Follow your feet.

Follow them

Years ago I attended a spiritual workshop out in the green and brown hills of Montana. The snowy crests of the Continental Divide towered over us.  Our teacher gave an assignment: Out you go onto the ranch.  Instead of allowing your head to guide your walk, follow your feet.  Let the feet lead wherever they desire to travel.  Follow your feet.

Off we traveled, letting the toes and heels and arches guide us.  While thought may have suggested turning left to visit that cottonwood by the river, feet led us up into the hill country.  Thought so often attempted to keep us on the beaten path, but feet guided into a patch of the most fascinating scrub bushes.  Thought carried on about cleared trails, but feet led to the next appropriate moment.

Such gifts the feet shared!  A broken-off branch in the most fascinating shape.  A stone shaped like a heart.  The shadow of a Native American spirit dancing in the wind against a tree.

I walked away from that feet-guided afternoon inspiration with a renewed trust in intuition.  With a convincing knowing that something deeper than our thoughts might actually know which way to turn in the upcoming moment.  With a delight in the journey underlying the thinking churning mind.

Wise ones

Please don’t get me wrong.  I do so appreciate the mind, that amazing storyteller, that masked being sharing its opinions and feelings.  It babbles on so endlessly about this and that, stating its opinions and judgments so boldly, so fiercely, so often simply assuming that it’s right.

And how often do we simply blindly believe our thought-producing mind, adoring its seeming logic, its cunning assertions?

Nonetheless, I’m all for the feet.

Since that afternoon beneath blue Montana skies, I sometimes remember to simply drop beneath the level of thought and let the toes guide.  It’s especially fun to do this when walking in the woods.  (OK, some of us may require a compass, especially if we haven’t learned to trust feet.  And maybe feet need to learn to trust us, but that’s another matter.)

Even more fun is letting the feet drive you where they want to go.  (This takes an extra-special kind of trust.)

Mackinac Bridge

Yesterday, driving back home to Lake Superior land from Lake Huron shores, I gave the feet free rein.

“Take me home,” I requested nicely to the brown sandals.

They grinned and the toes gently pushed the accelerator.

Here’s what happens.  Let’s say three routes exist which lead home.  (Perhaps 2,014 routes exist, but let’s narrow it to three.)

You drive toward the first decision.  Will you turn onto US 2, or will the feet veer toward Highway 123?  You have no idea.  You relax deeply.  No last-minute corrections allowed. It’s all the feet.  Which way shall they go?

And, heavens above! the feet decide Highway 123.  OK, you’re headed to Newberry.  You think.  And, sure enough, an hour later you drive into town.  Many decisions clamor in the mind now.  Will you stop for gas?  Or will you continue to another town?  Will you celebrate with a cup of coffee?  Will you check your email?  What might happen?

Drive yourself

The only thing that is not allowed is a decision by the mind.  The feet must decide.  That’s the way it goes.  And, sure enough, the feet move to the left toward a BP station, and then hands purchase a coffee–and, oh my goodness, a fish sandwich–not even on the radar–and off we go again letting the feet guide.

My friend had mentioned about manifestation at lunch.  I went through a manifestation stage in the 90’s, but rarely think about it any more.  That’s when one decides what one wants and allows the Universe to arrange it.

I talked to the feet.

“Feet, can you find a motel for $40 a night?” I asked and then forgot about it, for the clue to manifestation somehow seems to be the willingness to let go.

Shoes rule

Seriously, how many $40 a night motels might there be?  Would the feet comply?  Or did they desire a $70 bed?  Or a $100 bed, heaven forbid?!!

Feet drove up to the first motel in Munising.  $79 plus tax.  Feet declined.  They accelerated on to the second motel.  $89 plus tax.  Again they declined.  I felt nervous. Would we get to sleep that night?

Were the feet deluded?

Feet drove another five miles and discovered a 1950’s style motel off the beaten track.  How exciting!  What might happen next?  Feet padded up to the door and rang the bell.  Do you have an available room and how much?

Thirty-nine dollars for a double and forty-one dollars for a queen!  Feet agreed to the second option–guess they didn’t care about the exact $40 and, sure enough, they’d manifested the appropriate room.

See what can happen when you follow your feet?  Have you ever let yours lead?  Was it scary or fun, or both?  I do recommend it.  Give it a try, won’t you?

Who knows…sometimes feet even want to fly!