The soul of my foot sees the light and dark.
As one foot moves closer to life, the other moves closer to death.
“Don’t get stuck in the mud”, they say – it can be stagnant, smelly, squishy and too comfortable.
“Don’t expose yourself”, they say – it can be overly bright, windy, turbulent and unguarded.
Well then, how in the name of Mother Nature can I move?
I can’t pick up my foot and I can’t put it down.
Well let’s come to the middle ground, the middle path, the middle way.
As my sole lifts up, it touches the faint breeze, and lightness lighting up my vulnerability with ease.
You are safe to shine, you are safe to show the softness of your soul. Be courageous to hold yourself up and take flight.
As my sole touches the earth, I feel the rawness of living, the primal darkness of the womb of Mother Earth from which I came from – from which we all did. It’s the undercurrents, the messy ooziness of it all.
The darkness cannot exist without a movement towards the lightness.
The movement is constant, the journey is constant, the growth is constant.
My soul is good enough, safe to be seen, soft to be held.
The soul of my foot is always felt.
Buddhist Retreat Centre, Ixopo, KwaZulu-Natal, September 2018
© Francesca Annenberg