Massaging my foot the other night I began to contemplate where my anchor to Earth has tread this past half century. It started off kicking about in my mother’s womb – a secret, sacred, dark place that I and only I have ever known – or ever shall. Upon seeing the light of day, it dragged me from this place to that as my branches lengthened, hardened and reached their summit at approximately twelve years of age. In that time, of most significance, was probably the fact they touched my father’s lips. My feet were the only ones he ever kissed.
As one matures and life grows more and more real in one’s conscious perception, that one reaches for shoes each and every day to help shield us from uneven surfaces, abrasions and other unexpected pitfalls waiting for us at practically every second of every day. Despite the intermediary, my feet have at least come within millimeters of surfaces significant to the history of my species.
They gently caressed the cobblestones at Yad Vashem – the very stones that those in the Warsaw Ghetto struggled to traverse as they strained to survive the siege that would swallow most of them. Undoubtedly many expelled their final breath upon those very stones.
Quietly my feet tiptoed through the alleys of the Old City of Jerusalem amongst aggressive peddlers and distracted devotees on their ways to worship. Traversing the very stones of legend and lore – of King’s, soldiers (both ancient and modern), hopeful beggars, the hopeless seeking hope, evildoers seeking absolution, and those who believe they are that absolution as they take leave of their senses all together as with each step they take they transform into that in which they most fervently believe. Well…in their minds (or more accurately mindlessness) at least.
My soles have stood firmly before the palaces of empires, both crumbling and climbing (behind the gates of course, but present nonetheless). Marching up the stairs of temples to democracy and descending stairs of war-scared relics of fallen totalitarian monoliths – both ancient, modern and soon to come.
My means of roaming have fearlessly tread most of the four corners of the earth, but have halted in earnest at a safe distance behind the point of no return before too many a grave. It is my feet and my feet alone which will eventually carry me beyond that point where my beloved father will be able to kiss my feet yet again.
K's Pensées 