Finding my Feet
I don’t think we consider our feet enough, especially since they hold everything else up. Thanks for reading <3
A Song For The Road:
Feet. Yuck. But we all have ‘em, if we’re lucky. Here is my foot journey:
A few months ago, I got a massage and they were shocked at the state of my feet. A few days later, I saw a lady talking about her foot dexterity online and I realized that I can’t even spread my toes without a great deal of thought and effort. In my journey to heal my soul, this seemed like an easy place to start. Joke’s on me. All healing hurts to a certain degree.
I started off small, just taking a few minutes every day to flex my feet around, practice stretching my toes. But if you know me, you know I’m impatient as hell. I HATE waiting and slow progress is a swift death to dopamine. After abandoning this endevour for who knows how long, I decided that I should really stick with it…
Feet have been incredibly prevalant in my life, not just because I love to walk and dance and jump around. I grew up heavily involved in the Episocpal church, that means Holy Week services. You remember the story of Mary washing Jesus feet with her hair and tears? And later Jesus washes all the deciples feet at the Last Supper? Well folks, on Maundy Thursday that’s exactly what we did! The priests and deacons would wash the feet of the congregation, and I, as an acolyte, would carry towels and warm water, and help clean up at the end. My friends always thought this was a very weird thing that I did, but it always felt important to me. Service to others.
I spent 2024, and half of 2025, giving Ionic Detox Footbaths to folks - most of whom I couldn’t bring myself to charge. It was a small gift I could give back to the world, to the people who were holding me up. But thanks to all the care, I did find my feet again, and I used them to run off to my next adventure.
I’ve started trying to put my fingers between my toes again. Just a few minutes every night. Then I slather my tired dogs in Tiger Balm and give ‘em a good rub. I’ve gotten pretty consistent with this, and maybe its the feet, maybe it’s not, but my whole life is getting better. I’ve found a sense of groundedness, of individualism. “Standing on my own two feet.” if we want to be on the nose about it.
Basement of Zabriskie Hall @ Wells College (2016-2020)
The cherry on top is finding this angel of a man who can’t wait to rub my feet at night. I always fall asleep which he seems to be absolutely giddy about.
I’m not sure how I got so lucky. After all, I’m just a girl.
