Learning to Walk
by Jason Godesky“No shirt, no shoes, no service.” It’s a common enough sign in store windows and other establishments, though, who would ever be seen without shoes? Shoes are essential to civilized life, and they bring with them a distinctly civilized manner of walking: lock the knee, and brace a controlled fall on the heel; roll the foot forward, rocking into another locked-knee heel-fall. It’s difficult to walk any other way while wearing shoes, and you’ll often find this described as the way humans walk. But of course, humans are not born with shoes on, nor did we evolve in shoes. Every human begins walking a different way, and needs to be meticulously trained to walk like this.
Cover of The Tracker magazine, vol. 4, no. 1, published in 1985, illustrates fox walking.
Tom Brown, Jr. put it quite starkly: “Our walk is devastating, not natural. Little babies have shoes like cement boots. Our feet are ruined from the first step we take in shoes.” Walking barefoot, most of us naturally adopt a very different step: the knees are bent, rather than locked; the outside ball of the foot touches the ground to test it first, before applying any weight; then, if it’s safe, we roll the rest of the ball in and flatten the heel; only then does the weight come down. This is what Tom Brown and his students called “fox walking.”
This kind of walking can be difficult for people who’ve spent much of their lives in shoes. It uses muscles that “cow walking” has allowed to atrophy, perhaps most notably the gluteus maximus.1 The largest muscle in the human body is barely involved in civilized walking, but exercised with each step in a “fox walk.” It is similar to the “empty stepping” of t’ai chi.2 You might also notice similarities to models on the catwalk; we still have an innate response to this kind of walking as “sexy.” This kind of walking will reduce the strain on your body and the damage to the countryside you walk over; beyond ecological footprint, it will lighten your own body’s footprint. Children who learn to walk like this can walk much farther.
Corns, bunyans, and in-grown toenails can only grow inside the dark dampness of shoes. We have to watch where we step, and even so frequently step on people or hazards like nails, thumbtacks or just sharp, pointy rocks. We trip, fall and have accidents because the very first movement in the “cow walk” commits our total weight to the step. Fox walking commits weight only at the end, after the foot has touched the ground and knows what’s there. For that reason alone, fox walking practically eliminates the accidents, trips, falls and other problems we so often encounter in our “cow walk.” Moreover, fox walking develops a keen sense of balance that cow walking neglects.3 There are more systemic health problems associated with it beyond accidents, though. With each step in our normal “cow walk” we pound our legs into the earth, sending shocks up the leg and into the lower back. Back pain and foot pain follow from that kind of constant pressure; fox walking helps alleviate both.
Fox Walking has affected me in several simple but profound ways. When fox walking my lower back, which was injured, seems to relax and in turn relieves the pain. Even more profound is the feeling of soft energy currents that seem to flow down my legs. I feel my feet make contact with the ground in a new and pleasurable way. The energy literally flows from my feet into the ground. With this new grounding of the energy to the earth it brings with it a new awareness or “contact” both with my own body sensations and my surroundings. In this relaxed and energetically flowing state I simply function in the moment, in the pulsation as it were. Not thinking in the future or in the past and not thinking at all as we normally think of thinking. The fox walk is like what church people call walking in grace, a feeling of gratitude in each step, an intense alive feeling, a deep understanding that comes from your entire organism.
