Barefoot: A Return to Knowing
Day 5 - The Healing
She woke with the light already in the room. It was soft, golden and still. The presence wrapped around her. She breathed it in deep and gave it gratitude. It took her a moment to remember. The coyote. The snake. The ants. The stinging, the tears, the way she had fallen to her knees and asked the sky if she was meant to give up.
She sat up slowly, expecting to feel the soreness. But there was nothing aching. No tenderness in her legs and arms. Her knees, that had been scraped and bloodied, were smooth. Whole.
She touched her skin with awe and caution. Looked at her arms, her feet, her reflection in the mirror. No bite marks, those little white bumps that follow the red ant stings. No bruises at all. She was healed. Not eased, not improved. Healed.
At first the old voice came up, the one that always wants to assign meaning too quickly.
Maybe I’ve already remembered. Maybe this is what it was all for. Maybe I don’t need to walk the rest of the seven days. I’ve done the hard part. Haven’t I proved myself?
She caught herself. That voice was not hers. It was the voice of fear all dressed up in convenience. She stood at the edge of the window, looking out over the pasture. She felt the pull. The urge to walk. The desire to feel the cool soft soil under her feet, the blades of grass between her toes. To embrace the kiss of ladybugs, dragonflies and moths.
The earth had given her medicine. It had given her pain, yes, but also the cure. It had called her, tested her, and then, cradled her. And still it was asking for more. As a promise. A true promise of the oneness that creates her ability to fly.
She slipped on her softest clothes, brushed her hair back and once again, stepped out onto her land, barefoot.
This time, there was no dread in her body. No resistance to what would be. Only wonder.
The wind met her gently, lifting the edge of her sleeve. Letting her know it walked with her, not against her. She pressed her feet into the dirt and inhaled deeply. She smiled with joy as she raised her face to the sun.
She spoke aloud, inviting spirit in. “What would you like me to know today?” her voice was steady, expectant. “Show me.”
Just as the words escaped her lips, a small red ladybug landed softly on her wrist. It paused for a couple of breaths then moved, kissing her skin with its tiny feet. She laughed with delight. It was such a simple gesture, nothing grand, just a mystical kiss from Gaia herself. A blessing.
She thanked the little creature then it lifted, spiraling off into the distance.
She moved on, stepping off the path and walked a good stretch into the shade of a large oak. She had passed this oak tree more times that she could count but never took the time to come close.
As soon as she placed her hand on its enormous trunk, the branches began to sway. No just from the wind, but from presence. Its branches leaned toward her, slow and deliberate. One curved low, brushing lightly against her cheek, like a mother cupping her child’s face.
She closed her eyes. As the branches caressed her skin, wrapped around her back, she knew this wasn’t her imagination, This was a real embrace and she let herself be held.
There is such a love her, she thought. Such a great, unspeakable love pulsing through every leaf and limb. One that rises up from the earth to us. And we miss it. We miss it because we don’t take time to notice. To connect. To belong.
“I love you, too.” She told the tree, then stretched her arms around its trunk as far as they could go. “Thank you for loving me.”
She returned to the path and continued walking, heart soft, hands open. Not looking for magic now, just walking with it. Knowing that it had been her all along, with her, flowing all around her, within her, through her.
Then, around the bend, she saw it. A large winterberry bush, full, wild and blooming in all its glory. And surrounding it, humming through it were hundreds upon hundreds of honeybees. They were flying in and out of the branches, collecting nectar and pollen, dancing form flower to flower.
She approached slowly. The bees didn’t scatter. She stepped closer, closer, until she was inside the bush, wrapped in the sweet, soft, warm fragrance of its blossoms. She places her nose to one of the flower clusters and inhaled.
The honeybees landed on her shoulder, her hands, her collarbone. Normally, she would flinch and swat them away. But she didn’t. She just stood in the pulse of it all. Her skin tickled by wings, her breath caught in wonder.
It was a moment beyond language. A moment beyond belief. It was a moment she stopped being a visitor to the earth and became a part of it, again. In this stillness, she understood that this, too was a way to fly. Not the kind of flight that lifts you from the ground, but the kind that dissolves the line between body and world, self and spirit.
Thank you for reading this flash fiction series where our lead is asked to walk barefoot across the land for 7 days. AND come back next Friday for Day Six – The Offering
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