

I recently read "The Call of the Wild" with one of my sons. Do you remember this story? Buck, the St. Bernard/Shepherd mix reconnects to his canine roots in the Alaskan wilderness. The omniscient reader knows that Buck often has memories that tie him back even further, to the first days of domesticity, when he warmed himself around the cave-dweller's fire. Memories that were not of his current incarnation, but were either of a past-life or perhaps a collective memory.

I cannot say that I was having any visions or any recall of barefoot walkers, but I could imagine it. My mind definitely drifted there as I consciously imagined my barefoot ancestors. Could I, or would I want to, eventually train my feet to withstand the uneven ground, pebbles, twigs, as they did? What would my feet look like?

And I look at my feet...they look pretty much the same as they looked tens of thousands of years ago. Hundreds of thousands...except perhaps the toes are a bit shorter and less dextrous. Primarily, my feet were that of any primate's! And we humans are the only ones to be wearing shoes...to protect our feet? Hmmm....I'm not seeing a grand argument for that, as most people develop foot problems in their middle age, despite our high-tech footwear. Need more padding for troublesome joints? That argument is falling away quickly as more and more research shows that barefoot is actually less impactful.

But wait a minute, all this scientific pondering is taking away from my sensual foot grace! Let's get back to the walking!

So now I'm trying to quantify my experience so I can communicate it to my husband, who is an engineer and is never convinced by something "feeling" right. Words, I need words....examples...ok, I can feel my pants lightly whooshing over the tops of my feet. That feels nice. My steps are quiet, and I'm noticing more bird calls than usual. Nice...my foot is moving all over the place. Ok, that's harder to describe. My toes, the sides of my foot, my heel, what's going on down there? How is my foot rolling? It's all just happening very naturally, and faster than I can really think about each individual motion...

I have now turned down the nature path, still paved, and now we get a little hilly. Shoot. I hate walking hills--especially the downhills, where I have to take teeny, tiny steps because I always feel so ill-footed. But, wait! What's going on? This is FUN, and it feels GOOD! (Yes, I do know I keep repeating that, but it was a very prominent thought throughout the walk)! The downhills are EASY. The step is actually reversing its motion--the toes and the balls of the feet are touching down first, and the heel fills in the step...weird! Well, it makes sense and all, but what's weird is how natural it feels, how uncharacteristically steady I feel, and how it all happened intuitively. Goodness gracious, after all these generations of walking in shoes, how grateful I am that our brains haven't forgotten what to do!!!

This all sounds terribly exaggerated, doesn't it??? Sigh....it really was that significant to me. I have never enjoyed a walk so much. I've never felt so naturally groovy about exercise! I felt like I had finally found a new way to ground myself, so to speak! Are you very in touch with your intuition, reader? Can you recall making a change in your life that, once made, felt SO right there was no denying its place on your journey? This was one of those moments to me.

What does this "barefooting it" experience mean for my future? I have no idea...we'll see as I share my experiences on this blog. For today, it means some slightly sore soles for me...I ended up walking over a mile this first time, which was probably pushing it a little.

What does that mean to you? Well, I don't know...perhaps my passion, which has driven me to start this blog, will inspire others to give it a shot, which may result in similar reactions, and at the very least, some healthier feet and joints? Maybe it will make you think twice before putting shoes on your children's feet indoors? How's that pair of thick-soled tennis shoes looking to you now when compared with a traditional moccasin?

Love your feet, but shave your toes,

Jules