The subjective difference between fox walking and regular walking is analogous to two men at work. One man hates his work from 8 to 5 and dreads the thought of ever coming back. He leaves work at five exhausted and without experiencing any pleasure in his day. The second man loves his work, does not want to leave after 8 hours, is in the groove, and has more energy after work than he did when he started. Being “in the groove”, so to speak, with fox walking might shed some light as to why the Indian scouts could fox walk or fox run such long distances, and not only not be tired, but be exhilarated at the end. It was not simply that they were in good shape but that they were energetically “in the groove” or “pulsation”. (Akido is another clear example of this.)4
There is certainly plenty of accounts of native populations that could perform feats that seem almost superhuman to us with our modern “cow walk.” In his 1936 Gospel of the Redman, Ernest Thompson Seton, who largely started the “Scouting” movement (Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts), wrote:
The most famous runner of ancient Greece was Pheidippides, whose record run from Athens to Sparta was 140 miles in 36 hours. Among our Indians, such a feat would have been considered very second-rate. In 1882, at Fort Ellice, I saw a young Cree who, on foot, had just brought in despatches from Fort Qu’Appelle (125 miles away) in 25 hours. It created almost no comment. I heard little from the traders but cool remarks like, “a good boy”, “pretty good run”. It was obviously a very usual exploit, among Indians. The two Indian runners, Thomas Zafiro and Leonicio San Miguel, ran 62 1/2 miles, i.e. from Pachuca to Mexico City, in 9 hours, 37 minutes, November 8, 1926, according to the El Paso Times, February 14, 1932. This was 9 1/4 minutes to the mile. The Zunis have a race called, “Kicked Stick.” In this, the contestants each kick a stick before them as they run. Dr. F. W. Hodge tells me that there is a record of 20 miles covered in 2 hours by one of the kickers. The Tarahumare mail carrier runs 70 miles a day, every day in the week, carrying a heavy mailbag, and he doesn’t know that he is doing an exploit. In addition, we are told: “The Tarahumare mail carrier from Chihuahua to Batopiles, Mexico, runs regularly more than 500 miles a week; a Hopi messenger has been known to run 120 miles in 15 hours.”
If our modern walk is maladaptive, then this begins to make sense; rather than such feats being superhuman, we can see that they are perfectly human, and it is we, domesticated humans, who have been diminished. And why not? Homo sapiens has been as finely tuned to bipedalism as a shark to hunting underwater.
The noted anthropologist Frederick Wood-Jones states, “Man’s foot is all his own and unlike any other foot. It is the most distinctive part of his whole anatomical makeup. It is a human specialization; it is his hallmark, and so long as man has been man, it is by his feet that he will be known from all other creatures of the animal kingdom. It is his feet that will confer upon him his only real distinction and provide his only valid claim to human status.” To that, Donald C. Johanson, paleoanthropologist and chief of the Institute of Human Origins, Berkeley, California, adds, “Bipedalism is what made us human,” Thus, man stands alone because only man stands.5
Horses and dogs can easily beat humans in an initial sprint, but over long distances, humans prevail as endurance runners by keeping up our pace long after faster animals have stopped.5 Many hunter-gatherers, particularly before atlatl, bows or slings, ran their prey to death. The key to such feats is walking properly, the way we evolved to walk. That largely means walking barefoot; it is almost impossible to fox walk in shoes, and when barefoot, most of us naturally begin to slide into fox walking. It is certainly possible to fox walk in shoes, although some have compared that feat to teaching the deaf to speak, since you lack the tactile feedback of the nerve endings in your feet. The physiological effect of shoes is similar to that of a cast.
Shoes act like casts, holding the bones of the foot so rigid that they can’t move fluidly, Steven Robbins [MD and adjunct associate professor of mechanical engineering at Concordia University, Montreal] explains. “The foot becomes passive from wearing shoes and loses the ability to support itself.”6
A comparison of wild and domesticated human feet. Notice any familiar differences? Source
Another doctor describes his own revelation about the effect shoes have on the human foot:
At last I began to understand the cause of fallen arches and the origin of foot trouble. With his toes continually pressed together in his shoes, his body had to improvise a brace—instead of leaning on his weakened, squeezed-together toes, the inner sides of his feet were turned outward for balance. I realized then why people persist in leaning on their strained inner arches, which were never meant to support continuous leaning, and why they have to push off painfully from their arches instead of their toes, at the end of each step.
Going barefoot had made this boy’s toe area broader and stronger. When he stood, his stronger toes were now able to spread out, giving him a broad forward area on which to support his weight. Now he used his toes in standing and walking-he would even stand on his toes frequently while playing. His fallen arches were cured. With better foot balance, he rarely fell. He no longer begged to be carried, and he seemed tireless in his activities.7
Walking, the most fundamental human activity, can become an isolating experience bound in such a cast, and painful, as well. Each step pounds a knee-locked leg into the ground and into the lower back. The mythical dualism of “mind” and “body” deadens us to the effect such ubiquitous, constant pain can have. We feel and even think with our whole bodies, and the constant pressure, shearing and pain that the “cow walk” puts us through with every step eventually seeps into our attitudes, beliefs and outlooks. The “Barefoot Bard” recounts how this happened to him:
My feet hurt, and this chronic pain was growing in intensity, making even simple walking painful. The pain soon spread from my feet to my knees, into my low back, and eventually my neck. I was walking in the forest less and less, missing my stress relief workouts. And yet, I persevered into more shoe remedies, podiatrist consultations, inserts, homeopathic, chiropractic and hands on healing … still no relief.
