Our spiritual shoes

Every time I see you, every time you hide into my sense and I hear your name, love arises into flames like it hasn’t happened before, like I haven’t met you before: new shoes. Whenever you can come towards me everything starts from the beginning. It doesn’t really matter what you look like: you can be comfy trainers or glittering platforms. It doesn’t matter how expensive you are, because not your price makes your value. I don’t care where I will find you, even if you are a pearl of a mall or a second-hand shop’s queen, because all your secret is that you are new. A prey. I have to get you.

Why do I need you so much?

The question of why shoes define me hasn’t come up for so long. I didn’t want to put any philosophy into my shoeshopping because it was a pleasure in itself, it didn’t need any explanation. You simply notice them, and the feeling burns you down that without them you probably can’t live futher. You can’t wear anything because that certain item is out of your stock and you want it. Anyway. That is the opportunity and it will never come back, so you must get them and that’s all. And a flash sale, aawwhh, need them. And if it is not, it doesn’t matter. It is a must for you, because a voice is howling from deep inside. See, these shoes are so beautiful, and there is the case when they are so ugly that they are beautiful. You know it. Those patterns, look at that colour! You will solve everything in my soul, just come home with me. Don’t bother if I will never wear you or even love, but you will stand in the queue because you have a special teaching for me.

Psychotherapist shoes

I haven’t bought shoes from passionate love for some years, only when needed. That is a totally different world with viewpoints and with conditional love. Very similar to a longlasting relationship, because passion is not enough, you have to be a bit more adult with more special requirements. We are planning for a long term together. Last week I had to go to a shop and buy a bad romance. I was ashamed on my way home. I didn’t need it, I didn’t have money for it, but it gave me a slap to wake up and see that there is something wrong inside. Something made me satisfy a bitter sweet urge filled with deep repentance and I totally lost control over sanity. That dark blue platform was stronger than me. It came along with me because it brought a message about the fact that I had tried to push something deep in myself. I was not good at troubleshooting the plugging as at preventing the problem. So I had to sit down in front of the blue beauty and ask it what it wanted. How could it get me to bring it home when I didn’t need it at all. More precisely the object of my need wasn’t it, but in the absence of myself I had to negotiate with it. It said I had lost. That was the truth, but I was afraid of admitting it. I got into a certain kind of situation what was absolutely unknown for me and I was scared I wouldn’t be able to meet the requirements. My requirements. A burning love was awakened by the shoes.

The main reason why I need you

Life gives us profuse ideas about why we need to get a new pair of shoes. Partners, lovers, preys, reflections of the misery of our souls. During the chemotherapy I didn’t want anybody around me except my family. I didn’t want anybody to see, see through or even slightly suspect what it was about. No one could get the chance to be a part of my suffering. I only needed time to get to know myself and find the most suitable resolution. From the very first moment I knew that it would be a painfully lonely journey. I was prepared not take anyone, no one could accompany me. I went to a long and insanely difficult terrain, but I bought a pair of professional hiking boots, definitely. That period from the beginning of our strange love with Mr. Hodgkin to our breakup brought seventy pairs of shoes into my life. I wanted all of them because they made me a woman. I didn’t dare to look in the mirror, I wasn’t beloved, I couldn’t make myself attractive, so I could give so many roles to my shoes. I needed them so much. Every single shoe was meant for patching my torn soul.

There is no obstacle

My never-existing doctor was born to a highly empathic woman, so she called me to control only three days after the chemotherapy. Simply because she had never been there when I got that shit into my veins. It doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing special, I only had cancer. She wanted to see me therefore I went to the hospital. I could bear the bus ride. Like a well-qualified beagle I felt that disgusting smell in the air at the gate of the hospital. I hadn’t beleived the legend of being able to smell clearly those chemicals from a hundred metre, but that was the truth. So I swallowed and went in. After two sentences she let me go. With rage, anger and with a desperate feeling of fainting I needed to find a shop. That certain shop which was close to the hospital, so I had to walk only a few hundred metres. I was chanting that I was ok, everything was all right. It wasn’t. I entered the shop and meet with a new pair of shoes. I hadn’t had that kind before, you know, I wanted. Awakening from the first sparkles of love I saw that the world started to blur around me. I paid and run out to the fresh air. Not far from the door I found a hiding playground between some huge blocks of flats where I planned to sit down for a while. I failed. A nice little sandbox from the era of socialism was the witness of my vomitting into a dustbin. My tears were falling. Some workers were preparing for their breakfast just a few metres away on a bench. I didn’t even try to smile. After wiping my mouth I bought another pair of boots in another shop. Holding those boots I travelled home and hoped I wouldn’t vomit the whole bus.

Goodbye, glass slipper!

After finishing our extreme romance with Mr. Hodgkin I started to live the real life and I slowly realized that the outlines of my existence were no longer drawn by shoes. I love them nowadays too, but everything went into its appropriate place in my soul and there is no stirring urge to buy a new one. A certain part of my shoes were never on my feet. Some years ago I could give them away from a pure heart. I know they just wanted to help me when I held high, but I just went deeper. I know they just wanted to fill the gaps in my soul I might not have admitted to myself. Finally they couldn’t fill just brought some light into my darkness. Only we can cope with our own demons whatever we wear on our feet.

photo from pixabay.com

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