How to get your wooden shoes wet

Today I walked with the dog a lot. In the morning just a small walk of half an hour. Gave Binkie the chance to relieve himself. Then before noon we walked to Havelte and back. A little D-tour for the fun of it. I did some shopping In Havelte and Binkie is learning to follow me closely when he’s on the leash. All in all some ten kilometers it was and we had a lot of fun.

Then just after dinner Binkie and I went for another walk. Nature and Binkie conspired together to seduce me to a much larger round than I originally had in mind. We just roamed the fields and woods and I came in places I have not been before. It was not really all that much of a walk. Some six kilometers. What was grand about it, was the walk itself.

Somewhere in the walk I realized that there were no footprints in the dry sand. Nowhere. I was sure I had walked there the day before. And because it is a holiday in the Netherlands, many people walked there the last 24 hours. No footprints. There were not even all that many other tracks either. Not from horses or bikes or cars or even tanks ?.
No traces of anything. The wind had blown the heavier and the lighter sand into any tracks there might have been previously. Looking around me I realized that time only existed on clocks. Not where I was, not in the moment I was. All along the walk there had just been me, Binkie, nature and the interaction between us through walking. Time had nothing to do with this.

And I smiled as I moved on. The area is so dry after weeks without sufficient rain and now days with strong and dry winds. Walking on wooden shoes it was more slip sliding and skiing than actually walking some times as they slide easily over the dry leaves, pine needles and wood on the path.


After some five kilometers, I didn’t really know where I was anymore. I knew where I was heading, but I had no idea where I was. As I turned a corner there was a field of Common Cottongrass. I was startled and fascinated at the same time. Carefully I advanced. Having a dog with me which knew where to step, and a long hiking pole, I kept moving through the field with all these white little fluffs flapping in the strong wind around me. I was very focused on what the dog did, on whether my pole found something more solid then water and especially on what happened right underneath my feet as I moved them carefully one after the other. The surface was friendly enough to support my feet and every step I made the path just picked me up. So I also had time to look at these odd plants I had never seen before.
As I safely reached the other end of the peat bog and turned around, again there was not a trace I left. The wet and spongy peat had just carried me and as I lifted each foot step after step, retook its shape as if nothing had touched it.

The only thing that could prove something odd had just happened, were my wet wooden shoes in the otherwise arid surroundings. And again time proved non-existent during the whole of the experience. Time had nothing to do with it. Time has nothing to do with me.


About Jikai

Living a life of blessed less where my feet support my walk and my hands create my story. View all posts by Jikai

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