Where Are Your Feet?

I’m serious. Where are your feet?

I can’t take credit for this phrase (some may think that’s a good thing!). I originally heard it some days ago while listening to a presentation by Cynthia Bourgeault, an Episcopal priest, teacher, author and modern mystic who teaches on contemplative prayer and wisdom. The phrase is not new or unique; a Google search reveals some 500,000 entries, with diverse connotations, mostly philosophical and modern references to leadership, being present, being confident, as well as various book titles. I’d never heard the phrase before, but now that I have, I can’t get it out of my mind. Ever since, while folding laundry, making the bed, cooking dinner, … the phrase continues to pop up unbidden, “Where are my feet?”

For many of us, it’s easy to fall prey to overthinking things when dealing with life. Access to information is just too easy, and it matters not what the question or problem is. Figuring out what to cook for dinner? Google is my friend! Trying to solve a problem with sewing a difficult quilt pattern? You-Tube nails it every time. Trying to make sense of strange physical symptoms? WedMD surely will tell you what’s up.. Information to feed our minds is instantaneous and endless. Which is all well and good, but how do we figure out how to pay attention to the more visceral issues in our lives? To those things that bring worry and anxiety, …that wide-awake, gut-fear at 3 am? To those things that remind us of our mortality, or our woundings, or our sorrows? I don’t think an internet search will help much in that regard; if that were so, our world would be a much calmer, happier place.

I’ve tried to figure this out for a long time, of how to tap into that heart-space within that will provide me with the grace and wisdom to deal with all those things that go bump in the night; with the wild things in our inner souls that will not be tamed; with ways that will keep me grounded and centered and present to all the good that is in the “now”. And even with all the reading and researching I’ve done (ironic, I know…) the answer has remained elusive.

But when I started simply asking “Where are my feet?”, things started to shift. Subtly at first, but shift they have.

I’ve come to discover that as soon as I ask “where are my feet?”, my racing mind settles. The phrase redirects me, almost immediately, to place. I look down at my feet (seriously), and find that I am suddenly focused on the now. My feet, anchored on green grass or in the soft sand, or on the cool hardwood floor show me that no matter where my brain is going, my feet are firmly planted. No matter what my heart is struggling with, I am in place. I become present. I’m ok. My worries and anxieties seem to melt away. They are unable to withstand the sureness of my feet, planted on solid ground.

When I first started this simple practice of returning to place, of thinking “where are my feet?”, I had a sudden, clear and vivid memory of sailing on a catamaran several months ago when my husband and I were vacationing in Kauai. The double catamaran had set sail early in the morning, even before sunrise. The trip up the Nepali Coast and over to the island of Ni’ihau had been leisurely and carefree, with frequent stops to see monk seals, sea turtles, dolphins, and caves, and to do some snorkeling. Not only was it beautiful and relaxing, but that extra time gave us all a chance to get our “sea legs” beneath us and enjoy the trip.

But after lunch? The captain opened up the engines to full throttle on the return trip, the sails filled with the stiff Pacific winds, and we literally flew across the water! It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. The day was picture perfect, the cloudless blue heaven a perfect backdrop for flying across that vast ocean expanse. The deep-dipping of the craft as we danced up and out of the waves filled me with such joy, I was giddy with the thrill of it. But one of the strongest memories of that trip is standing on the deck, my hands gripping a rail along the side of the cabin, with my bare feet balancing on the cool wet decking. My knees bending into the waves, my head facing the wind, my eyes taking in the horizon: I became a part of the boat, one with the waves. My legs and feet were as one with the craft, its vibrations sounding deep in my soul. I felt as if I were dancing over the water, much like the dolphins who were swimming alongside the boat. Nothing else was real; nothing else mattered but me, the waves, the sun, the boat. I was fully present to the moment, at one with the natural beauty around me. It was a holy moment, a sacred space - and fully so because I was fully present.

There is something earthy and grounding about planting our feet on the earth, on a rock, in the ocean, or the sand, but also deeply sacred. Bare feet standing in place, connecting us with all that came before, and allowing us to feel, through a deep unseen connection, a unity with the Eternal, the Divine One who continues to abide within His Universe, and upon this earth. It is a sacred connection, this deep knowing that when I look at my feet, I know where I am. And when I take a moment to pause, to listen, I am once again present - to the earth, to the heavens and oceans, to myself, and most of all, to Him - the Eternal One. Being in place, present. That is how to begin to tame the wild things.

Just remember to ask, “Where are my feet?” And your heart will follow.