ground

A text that is not yet done.

A text that is not yet done.

May 16, 2020
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Started to write this long post on victim vs perpetrator given a recent case making the Swedish media, of a well-known man getting caught buying sex, which is illegal in Sweden.

But that text is not done.
Not ready to publish.
Perhaps I weaved too many threads into it, making it more of a mess than anything coherent?

I will let it be, for a day or two, revisiting it to see what it wants to become. What the message really is. For me. And perhaps, for you.

I think I will step outside instead, letting my bare feet meet ground, soil, grass, pebbles, twigs and sticks. Letting the wind blow my hair, the sun warm my skin, the smells remind me of springs of years gone by. Listening to bird-song and rustling leaves, feeling my own heartbeat, steadily ticking away, grounding myself. In life.


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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Barefoot.

October 11, 2018
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Barefoot shoes.
The best (albeit an oxymoron of grand proportions)!
Even better; barefoot for real.

It is a wonderful way to connect to what is.
Making me, without a shadow of a doubt, be extremely aware of the way my feet meet the ground, and what that ground consists of. Each step can be different.

Paved roads.
Gravel paths.
Grass. Cold from the morning dew, or warm from a hot summers day.

A muddy uphill stretch, making my toes dig in for traction.
Small pebbles hurting my feet – like stepping on Lego.
Acorns and leaves, chestnuts and broken off twigs.

Grounding myself.
Becoming more aware of what else is around me, as my feet somehow lead the way. On an adventurous exploration of my closest surroundings.

Sharpening my senses. All of them. Feeling each and every small irregularity of the ground beneath me, irregularities totally masked when wearing “normal shoes”. Noticing the birds chirping, the squirrel jumping quickly across the path up a tree, the colors of autumn – the vibrant greens, reds, yellows and browns. Orange. Black. Contrasted with the crips clear air of October – making me look up at the bluest of blue skies.

Barefoot I meet the world around me, closer, fuller. Naked. Skin on ground.
As I finish my run, my feet tingle, blood flow maximized, a sensation of being very much alive.

Dip my feet in a water bucket in the garden, jiggling them around to get rid of the worst of the remnants from my run, a leaf stuck onto of my foot, grass between my toes, and a splash of mud here and there. Surprisingly clean, honestly. The wetter the ground – like the morning dew of my run this week – the more visible it is, that I’ve actually run without shoes. On a dry summer day – my feet almost look the same before and after a run.

Regardless of when… the feeling! Incomparable. Something akin to the sensation of a winter bath after a stint in a really hot sauna. Suddenly my entire body is tingling with life, pulsating, a-knocking to remind me, it’s there.

It’s here.
Life. To be lived.
To its fullest.

 

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