While I went up to the top of the O’Hill trails behind the Kellogg dormitory, I welcomed the fresh spring breeze that blows through my thin sweatshirt, a welcome change compared to the 30-degree icy bite that we faced a few weeks ago. I ran the light of the discolving sun, trying to arrive on the other side of the hill before the sun fell behind the mountains. I removed my headphones and took a break when I reached the start of the path. Then I removed my shoes.
This afternoon, I decided to escape the crushing of the middle of the semester of my list of tasks and the cloud of illness which seemed to have settled on all my first year class. I would not say that the workload of the university struck me like a brick, but perhaps more like the thick pile of readings that I suddenly had to do for my biology class every night. It was certainly an adjustment, and it is even without even mentioning the nights on the weekend spent between the frates and the bars until 2 am in the morning
I realized that this new university lifestyle is still moving, there is always something to finish and then something else to start immediately. And unlike the house, I did not yet have the same layers of memories and routines on land that helped me keep balanced.
In short, how I was approaching this new life was not durable. I knew that I had to find a way to put myself in the ground in this new house and a new lifestyle, to slow myself and reconnect to the things of life that do not fall to my agenda, but which are important.
Fortunately for me, I made a commitment specifically designed to teach students practices to access their conscience and improve their well-being, called “to conscience: how we know who we are”. One of the techniques we have learned in this class is forestry, a practice native to Japan.
The practice emphasizes silence and being really present in the natural world around you. By focusing very closely at what you feel through your senses, the goal of the forest bath is to immerse yourself completely in the atmosphere of the forest instead of simply walking on distracted nature.
I have always loved hiking and walks in nature as a kind of meditative practices that allow me to get out of my daily life and enjoy the moment. During my last year, I often took a break in the chaos of college requests by leading to a nearby path around a pond, just to spend an hour or two in the woods. However, I always listened to music or would bring another person to keep myself company, and I certainly never removed my shoes.
One of the modules of my commitment was entitled “Nature” and its objective was to practice access to a deeper conscience and mindfulness state through the options of three different practices, provided by our teacher, throughout the week. One of them was bare feet. So, after learning the concept, I decided to embark on a forest walk on barefoot on the O’Hill trails behind my dormitory. I wanted to try a new experience, where I could develop a more in -depth conscience of my conscience, and I was convinced that the forest bath would be completely suitable for the bill.
It was the end of winter when I decided to try it for the first time. Music, shoes, I started walking, paying attention to avoid snow on the ground. As there was suddenly nothing between my skin and the forest floor, I really felt that my senses and my thoughts become clearer, easier to understand for me.
Physically, it is incredible to see how bare feet can be improve Proprioception – Consciousness of the body. Feeling the ground under my feet has changed my way of living my own body, especially while walking. Part of this, of course, is the additional consciousness necessary when choosing my feet without any shoes to protect them. The other part is the fact that I can really feel my connection to the ground. Barefoot walking – rightly, also known as the earth or earthing – is a very unique sensory experience which has undoubtedly changed my way of consciousness of my body.
Mentally, barefoot walking can improve sleep and reduce stress. I noticed in recent months that I have practiced this that my stress and anxiety levels have clearly dropped, and my mental balance is much healthier than six months ago. But what is most important to me, personally, is the increased consciousness that I acquired by being immersed in the present, because I am able to calm my stress and, therefore, to protect my inner peace.
When I returned to the field for the spring semester, I had the state of mind that I needed to work to establish my life here as a university student and find ways to manage the new sources of stress that accompanied it. Although walking with my feet is not the way I expected to do this, it seems to work. I started to feel much more comfortable calling my house.
From my first company without laundry on the O’Hill trails, I tried to go at least once a week, or simply whenever I need a way to slow things down. I go most often just before sunset and stay for about an hour, just listening to the birds and the wind and melting myself through dirt, rocks and leaves. I am surprised that I never get tired of it – it’s the same path, the same trees, the same silence – but the experience is always different.
I found the way to center myself in the present – and I walk slowly, quietly, observe and, unexpectedly, without shoes.