Barefoot in Copenhagen

I hate shoes. Those of you who know me well know that I jump at the chance to walk around barefoot. In class, at home, wherever, chances are that you will be able to find me without my shoes on, or, a pair that can be easily slipped off.

I'm not sure why I'm such a fan of having toe-freedom. Maybe it's that socks make me a bit claustrophobic. Or that double-knots will be the end of me.

Or maybe it's because when I'm barefoot, I'm connected. When I walk around the apartment, or outside (at home, not in Copenhagen...not yet, at least), and I feel the earth beneath me, there is a flooding sense of connection. I know where I am then.

Sometimes it's scarey to walk barefoot. You don't know if you are going to step on glass or a pinecone or in dog poop. But you just sort of do it, because it feels good.

Too often, we wear shoes to protect us from the possibility of hurt all the while keeping out feet from experiencing any real connection.

I think I'm finally beginning to take of my "shoes" here. While I was on the study tour, I was having so much fun. But as our return to Copenhagen approached, I remember thinking that it would be good to get back. After a month of living here, Copenhagen is becoming home. I know how to get around, how to interact, where to find cheap food.

I have people that I call when I want to hang out, and, more importantly, call me when they want to hang out.

It's official that this is no longer just a trip, but a journey. Trips are when we see pretty things, take pictures and move on to the next sight. Journeys find connections with people and place. Journeys challenge you to search your deepest being, and help you find your way home--even if home is redefined.

I think one of the hardest things about a journey is the fact that so much of it is directly you on your own, yet you still rely on those you've known.

In an earlier post, I wrote this:

You see, if home is where you heart is, then you can never really be homeless. You live in the hearts of places you grew up in, the people that opened their arms, and the experiences that
changed your life. You might travel all over the world, but when it comes down to it, your home is where your heart is--leave it in Copenhagen, leave it in Fairburn, leave bits of it at Elon and
Woodward and Atlanta. You have a home in all those places. Leave parts with teachers and counselors, parents, and guides--there you'll find home too.

Home isn't a singular place, one expression of a place lived. It is that in addition to the lives surrounding it and the life crafted by it.

Home is where you can be barefoot.

I think I'll take off my shoes now.

blessings.
jon.