When Angels Sing

When I walk barefoot through puddles it’s to remind myself that my life can be simple. Well, perhaps more simple than it is. I’m reminded that I can feel fulfilled by this one act of sheer delight. And it is a delight, absolutely.

Sometimes I can go weeks without walking barefoot and I pay for it dearly when I do. Over time the soles of my feet can become soft and life’s textured surfaces can prove more than a match for such baby softness.

I love the changing sensations that come from under foot, like the squeakiness of golden white sand, or the luxurious feel of a rich dark chocolaty mud between the toes, or the massaging effect of water on my weary feet.

The thing is to choose them. To choose to run barefoot across golden sands, to choose to wallow in luscious dark mud, to choose to let the water caress the soles of our tired feet … the choice is and will always be, ours and ours alone.

But we get busy, don’t we, and later we use busyness as our excuse for everything we never properly achieved. I was busy with … I was busy doing … I was busy … we have so many excuses for all manner of things. Will we ever learn? More to the point, when?

I liked the lightness of the rain today, it was like being kissed by icing sugar, so light and sweet. I liked the delicate dusting that settled on my face. They tell me angels sing and maybe this is the reason why.