The Holy Dust on My Hiking Shoes
Robin B. Zeiger, Ph.D.
I have been troubled lately by the holy dust of my trusty hiking shoes.
I longed to wear my shoes to work. I attempt to arrive at my clinic looking “professional,” and thus I contemplated washing the dirt away. Something very strange happened. Suddenly, I was sad at the thought of the missing dust. The “dust” became holy in my eyes. I realized I could not allow water and a rag to remove the dust of my shoes and perhaps, of my soul.
It took a lot of introspection to begin to “touch” the surface of my shoes. I wondered if my reticence and sadness are perhaps connected to nostalgia for what was; a place it seems impossible to return to again.
In early September of this year, my husband, Jonathan, and I attempted to capture the final moments of the summer via a last-minute vacation. I am many moons away from the dog-days of my childhood summers in Chicago. I am no longer a student returning to school. And the colorful, crunchy leaves of a Chicago Autumn are only memories.
The brief and precious moments of the meaningful liminal space in of late August and mid-September remain forever etched in my heart. The rituals of saying good-bye to the freedom of summer and the arrival of a new academic year brought hope and meaning to the season.
Jonathan and I chose to create our end of the summer ritual surrounded by the magnificent mountain range of the Dolomites in Italy. We stayed in a quaint cabin at the foot of the mountains.
We hiked and communed with nature. Among my highlights were horseback riding and joining an intimate yoga group in the forest.
I even convinced my somewhat skeptical husband who has never done yoga to participate. When he too took off his socks, I knew it would be okay. He confessed however, that his favorite part of yoga experience was the hike in the forest to find the sacred space.
We happened upon a beautiful outdoor art exhibit created to blend in with and enhance nature.
With my mind’s eyes I still find myself traveling to this magnificent artistic creation of two hands “framing” the beautiful mountains.
Perhaps it reminds the passer-by to stop and take note of the holiness and handiwork of the Creator
I came back rejuvenated and inspired and ready to meet the new academic year. All this would have remained with me as a wonderful inspirational and nostalgic experience.
AND THEN OCTOBER 7TH HAPPENED TO MY COUNTRY.
I could spend hours reading news and trying to understand and debate the political and moral complexity of it all. However, what remains so deeply in my sold is deep sadness and confusion about the human condition.
Somehow, I was born an eternal optimist who has always stubbornly insisted that the cup is half filled. Yet, there is something so all-encompassing about this war and continuing war and terror in this world that threatens to spill over the liquid in the cup. Again and again, I ask when will humankind learn another way.
II suspect it is for this reason that the dust of my shoes took on monstrous importance.
It is the simple dust that perhaps tries to compensate for the monstrosity of war, terror, and killing.
In the end my feet and the forces of nature offered me a “solution.” I went walking after the rains with my trusty four-legged partner, Bella after the rains. I returned with mud-filled hiking shoes. The dust of the Dolomites became intermingled with the mud of my own country.
I think I need the knowledge of the mud and the hope and memories of the dust. Life is kinda like that — filled with sun, dust, mountains, and mud. Sometimes in the mud we also find the gold.
I must cling to the simplicity of the hiking in the mountains. I must cling to the healing potential of nature. I must continue to struggle with questions of good and evil and to ask hard questions about the human condition that includes war.
I continue to hold dear the beautiful piece of art that frames the numinosity in the world. It is in these places that I can hear the still small voice of Godliness and good and purpose. I can hope for a better future for my grandchildren.
Please follow me and discover articles on mindfulness, finding peace in difficult times, Jung, longing and the Little Prince, Black Lives Matter, Amanda Gorman’s poetry and childhood nostalgia such as lighthouses and ice-cream trucks.One of my favorites is Dark Feet & Dark Wings: Wendell Berry’s Wisdom for Difficult Times.
Robin B. Zeiger is a practicing Jungian psychoanalyst, a certified Sandplay therapist, and a free-lance writer.
She is a member of the:
International Association of Analytical Psychology the Israel Institute of Jungian Psychology and president of the Israel Therapists Sandplay Association. She can be reached at rbzeiger@yahoo.com.
