Thursday, April 7, 2011

feet are the salvation for the brain . . .

. . . and that's why philosophers always keep on walking (Mi and L'au). So it is true. There is some sane-making effect that moving our feet has on our brains. I like to think that's what helped us to bipedal our way into the position we currently enjoy - the social animal that . . . has a lot going for it? 

Sometimes we shoulder heavy minds - each of us a tiny Atlas. Philosophers, and poets, and the like have kept tabs on us - Homo sapiens - through our eras and errors. I wonder what this new world will look like once the protests . . . die back? What will we say about ourselves in the future? What will we say about this time? It was remarkable, it should have been predicted? And where are we going? In our globalized reality it is hard to keep track of all the things that bind you to me, and me to those, and them to us. But we are each so much alike. We perceive more distance between ourselves than, well,  have we measured? Not in a long while. And were we right the first time we judged the distance? 

There is strength in each of us - and the tools we use today show us that human beings are creative and capable - as ever. Revolutions by Facebook, and when the despot shuts the Internet down, well then - revolution by word of mouth! We can see suffering and cruelties, but the reality that the heart stays so hopeful and strong despite imprisonment, torture, genocide - is stunning. I read the stories of Libyans, Egyptians - individual stories of sacrifice, determination, horrific lives - and I come out the other end optimistic. If they survive, so can I, so can you. We don't need to look far to find the courageous ones. 

I walk and realize that it's the pace I find comforting. It feels like what the body wants to do. This month is th is National Poetry Month and here's a poem for the day from   

The Broken Sandal

Dreamed the thong of my sandal broke.
Nothing to hold it to my foot.
How shall I walk?
The sharp stones, the dirt. I would
Where was I going?
Where was I going I can't
go to now, unless hurting?
Where am I standing, if I'm
to stand still now?

Cassidy Arch, Capitol Reef, Utah march 2011

These lines urge me on, somewhere - but how to figure? How to know where? We are ever in motion, this is certain. And sandals are always breaking.     

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