At the same time another pain that was growing in me. I was uncomfortable, not with just the pain in my feet, but in my life, in the life I was living. I was feeling disconnected, lost, confused, bored and frustrated. It felt like no one was listening. Maybe it was me?
Something was wrong with life, the way I was living, and it had to do with the pain in my feet. This pain was trying to tell me something. Some how this pain in my soles wanted me to look at my whole life. I knew that I had to follow this pain.8
He goes on to notice even more strongly the similarities between shoes and casts, and the Chinese practice of foot-binding, so often decried in the West as barbaric—and yet, so similar to the high heels and various shoe-based torture implements into which we wedge the female foot.
So I was sitting in my cabin, with a fire, my feet casted . There was a stack of National Geographic Magazines left there by my grandfather. I picked one up and opened it to page on Chinese women who had their feet wrapped because of a cultural story. I just stared at the pictures stared at my feet. Until the realization came to me and the words popped out of my mouth. “What have I done?” A question that came deep from in my core. I looked at all the shoes in a neat line, under the cabin window, and the most obvious shoe on the end of my feet, casting!
By morning I had taken my hunting knife and cut off those casts and was out walking around in the old growth forest with a couple of deformed white puffy feet. Feet that had been distorted and crippled from wearing shoes and walking on flat square surfaces. I walked around for several days, confused, horrified as to what I had done to my feet.
I finally came to a clear pool of water, looked down at the reflection of my body, strong muscles and feet that did not fit it. I vowed to make things right. I would walk, barefoot in the old growth forest and grow my feet back on to my body, and I was in the best place in the world to do it. The old growth forest know how to grow things. I took my first steps.9
There is nothing mystical at work here; any creature in constant pain will begin to develop a sour disposition. We are put out of touch with the very ground we walk on, cut off from our own senses and the synaesthetic experience of a simple walk.
Being barefoot makes you more aware of your environment. Having your feet unprotected means you are aware of their vulnerability and pay more attention to where you are going. Not only this but you have a whole extra sense engaged. Normally we see, hear and ocassionally smell things on our travels—we don’t feel them.
When recalling yesterday’s walk to my friends house I remember not just how the journey looked, and sounded but how it felt too. The roughness of the gravel near the mosque; the pressure of the knobbly non-slip paving near the traffic lights; the coolness of the iron manhole cover.10
The “Barefoot Bard” puts a similar experience in other terms, contrasting the effects of clod cow walking, and unclod fox walking:
Try a small experiment. Take off your shoes, plug your ears, and walk across the space you now occupy. Then listen for the thud in your body. If you are a heel walker you will here the impact of your step. You are walking “ON” your bones. You are walking “ON” the earth.
Now, stand with your feet together, fall forward and land on the largest part of you foot, the front pad, get a feel for this. Then once again with no shoes and ears plugged walk across the floor in this forefoot manner, Then listen to see if you hear the thud. You are stepping “IN” your joints. You are stepping “IN” the earth.
There is stepping in and stepping on. Focus on it, work on it, connect with these two varieties of walking and then read on, and take this practice out into the natural surface areas.
When you walk heel first, you pound your bones. When you step more into the forefoot, you step into your joints. I call this Integrative walking and it is a posture that you will grow and feel your way into. Changing your body posture.11
Shoe-wearing civilized people have remarked on the “fear of man” exhibited by other animals. Even experienced hikers walking through wilderness areas will often complain that they never saw a wild animal. Of course, other animals have senses as finely tuned as our own, and still use them. They experience the world synaesthetically, and communicate frequently with one another; other animals will react to the alarms raised by bird calls, and even plants will eavesdrop on one another.12 The shoe-clod, cow-walking, domesticated human sticks out like a sore thumb; the unnatural gait and jerking, half-falling movements are alien, terrifying, and produce signs from quite a while off. Animals run and hide from such an unnatural aberration long before the hiker has a chance to see them. But the very same people, fox walking, report a very different experience.
