My feet have done me proud all my life. They are little, tiny things – generally a size 5 1/2 or 6 – which makes sense since I am only 5′ tall. I always am amused by people who flip over how small my feet are because it would just be silly if they were any bigger. I would look like a clown.
My feet have danced my way through life so they are strong and know how to point prettily. What I like most about my feet is that they are symetrical… from big toe to little toe, each toe is just slightly shorter than the one proceeding it. They form a beautiful, graceful, curving slope downward without the usual second-toe-longer thing that most people have. I like that. And it made it so much more comfortable when it came time for me to go up en pointe when I was in ballet.
Over the last few years, my feet have begun to feel sad. As the pounds have accumulated around my small skeleton, my feet have taken the brunt of it. They are supporting double the weight they were made to support and they are showing the wear and tear. Some days, by the time I crash into bed, my feet seem to be screaming for relief. Thing is, the louder they scream, it seems I ignore them more. I mean, I am not losing any weight. It’s just staying there. I feel different about myself and people are seeing me differently, but the scales? They still holler out the truth with blaring rudeness.
In addition to the weight, the energy work I do really grounds through my feet. I became aware of the change in my feet when I began my internship as Reiki Master Teacher. My feet went through some wild changes during that time. And now, I am really aware of them while I am working. Sometimes they feel as hot as a volcano. Sometimes they feel heavy, like they are encased in cinderblock. While I am doing this work and channeling in a cycle heaven to earth, I realize that the energy is not accumulating there, but those little feet of mine are conduit for the heat of the Universe.
A few years ago, my mother gave me a pedicure as a gift. She loves pedicures. I appreciated the loving gesture and ventured in to the salon for the experience. Because my feet appear so abused – no matter how much lotion I slather on them – I am very conscious of how others view my feet. I have had people gasp in horror when they spy the gaping cracks and thick, calloused heels. It isn’t pretty and I felt embarrassed to have someone working on my feet.
The young lady was not very well trained. She razored my heels to rawness. She picked at my toenails until they bled (I have never had a problem with the toes, just the heels) and she buffed the sides of my feet to burning pinkness with a block of what seemed like coarse-grained sandpaper. For three weeks following the ordeal, I could barely walk and the pain for the first three days was so intense it brought tears to my eyes. I haven’t had a pedicure since.
While I was in massage school, Reflexology was a required course – actually the very first class of my very first semester. People were going to have to be touching my feet???! Ugh! I was mortified! The ten-week class, however, gave me a new appreciation of my feet. I began to love them again. They began to feel happy again. Then the class ended and I no longer had an “excuse” to pay attention to them.
My feet have continued to do what is expected of them. They walk me to and fro. They dance me. They run me if, god forbid (cuz I hate it!), I ever decide to run. They jump when I need them to. They hold me steady on the earth. And… I ignore them, for the most part.
My good friend, Jen Halterman offers an amazing service of Intuitive Coaching while the client is receiving an ionic foot bath. She and I discussed the option of doing professional trades. I had no idea what an ionic foot bath was and was concerned that it was a modality that, once again, would focus my attention on my feet, but it felt right (chivels and all) so I went for it.
I loved that I had the ability to see a physical response to the energetic and emotional processing she facilitated. Being that I am a Reiki Master Teacher, I am able to amp up the process and truly chose in for the hour I was with her. I experienced physical, shifting responses in my body. I felt pain rise and leave. I heard my stories of sadness disipating into the water that grew evermore murky until it looked like I was soaking in thick coffee. I appreciated the sensations that woke up in my adipose fat – my biggest storage area of protection. I appreciated the innate sense that the memories were dissolving and melting out of me.
Afterward, I felt lighter and my feet felt wide awake. I was so aware of my feet, sending them appreciations and love. Despite the weight they carry, my feet truly do their job well. I am grateful for that.