Today, I bought a pair of sandals for the summer, and I hope it is not tot late to give you a few hints what to get – so that your feet are happy.
As a child, I learned to walk late (at age three), and nobody could figure out what the problem was (years later, I found out that I had gluten intolerance). Then I had to wear orthopedic boots until I was eight. So, for me it is true: If my feet are happy, I am happy.
Yes, I did wear stiletto pumps when I was young – and succumbed to a few other youthful follies. But now I am wearing COMFORTABLE shoes. There is a new kind that has very low heels – deeper actually than the forefoot. They supposedly are good for the alignment of your spine.
The truth is, however, not every foot needs the same boot. And not the same sandal. Choose one that fits well and is comfortable. Choose a breathing, flexible material. Of course, I am partial to European brands. They actually invented the “Gesundheits” shoe, aside from Jesus who wore comfortable sandals, too, as we know.
Sebastian Kneipp (1821-1897) walked barefoot until he was twenty-one, and had a hard time to adjust to shoes, period. That why he invented a very wide show from soft leather, with a strap across the instep – a kind of Mary Jane.
What else to do for happy feet:
• Walk often
• Walk barefoot often, walking at the beach, walking on pebbles.
• Use tea tree oil or garlic against foot fungus (athlete’s foot).
• Treat feet with olive oil and/or coconut oil daily for smooth skin.
Tread lightly on our beautiful Earth! Read More
Blog: On Health. On Writing. On Life. On Everything.
Mud Season in Maine
April 12, 2011
Wish I were a poet – to describe the beauty of Maine in early spring. They call this time “mud season” – with the implication that one better flee to warmer shores and leave Maine behind.
Usually, we don’t visit our cabin at this time of the year – nobody ever encouraged us. This year, I had to go up because a friend had died, and I wanted to go to her funeral.
The occasion was a sad one – yet how lovely it was! Yes, there was drizzle and fog, and the ruts of our dirt road seemed to say: Stay away! Stay away! But I didn’t stay away, and the ruts and potholes became a challenge of sorts – and at the end of the dirt road, there is the cabin and the ocean.
It was very, very early spring. Just a few crocuses were up. I looked at them and remembered that I planted them about twenty years ago. Contrary to what garden books say, they didn’t naturalize – they were just as spare as single bulbs stuck in the soil. Life is hard that far north. But those few crocuses – blue and white and yellow – cheered up the day. Daffodils were sending up green blades; no flowers yet.
I should know better but I planted again: a late pink anemone, and some liatris – planted them in the drizzle. They might come up in summer, or they might not. Important is the hope I planted (and the exercise!).
Outside, bare spring beckoned; inside, in the evenings, I had some logs blazing, making it cozy and warm. I played cello. It was a bit much to carry the cello with me for just three days, but I was glad I did. I did some Chinese brush painting. I wanted to write, but I am still reading Anna Karenina – it will keep me biting my nails for a while. Why would I even bite my nails? We all know it will end badly …
Of course, I attended the funeral, and it was heart-wrenching. But it also was good – to see the family and friends gathered to honor one good woman. She is now lying in a tiny cemetery, overlooking Tauton Bay.
This morning, when I got up to clean the house and leave for Boston, the sun was out and the sky showed Mediterranean blue. A strong wind had swept away rain and fog, and the world was as clear and beautiful as it can only be in Maine. Read More
Your Yoga Foot Print
April 9, 2011
More than half of my years I have spent learning yoga – and I still feel a beginner. No way that I ever become a master in that ancient Indian tradition. The main thing I learned from yoga is learning itself: To have an open mind.
The moment you enroll in a yoga class, you have already conceded that your body can influence your mind – and any great learning can happen from there. When I see somebody (yes, usually, it is a woman – but there are exceptions) who is lithe and nimble and radiates an inner joyfulness, she invariably admits to a longstanding yoga practice.
But today I don’t want to talk about the mind-body connection. I want to talk about the body-earth connection.
Indeed, one could describe yoga also as a series of sitting, standing, lying positions that try to come to grips with gravity. Because you don’t want to struggle against your weight pulling you to the ground. Instead you want to work with your weight, with the ground, and come to a happy compromise.
One thing you notice over the years you are doing yoga: Your feet become bigger and wider. They also become more beautiful. These big feet really STAND on the ground, planted for good. Your toes are wider apart, standing out and wiggling as individual toes as opposed of a crowded forefoot-thingy with five toenails. Each toe counts when you solidly stand on your yoga feet – you don’t wobble. There is no hesitation – there is only the bliss of being grounded – and feeling light, very light as a result.
That is the yoga paradox: As you stand firmer on our Earth, you become lighter.
Somewhere in your lumbar spine, there is a pivotal point: When you plant your feet, the lower part of your body goes down into the ground, following gravity’s call. But from that same pivot in your spine, the rest of your body floats up toward heaven, relieved of the dire heaviness of existence. Read More