Also when fox walking, wild animals are not as afraid of me and at times it feels as though I am almost invisible. In fact, the animals “appear” all around me rather than me looking for them. Domestic animals, such as dogs or cows, on the other hand, are alarmed and seem to feel danger when you fox walk and are relaxed when you cow walk. Its almost like they sense the wild animal in you.13
When humans fox walk, we’re identifiable as animals, because we’re walking like animals. Other animals recognize this. This is the value of fox-walking to trackers and hunters: it is the first element of successful stalking. By using the nerve endings in your feet, fox walking allows a hunter to keep his eyes up, using wide-angle vision to catch any sign of movement, instead of watching the ground in front of him to make sure he doesn’t step on a dried twig or some hazard. But even if you’re not hunting or stalking, fox walking remains the normal human mode of walking, with extensive benefits for health and general well-being.
But as George Orwell said, “During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” We might say with regards to fox walking that in times of universal pathology, walking like a healthy human being will draw a lot of attention. We already mentioned “No shirt, no shoes, no service,” and the cultural commitment to overcoming our humanity implied in that standard.
Did you know that fox walking in the city is a suspicious activity? There I was on the Monday after class quietly, and slowly walking through a small neighborhood park in suburban D.C. From a fox walk I went into a stalk towards an all-too-suspecting robin which immediately flew away. I resumed my fox walk and, using my splatter vision as I neared the road, I noticed that I was being followed by a car. It pulled up beside me and the man inside flashed a badge and said, “Chevy Chase Police Department!”
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“Just walking,” I said.
“I can see that,” he snapped. “What’re you, into trees or forestry or something?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“OK,” he said. “Just checking.”
And we said goodbye and off drove, and off I (fox) walked. So watch out fellow trackers, your activities will seem a bit strange to others!14
The “Barefoot Bard” brings this basic hostility to a healthy human gait into clearer focus, as he describes the concern his walking left among friends and family, and one friend in particular who put that concern in very blunt and honest terms.
One of these concerned friends, a religious man, joined me in [the] forest for a walk. On the trail, he was in his boots, I was on my soles. He began to share his concerns about me. He remarked that I was “walking like an animal.” Yes, he said, “You walk like a animal!” I stopped in my tracks.
He went on about how, “walking on your paws, is the way an animal walks, savages walk, primitives walk and we are no longer animals. We are highly evolved beings. We are civilized beings!” He walked along side me, landing on his heels, pounding on the path, stepping on a banana slugs, stomping on plants. The more he preached his concerns and marched on the path, the more I could see the difference in our walk. The less I trusted the talk, not him, but his talk. …
Could it all be so simple? Opening my soles to the earth, walking in this way, I would step into and uncover my original talk. A talk that I began as a child when I took my first steps.
My religious friend, scholars and historians agree Buddha and Jesus walked barefoot. Primitive man walked barefoot. Most children take their first step barefoot. Using the dynamic touch and agility of the naked foot to stabilize their balance and move forward, forefoot first. Have you ever seen a child walk heel first?15
When Moses approached the burning bush, he had to take off his sandals, because it was holy ground. Hindu temples and Muslim mosques alike require the faithful to remove their shoes. We have a basic understanding that we must meet holy ground only with our soles. To an animist, the entire landscape is alive, and the earth is holy ground. The shoe isolates us from the living landscape that sustains us, it cuts us off from the soil we’re rooted in, and inflates our ego to make us think that we are “free,” by which we mean isolated and disconnected. We’re not; we’re just crippled inside our casts.
At the same time it is exhilirating to be reminded that our humanity was never so far away at all. We think and feel and live with our whole bodies, not just as disconnected brains; to step in the living soil, to walk with our soles on holy ground, to walk as humans evolved to walk. We’re two-legged creatures built by evolution for walking, and we’ve lost even that. It can be depressing to realize that we don’t even know something that basic; yet, a moment’s reflection should serve to buoy your spirits as you remember how much of your humanity you can reclaim just by learning to walk.
This is awesome, Jason, and well worth the wait.
The link to citation for plants eavesdropping (#12) appears to require a paid subscription in order to access the article. Quite disappointing as the prospect of understanding the sensuous experience of plants really got me interested.
Again, you’ve written something that I think would benefit the REWILD.info wiki, and I would love to copy it over. Are the images from public domain sources or are you using them via “fair use”?
