I’ve never been what you would call a hippie. In my late teens and early twenties I had shoulder-length hair – and a beard. Flower Power was at its height when I was about 18 or 19 years old. But the whole hippie lifestyle thing? Not really: my day to day life was fairly conventional: university then work, regular job and all that.
Barefoot in the Past
I can’t remember exactly when, but there were a couple of weeks in my late teens or early twenties when I took to going around with bare feet. Somehow I had this romantic notion that closer contact between the soles of my feet and – whatever I was walking on – would somehow connect me better with nature, or whatever. In practice, a good part of the time I was walking on hard, paved surfaces. Of itself, that was not a problem, nor particularly enjoyable! But the problem with pavements are the little bits of debris which find their way there: stones, bits of gravel and, worse still if not paying attention, broken glass or other sharp objects.
No serious injury occurred in these two weeks, but the odd pebble or stone was, frankly, painful. Cool grass was lovely and everyone has experienced the feeling of bare feet on a sandy beach. Painful in a hot climate, sensual at cooler temperatures!
So, did I really feel more in commune with nature? At the time, not really. I soon went back to wearing socks and shoes. More practical, less risk of injury.
Fast forward to last year. One of the side-effects of my medical treatment was a loss of feeling (touch and temperature) in my feet. About a year ago, this effect reached a peak. Those who have experienced peripheral neuropathy often describe it as like walking around with a pair of sponges strapped to the bottom of the feet. Not unpleasant – just a bit weird! And it really screws up your balance! At worst, I was staggering a bit like a drunk person. Like riding a bicycle, the faster I walked, the steadier was my gait.
Many people experience pain as well as a strange, fizzy “hot and cold at the same time” tingling sensation. The tingling was strangely pleasant, the pain not. Fortunately, I was prescribed a drug which took away the pain completely, leaving me with a pair of feet that didn’t quite feel that they belonged to me.
Over the past year, the numbness has mostly subsided and the feeling has returned, especially to the soles of my feet. But a strange thing has happened: the newly re-grown sense of touch is somehow enhanced, as if my brain hasn’t got used to the novelty of feeling again. So now, when my feet are bare, I seem to feel every little bit of the pile in a carpet. It’s as if the nerve cells that give us a sense of touch are trying to make up for the lost time. And, I have to say, it’s really rather pleasant.
I’m not suggesting for one moment that treatment with strong drugs with side-effects is something to be welcomed. But life does have its compensations. For example, experiencing the sight of a beautiful sunset (thank you Harlech in June!), a stunningly beautiful beach (Iona in September) or many others of nature’s bounties, the memories from my youth of cool grass on bare feet come to mind.
And all the madness and discord in the world about which, sadly, too many of these posts concentrate on, drift far, far away.