Earth Shoes

Today I bought a pair of Earth Shoes. Now, before you start thinking I'm a "hippy-dippy flaky-shaky fun-in-the-sun braless wonder" (thank you, Dar Williams, for that wonderful phrase) I'll tell you that these are not crunchy Birkenstocks or some other swanky brand name. I found these at Wal-Mart. I'm a fairly low-budget type of person, except when it really counts or I just can't help myself (which is why I send to Canada for my soap and shampoo, thank you  Lush.

I did not expect to find an amazing pair of shoes at Wal-Mart; I didn't even expect to find shoes at all. I expected to find an apple corer, to be honest. And some diapers. But I saw the shoes and thought I'd just try them on.

I didn't want to take them off. They were so comfortable. Even if they were made of leather - which, for some people, immediately disqualifies them as "Earth Shoes" - I somehow felt as if I'd just had a double-shot of espresso, the experience just woke me up somehow.

The cashier and I talked about how great they were. I wanted to wear them out of the store; but, tags dangling, a bored security guard might think I'd stolen them, so I controlled myself until I reached the car. Off came the sneakers, on went the Earth Shoes, tags and all. I enjoyed them the whole ride home. I ran from the car to the house because it felt so good. I'm wearing them now. In fact, my feet are having such an experience that I don't feel like sitting here, so I think I'll get up and dance around some.

(pause while Snoopy-like dancing goes on)

Ah! Wow! Great! This is so wonderful! I have happy feet! Here are my happy feet:

Did you picture me dancing around in my shoes? You see my picture up there on the left, I bet you can do it. Perhaps you laugh, or are slightly embarrassed for me. Heck, I would be slightly embarrassed for me if I weren't so comfortable.

Small pleasures, huh? Well, you know who has small pleasures like this? My 3 year-old son. And his friends. Last week I bought him a pair of those sneakers that light up when you walk (also at Wal-Mart) and he ran around all bent over delighting in his magic shoes. He's the same way with other things: how many times can we play push-kiss? That's when I try to kiss him and he holds his hands out in front of him and pushes at my mouth, so I kiss his hands instead. He'll play that for ten minutes straight and I'm always the one to break it off. He's delighted by his shadow, and laughs like crazy to see it jump around when he does.

You know what? My son is a very happy individual, all told. Sure, he gets frustrated and angry when things don't go his way or when he's tired, just like the rest of us. On the whole, though, he seems to have many more happy moments than I do. He exults in the every day; he revels in the moments that pass us by like dust - nearly invisible, ignored, too small and insignificant to take note of. I have other things to see, and do, and worry about.

I want to learn how to be like he is. In the days after he was born, I learned how to yawn - I'd been doing it wrong for years! Stifled, repressed…my son's yawns were a whole-body experience. He feels everything so fully, no wonder children need naps! Is it possible? Can I do that? Become that? Become that…again?

I don't know. You tell me.

© Leigh Deacon 2002