Comment by Rix — 28 June 2007 @ 4:30 PM
For eavesdropping plants, try this:
http://www.livescience.com/strangenews/060306_plant_defense.html
Most of the images I use are spotty, copyright-wise. I’m mostly banking on fair use, and that basic policy that it’s always easier to say “sorry” than “please.” But the content, by all means, swipe away. Everything here is Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 (click the little Creative Commons logo at the bottom of the page), and frankly, I’d drop the attribution requirement if I could (though if you want to attribute it, that will give me warm fuzzies).
Pictures, use at the same risk I take.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 28 June 2007 @ 4:44 PM
Thanks for the new eavesdropping link. I’ll reference both the old and the new in the REWILD. info wiki article.
Ha! That reminds me how a friend of mine at college always used to say (to the evangelical establishment at my Baptist college) “It’s easier to seek forgiveness than permission.” They didn’t like that attitude. He would often have to follow it up with, “Well, I think Jesus would forgive me in this situation.” They liked that even less.
I think I’ll just link to the pictures and video instead of risking the fair use. The tracker community has come across as strangely proprietary at times when Scout and I have sought permission to use material for the wiki–which I find strange. It seems like sharing primitive knowledge via primitive concepts of ownership (i.e., not forcing ownership issues) makes the most sense–especially on sites where they’re not trying to make money off the information.
Ah, well, we all have civilized quagmires we have trouble seeing our way out of in the process of rewilding, and I guess copyright concepts can be as ingrained as the idea of buying food.
I loved how you expressed the concept of ownership in the 5th World core-rulebook. “Hey, I have a relationship going on with spirit right now. Do you mind waiting until we’re done?” Beautiful.
Comment by Rix — 28 June 2007 @ 5:14 PM
People like the Native Americans did have footwear though. The moccasin is synonymous with the American Indian. Of course the moccasin is definately not a “shoe” in our sense of the word, but is light, flexible, protective footwear that is practically molded on one’s foot perfectly. Even the thicker mukluk is still very light and yielding.
Comment by Andy — 28 June 2007 @ 5:55 PM
Not all of them, and not all the time. Moccasins were primarily for protection from cold, not from sharp pointy things, so even the cultures that did use moccasins didn’t use them all the time, the way we use shoes. As you pointed out, these “shoes” emphasize maintaining the foot’s senses and flexibility, and very importantly, they don’t have soles. A moccasin with soles isn’t really a moccasin.
As I said, you can fox walk even with regular shoes on, it’s just much, much harder. Fox walking in moccasins is actually fairly easy, because it changes very little compared to walking barefoot. It may not be ideal, but if you live in a place with cold winters, it’s probably your optimal compromise.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 28 June 2007 @ 6:02 PM
I noticed this when I recently went walking barefoot. (I should do it again - my partner mother-henned behind me the whole way, invoking spirits of glass shards, stubbed toes and I don’t know what else)
I was fine all the time I was out, but noticed when I’d got back in that my feet suddenly hurt more. Like, a *lot* more.
And I figured out what it was - outside, where I needed to pay attention to where I stood, I’d been foxwalking. Inside, with no broken glass, smooth floors and carpet, I’d reverted back to stomping around like an elephant, putting more pressure on the soles of my feet which were scuffed and slightly cut (spots of blood here and there; I didn’t even notice them) from walking on concrete.
Once I started treading lightly on the balls of my feet again, the pain pretty much went away.
And I loved it! Nobody stared or said anything, it didn’t take too much longer than usual, the pavements between here and where I went are, shall we say, “differently maintained”, and it’s a city area with a lot of hazards for unwary feet.
The best part, though, was coming home across cool, damp grass after beating up my bare feet on pavement. Luxury.
(Oh, and I noticed straight away that the roads, for cars, are way smoother and flatter than the pavements, for feet. Priorities!)
Comment by Vashti — 28 June 2007 @ 6:31 PM
that was an enjoyable read - thanks.
I remember hearing my friend’s stories about Papua New Guinea when he was overseas. The Maori people use their feet like hands often - and he told me how they make great roofers because they use their feet to pick up and hold nails in place when hammering with their hands!
Julianne Butterfly also reported gaining “prehensile” abilities with her feet after a year without shoes, back when she was sitting around in that redwood tree. So it doesn’t take too long to regain the usefulness of feet!
