I’m often asked why I don’t like to wear shoes.

My usual reply is that when I am barefoot I feel more grounded.

Now when I say that people take it one of two ways; they either think it is a joke, or they think it has some really profound meaning.

Maybe I don’t like shoes because maybe I never learned my lesson when I would cut the bottoms of my feet on sharp rocks. Maybe I should have realized that shoes are a good idea when I burned my feet on hot pavement not once, but twice.

Maybe it’s because I like the feeling of cold mud in the spring and hot sand in the summer.

Or I just don’t like wearing any ******* shoes.

Maybe the it is way that stepping grass reminds me of home, and stepping in snow also reminds me of home because I grew up in Maine, where 2 ft of snow is just your average wednesday.

Or possibly it’s how I can tell which room of my house I am in by the way the floor feels.

Maybe it’s how when I climb tree’s barefoot I end up with scratches all over me, but being so high reminds me of how hard the climb is but how beautiful the view is once you get there.

Shoe may just be too mainstream for me...

Maybe I want to feel more connected to my ancestors who didn’t wear shoes.

It may be that wish to a tree, that I wish that my bare feet would become roots tying me to the one place where I belong.

It may be that I wish I was a dog because they don’t have to wear shoes.

I might not like feeling confined. Maybe it’s a symbol for how I wish to be free, when I don’t wear shoes it’s a call for help.

Maybe I am brave, putting my feet in danger. Or maybe I am just really frickin stupid, and I am starting to think it’s the latter. Especially when I end up breaking my toes, or cutting my feet, or burning them on the roads because I was too lazy or too dumb to put any shoes on.

Or maybe I am just cracking a joke about bare feet and the ground (and people over analyze the smallest things)...