THE SOUL OF THE FOOT

My preferred method of walking is barefoot. For much of my early life I travelled that way whenever I could. In the early 80s I found my first syringe near my home in East Fremantle and decided it was time to put on some shoes, at least in the city. Aids was rife and as I was already busy adjusting my social behaviour to accommodate the new threat the last thing I needed was to step on a contaminated needle. It was the beginning of the end of my feral innocence - until recently.

Injuring my foot last year prompted me to think more deeply about feet in general. During my recovery I could not stand wearing shoes. I had to wear thongs everywhere, I can't say I like them, but they are the closest thing to bare feet I can get away with. Over one year later I am still not able to wear shoes. I have also realised that I just don't like them. My real recovery began when I started walking barefoot again. My feet needed, demanded, to stand firm, adjust and align bones and sinews in response to the ground. I rediscovered the joy of connecting with the soul of the earth through the sole of my feet - such a fundamentally simple act, but so significant.

As a result of my new commitment to let my feet be themselves I went looking for flat sandals without arch supports or sculpted insoles. I couldn't find any. There is a conspiracy that says we now need to support our feet with synthetic materials. How can that be when arches are designed to withstand walking and running? If you leave them to it feet know what is best. The structure of feet needs to be maintained, if we support them they will get lazy. I said as much to the assistant in the shoe shop and she was aghast that I had uncovered the conspiracy. This theory can be tested quite easily - just look at the feet of teenage boys at the beach, you know, the ones who wear those overbuilt sports shoes, with air-cushioned soles and arch supports. You will see many who's arches have collapsed so that they now walk on the insides of their feet.

I have 'taught' my partner to walk barefoot. He grew up in Singapore and the prevalence of hookworm meant going without shoes was not an option. He went to a private school in Australia where he was not allowed to go barefoot. Comparing his to my own splayed toes I used to tease him about his uptight 'pommy' feet (even though he is Scottish). To his credit and in his 50s he took up the challenge. With a bit of coaching from me ie you have to relax around the little stones and irregularities, he now walks the dogs with me, in bare feet. He is very proud that his toes have started to splay like mine.

Feet are the first point of contact with the earth. You walk differently without shoes. You can't stride and slam your heel down hard, it hurts. So you take smaller steps, walk slower, feel every small nuance of surface texture, change of temperature - in the process you notice what is going on around you. One of my Noongar friends said that she always walks slowly and that her non-Aboriginal friends tease her about it. Since then I have watched other Aboriginal people to see if they also walk slowly, and I think they do. I think I may have only started walking more quickly myself when I began wearing shoes, though as a child I could run very fast without them. It makes sense that Aboriginal people walk slowly because they see no need to hurry. Why are we all in such a damn hurry anyway? I say to my partner: where are they all going in such a hurry, to die? That's the end game after all.

Many years ago I attended a Druid retreat. I was a member of O.B.O.D., a Druid order based in England. The arch Druid came to Australia for the retreat, a likeable man who looked nothing like a Druid and reminded me more of Leo Sayer. One of the exercises we undertook was to walk the land of the bush block alone, to feel it and listen to what it was saying. I chose to do this barefoot, even though the rough gravel made it a bit more challenging. We didn't discuss this, we dispersed alone and when we returned to the group, every single person had heard the same words: we are walking on the bones of the ancestors.

Maybe the phrase was sent to us telepathically, or maybe this was just the spirit of an ancient land speaking to wadjelas who were used to listening. Thousands and thousands of years of people, living, walking the land, weaving their soul energy into the songlines, dying and being reborn. Walking barefoot, or in the case of cold climates, with soft-soled shoes, is a primal thing, it connects us to the earth. We have lost the will and the skill and like so many other aspects of our lives, we are the poorer for it.