Comment by Dungan — 28 June 2007 @ 7:56 PM
Yesterday, Jason and I went to the mall (I know… ugh) to pick up fishing licenses at Gander Mountain. Jason went to the bathroom in the rest area near the food court, and while I waited for him, I practiced fox walking in the little alcove just outside. After he left the bathroom, Jason told me that two men had walked in talking with admiration about “that bitch in the ‘Why Farm?’ t-shirt” and expressing interest in “fuck[ing]” me. (The word “bitch” is obviously used here in the sexually appreciative/exploitative manner of gansta rappers, as opposed to them being pissed off at me for no apparent reason.)
This has made me a little self-conscious about fox walking in public, for fear that I look like a hooker. It is a sexy walk, which is at first good for self-esteem, but later becomes bad for self-esteem once you realize that you are not the only person who has noticed your sexiness.
Of course, it might not have been the fox walk that made those guys attracted to me. It could just be that they’re pigs and I have boobies. Or it could be that Anthropik t-shirts make the wearer utterly irresistible to the opposite sex. Hint, hint. Wink, wink.
Comment by Giulianna Lamanna — 28 June 2007 @ 8:35 PM
Interesting… However… What reason do we have to think that shoes were invented by the civilized? Because my guess would be that shoes are simply an adaptation to cold weather. Any clue about what the footwear of the indigenous peoples of e.g. Scandinavia looked like?
Comment by Hasha — 28 June 2007 @ 9:26 PM
The shoe, as we know it (as distinguished from, say, the moccasin; see above) really only goes back to the Middle Ages. Even the sandals used in the Classical world left a lot of room for the foot to move, feel and flex.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 28 June 2007 @ 9:31 PM
Jason,
I’ve been browsing through your site for a few days, this was another excellent article. You’re a very clear thinker, and an excellent writer.
Comment by Erik Schimek — 28 June 2007 @ 9:41 PM
Great article!
I have recently started jogging in an effort to shake off some blubber - walking just ain’t doin it, unfortunately. Anyway, I’ve taken to jogging barefoot around a local football oval in the evenings. As you can imagine, I get some s t r a n g e looks by the heroic footballers while they train in their nice, expensive Made In Sweatshop boots, especially seeing as the temperature has been around 5-10 degrees celcius (41-50 F) for the last week at that time of the evening!
One thing that long ago put me off jogging or running as exercise was the insane jarring and pain that I would get throughout my whole body. That, and the fact that I just felt very, very uncoordinated. A while ago I realized that it wasn’t me - it was the fact that I was wearing shoes! Running barefoot on grass gives me none of that, even thought I’m about 20-25kg (50lb) overweight. However, I can’t help but imagine that the crap leaching out of the damp garish green fertilizer pellets that are scattered everywhere is being absorbed into my bloodstream…
Same thing with walking, although unfortunately, I do wear shoes most of the time because of my job.
When I do have shoes on, I take a hybrid approach - I come down heel first, but more on the outer edge of my foot, then roll it inwards while lowering the ball. Probably not ideal, especially for my ankles, but I get less of the cow-feeling and jarring happening. Due to this, my shoes tend to wear faster on the outer edges of the soles.
Actually, the other week I went to a local shoe factory to see about buying some shoes . I showed the salesperson/fitter my old ones, and upon noticing how they were worn, she gently told me off for walking incorrectly. She also told me how soooo many people don’t walk in the proper manner. According to her, the way that I should be walking is - yep - like a cow. She suggested going to a specialist, or at the very least getting some orthotic insoles. Needless to say, I didn’t take her advice (I also didn’t buy any shoes.) That experience makes me wonder how many people are taught to walk properly like a cow by the specialists they are referred to…
Comment by qd — 28 June 2007 @ 10:09 PM
Excellent post. I have been a serious fan of barefoot walking for most of my life. Unfortunately I currently live in a city, surrounded by concrete, where it is not really possible to go barefoot at all.
For more info on the topic, I recommend: http://barefooters.org/
Comment by dagnabit — 28 June 2007 @ 10:13 PM
Walking barefoot can lead to infestation by parasites, such as hook worm. In most cases hook worms cause no systoms in their host. They can also solve the problems of allergies. Take a look at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2006/4/30/91945/8971
Athlete’s foot and plantar’s warts are other nasty things that can assault bare feet.
