A
\nBAREFOOT RHAPSODY
\nby Jon
\nThe Barefoot Pilgrim<\/p>\n
Dedicated
\nto all female barefooters who can identify with it.<\/p>\n
It’s
\na hot summer afternoon in Oxford, the temperature has reached 91
\ndegrees which makes it the hottest day of the year so far. You emerge
\nin the distance from the far side of Radcliffe Square cutting a
\nunique figure which instantly catches my attention. You’re a petite
\nstudent girl of around 21 years old, slowly meandering beneath the
\neminent domes and spires. You stand about 5′ 3 in height with a
\nwild mane of auburn hair and a white flower placed in it. Around your
\nneck hangs a loose garland of daisies recently picked in the
\nuniversity parks. In one hand you are carrying a brown course book.<\/p>\n
First I notice
\nyour full length milkmaid dress. It is pale green in colour with the
\nruffled hemline sweeping along the ground half a pace behind each
\nfootstep in petticoat like waves. As you walk it undulates in a
\nrhythmic dance interspersed by tautness in places as your ankles
\ndemand forward motion of it. Now as you approach closer I continue to
\nobserve you in an idle study. On the pale flesh beneath your
\ncollarbone is a striking, dark brown henna tattoo in the form of a
\npentagram, a symbol of nature spirituality. You cut a beautiful
\nfigure, yet radically different to the other girls around town.
\nObviously you are no follower of the fashions at present popular
\namong young women, one might even call your look slightly eccentric.
\nPersonally, I applaud you for choosing to be different from the crowd
\nwhich demonstrates intelligence over mindlessness. Beauty and
\nintelligence are your watchwords. You appear completely relaxed, your
\ngentle walking movements being almost set to slow music. This
\ngraceful manner contrasts starkly to that of the other people dashing
\naround busily pursuing their affairs.<\/p>\n
I
\nlook to your feet and assume you must be wearing thin flip-flops or
\nIndian cowhide sandals probably obscured by the large ruffle as it
\nsways along, My attention is now more focused. Closer yet, I still
\ncan’t see any footwear, where is it? Now I’m really curious. A sudden
\nrealisation jolts trough my brain, \u201cShe’s BAREFOOT!\u201d Of course!
\nThis is why your body language was so different when I saw you across
\nthe other side of the square. It makes you someone special in my
\nbook; a rare and beautiful creature who dares to defy conformist
\nhumbug in order to express your own spirit. In your eyes fashionable
\nflip-flops and absurd platforms are to be eschewed as both dangerous
\nand unnecessary. After all what is a sandal but a sole and a few
\nstraps to hold it on? Why bother with overpriced fig leaves to
\nplacate convention when one can experience the far greater pleasure
\nof having bare soles in direct contact with ground. It also doesn’t
\ncost anything either which makes it the world’s cheapest, yet most
\nelegant fashion accessory. It makes SO much sense!<\/p>\n
As
\nyou pass slowly in front of me, one small, happily bare, foot emerges
\nfrom under the dancing ruffle to reveal nearly its full length. I sit
\nfascinated, admiring its ascetic beauty, its smallness and
\nappallingly dirty condition. A large blotch of dark grime has been
\ningrained on its upper part by the constant wiping action of the
\ndust-laden hem sweeping over it. The toes, though slightly short, are
\nperfectly formed, free from nail polish and a little splayed as is
\nnatural from years of freedom. The black street dust has risen up
\nbetween the big toe and the next one fanning out above the area where
\nthey join. All of the toes in general have been given a liberal
\ncoating of the ubiquitous black powder. When you step forward, they
\nsplay out on the paving slab, lifting from it very softly as if
\ngiving it a tiny kiss.<\/p>\n
My
\ngaze turns upwards to your face. It is attractive though not in an
\nartificial way. The cheekbones are high and well defined but any hint
\nof severity is dissolved by a kind mouth and eyes which smile. One
\nmight describe your face as pretty in an earthy, real kind of
\nattractiveness. Your expression is so far away. Are you pondering
\nfuture exams or indulging thoughts of sweet romance? Or are you
\nenjoying this moment, spreading those dusty toes as you step gently
\non the sun-warmed slabs? Your hair is a wild mountain of
\nchaotic, auburn locks cascading to your waist in a torrent of untamed
\nbeauty; handiwork uniquely crafted by mother Nature’s own genius to
\nperfectly compliment your barefoot lifestyle. Often in its
\nunruliness, it partly falls over your face obscuring one eye and is
\nquickly brushed clear by a sweep of your fingers. The white flower
\nnestles on the upper right side of your head to symbolise your love
\nof nature. The bloom is a rose, which though made of trimmed cloth
\nappears totally authentic in every respect.<\/p>\n
The
\ntiered cotton dress is of the early 1970’s , yet rendered timeless by
\nthe swish of its own undulations syncopating with those of your
\nfemale curves. Its your favourite dress, purchased as a lucky find in
\na charity shop some years ago. You chose it because it’s sensuous,
\nmade of the lightest Indian cotton, yet in no way lewd or tasteless.
