I love being barefoot.
When I was a kid I grew up on a farm and I was a veritable hobbit. I ran around naked from the ankle down. I had a thick layer of keratinised skin on my feet and I could run across the sharp gravel in front of the house with no issues. For some reason I hated socks and shoes.
I only started wearing them when I went to school. And they were off directly as I got home. But part time jobs and after school activities broke my habit and I succumbed to show-wearing! lol
I know this next bit is an odd link - Oma Desala was a character who spoke in riddles on Stargate SG1. She told Daniel to stand with no barrier between him and the ground. It took him a bit of time to figure out what she meant - too much for a soon to be ascended being if you ask me.
But it struck a chord in my weary 30-self. I started taking my shoes off when I could. When I couldn’t I wear flip-flops if I can get away with it. Walking the dogs in mid-winter with a howling gale and RipCurl flips on, might well attract attention but it means I am quickly bear-footed as soon as we get to the park or beach.
For me there is nothing sexual about it. I get no sexual titillation from feet - mine or others. If a guy is a foot-man, I’ll happily suck his toes or lick his sole, or offer my foot to be worshipped - I’ll get off on his enjoyment rather than the sensation itself.
No, for me the joy of bare-footedness is the connection to place, to Mother Earth and Father Time. More people should do it.