I would like to create a training regimen for walking barefoot. If any one has one that work for themselves, then please share the details of it.
Comment by K — 28 June 2007 @ 11:40 PM
I was under the impression that those were primarily problems of people who wore heavily insulated shoes and socks…
Comment by Giulianna Lamanna — 28 June 2007 @ 11:44 PM
Athlete’s foot is a fungal infection, and can only grow in dark, damp environments, like in a shoe. Walking barefoot will actually clear up athlete’s foot very quickly.
Plantar warts are caused by HPV; walking barefoot will risk plantar warts primarily in public bathrooms and such.
The incidence of hookworm for people going barefoot is grossly exaggerated; yes, it can happen, but not nearly as commonly as we generally suppose. Of course, various parasites—worms, ticks, etc.—are part of living in the world, and as you pointed out, need not necessarily be entirely negative. There are also plenty of ways to take care of such problems; know how to treat ticks and other parasites before you head out.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 28 June 2007 @ 11:58 PM
what fun!
i just checked all of my shoes to see what the pattern of wearing on the soles might tell me–the outside edge toward the front, at the ball of the foot, is much more worn than the inside or the heel.
then i pranced around the room for a bit (i’m always barefoot indoors, even at work) and i really can’t tell if what i naturally do is similar to the fox walk or not…
when i pass through wooded areas on my way home from work (barefoot when and where appropriate) i often try to walk as quietly as possible to see if i can sneak up on the other little critters, and simulating that now in the house, it seems like it may be close to the fox walker thing…also, i’ve always had my feet pointing directly forward, and the steps fall close together but not quite like walking on a narrow beam or wall.
i think i’ve noticed that people who practice a lot of yoga or dance forms walk with a bounce, maybe like this style of walking?
(oh…and i’ve always been able to hold a fat pen with my toes and write letters on paper! monkey toes!)
Comment by patricia — 29 June 2007 @ 12:02 AM
My first post was too simplistic. Sorry about that.
Heavily insulated shoes and socks tend to trap moisture right against the feet, which in turn makes athlete’s foot worse for the sufferer. I don’t know about their effect on plantar’s warts.
A modern urban lifestyle in a moist or humid climate can easily beat the feet. People go to work or school and then don’t take their shoes off for hours; then they go to a gym to exercise where they have to change shoes in the locker room and have to take them off to shower (hopefully they have their own flip-flops to wear there). The locker room and shower tend to be warm, moist, and have many humans passing through who can transmit their germs to other humans who come by later.
Going barefoot constantly, day-in, day out, is one of the ways to treat athlete’s foot. I doubt most bosses would let their employees who have athlete’s foot, do so.
Comment by K — 29 June 2007 @ 12:25 AM
I found this an interesting related topic, not that it needed to be verified scientifically:
“The important finding of this study is that the human body when grounded is naturally protected from static electricity and the weak electric currents created in the body by radiated electric fields. The benefits of grounding the body are; sleep significantly improves, muscles relax, chronic back and joint pain subsides and general health improves.”
http://www.esdjournal.com/articles/cober/ground.htm
I’m going to go sleep outside, goodnight.
Comment by Jason G — 29 June 2007 @ 1:22 AM
Forgot to mention the free online book, “The Barefoot Hiker” by Richard Keith Frazine:
http://members.aol.com/bhthom/hikertxt.htm
I originally saw it mentioned on Ran’s site!
Comment by qd — 29 June 2007 @ 2:04 AM
Awesome post, Jason. What kind of culture has to teach people to do everything differently (and less efficiently!) to how they would naturally.
“Or it could be that Anthropik t-shirts make the wearer utterly irresistible to the opposite sex.”
LOL
I’m off to fox around the office some more.
Comment by Dan Bartlett — 29 June 2007 @ 5:23 AM
I’ll answer my own question: civilisation relies on the total cultural and behavioural legitimisation of disconnection, across all levels. If there is any relent, we are dangerously close to finding ourselves.
In my book I’ve been using that as an underlying theme. In truth, our bodies give us all the feedback we ever need, even philosophical. I like to call it philo-physical feedback. Ill world makes ill humans.
I love how just learning to walk again can help this. This has really helped me out and given me a new avenue to work on. I’m in good shape, but my feet have always been my weak spots. Now I can finally bring them back to life.