\nNow it’s showing signs of wear with threadbare parts around the hem
\nand the stitching coming apart in places. In some ways though this
\nonly serves to add to its charm. Its such a special dress that you
\nlovingly repair it and have vowed to wear it until it falls to bits.
\nThe true essence of your uncommon beauty is the alchemy of all these
\nthings; your hair, smile, magic dress and body language all woven
\ninto living poetry by the catalyst of your barefootedness.<\/p>\n
Now
\nyou are ahead of me the lilt of your dresses lower ruffle reveals two
\nsmall, very black soles ingrained with the graphite-like summer dust.
\nAs if to pick up on my thoughts you pause and raise one foot behind
\nyou to check its colour. The folds of soiled Indian cotton fall away
\nto reveal a truly filthy foot. You look at its sole over your
\nshoulder and giggle to yourself in amusement and satisfaction.
\nYour heart beats faster, the combination of bare feet and hot
\nsunshine becoming ever more intoxicating as you walk along. Mmmmm,
\nthe pavements heat feels so blessedly delicious that you’re
\ntransported entirely beyond the cares of this world into a heady
\nplace of rapture. Your being inwardly revels in the sheer bliss of
\ncaressing creation with each filthy sole gently placed on the hot
\nground. A caress which is reciprocated as the sun’s heat is conducted
\nupwards from the pavement, back through those same soles saturating
\nyour body with its energy. A feeling of great gratitude flows though
\nyou for this interplay of the spiritual and the sensual. Waves of
\nrelief and tranquillity lap over your mind, you are filled with
\ngladness simply to be the person you are at this moment in time. You
\nclose your eyes and look upwards to the sun feeling its life-giving
\nradiance beat upon your face. The moments pure joy is overwhelming
\nand spontaneously you twirl round twice in celebration giving thanks
\nto the universe for its abundance. The dresses fullness billows out
\nto its full extent, tourists stare in wonderment but you are
\noblivious to their existence.Laughing you enter the huge iron gate of
\nAll Soul’s College. An enormous ornate sundial dominates the North
\nwall of the quadrangle throwing its shadow across arcane numerals. I
\ntake a final, farewell look at you beautiful, barefoot student.
\nYou’re now walking over the cool flagstones of an ancient cloister
\nchatting animatedly to a female college acquaintance.<\/p>\n
Soon
\nthose summer feet are hidden from view by a low wall yet as always
\nyour body continues to undulate with the same lilting poetry. It’s
\nclear to all who have eyes to see that you are a true barefooter and
\nI wish you much luck in my heart. I asked a college porter if he knew
\nyour name and he said it was ASTRID.<\/p>\n
Jon
\nThe Barefoot Pilgrim barefootmystic@hotmail.com<\/p>\n
Posted by:
\nViews: 13464
\nTopic:3<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A BAREFOOT RHAPSODY by Jon The Barefoot Pilgrim Dedicated to all female barefooters who can identify with it. It’s a hot summer afternoon in Oxford, the temperature has reached 91 degrees which makes it the hottest day of the year so far. You emerge in the distance from the far side of Radcliffe Square cutting […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-411","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-guest-columns"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/411","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=411"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/411\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9435,"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/411\/revisions\/9435"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=411"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=411"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hipplanet.com\/hip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=411"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}