Comment by Dan Bartlett — 29 June 2007 @ 5:29 AM
Everyone should also check out question #17 of the Barefoot FAQ: What can I say to passers-by if they make a comment? Hahaha.
Where are your shoes?
- At home [where they belong].
- I don’t know. [Have you seen them?]
- Somewhere else.
- What do you mean? These are God’s Reeboks.
- On vacation.
- Don’t have any.
- My what?
- What are shoes?
- Up there. [Said while pointing up.]
- Aliens took them.
Comment by Dan Bartlett — 29 June 2007 @ 5:39 AM
lol! ha! I love that story! Beautiful!
Huh. I always just chalked up my ability to do that to my “monkey feet”.
I have a tendency to use a hybrid approach as well, but not consistently (probably cause I don’t do it consciously). Instead of rolling around the outside of my foot though, I substitute the ‘arch-side’ of the ball of my foot for the ‘toe-side’. This also leads to an irregular wear pattern. Which I, too, have had commented on by “experts”. But because my toes are a bit different from the norm, I always just blew it off as not appropriate for my body.
I think you might be surprised. When I was a kid in San Diego, I ran around barefoot all the time, regardless of whether it was concrete, asphalt (well, that tended to be avoided in the summer; I swear that shit gets hotter than the sun in So Cal summers….) or whatever. Sure there was broken glass and gods-know-what lying around, but it was pretty easily stepped around, and I don’t ever recall having a issue with it. I have noticed that since I don’t do that as often as I used to, my feet are a little more sensitive to the roughness of concrete now, but that should go away just by doing it more.
Comment by jhereg — 29 June 2007 @ 8:07 AM
Really, there’s only a few things basically wrong with civilization. They’re fundamental things that define civilization, but they’re startlingly few in number. Everything else are simply the consequences of those points, and those can be charted out forever. And yet, underlying each of them is the theme of almost every Greek tragedy: hubris. The basic conviction that we can improve upon what the gods (or evolution) have created. We chuck what worked and substitute our own. We chuck the hunter-gatherer mode we evolved with in favor of catastrophic agriculture. We chuck normal walking for “cow walking.” There’s not a lot of fundamental problems, just a few, with many, many consequences—and all of them spring from our conviction that we know better.
Of course, we don’t, and we tend to learn that the hard way.
That’s one of the advantages of fox-walking; because you use your feet’s tactile senses to test the ground before you apply your weight, you don’t step on things like broken glass, the way you do when you’re clomping about in your shoes with no feedback, throwing your weight before you even know where you’re throwing it.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 29 June 2007 @ 9:23 AM
Jason, this is beautiful, and indicates your own personal strength of not just intelligence per se, but emotional intelligence. In our own times, who would even realize the importance of the feet? Welcome to Anthropik.
I want to draw an analogy with the paleo diet. The paleo diet makes me well instead of sick. I should understand these things. But it has never occurred to me that my feet might be the result of civilization rather than my genes. Yeah, I am a flat-footed loser … It’s the genes, right? Actually, it can’t be the damn genes. The feet are fundamental for human beings, as you have just pointed out. What is a human being that can’t walk properly? Wouldn’t evolution punish such a thing with unimaginable severity? A person that can’t walk is a chimera, a purely fictional impossibility.
An example. I recall trying to ford a stream in Indonesia. My companion was just some ordinary Indonesian town dweller - not villager, town dweller. He crossed this two-foot deep fifty-foot broad waterway without even a thought. I almost collapsed in pain on my first step. I needed to use my hands to make sure I could get across. Even to this day, I can’t walk on smooth rocks. Yes, smooth rocks, not sharp ones.
The thing is, it can’t be true. It’s impossible. Something like me would be dead in five minutes in an original human environment. In the same way that something like me would never know love on a Neo diet, through the sheer ugliness it results in.
This avenue of exploration is first rate. Might I some day pass my feet across rocks without feeling like Torquemada is just getting warmed up? It must be so. It can’t be otherwise.
Many thanks.
Comment by Eric — 29 June 2007 @ 9:41 AM
Thanks, Eric, and everyone else who’s had such nice things to say about this article.
I think you’re absolutely right. It can be easy to get discouraged when we think of how much we’ve lost, but discouragement doesn’t help anyone. It should be just as encouraging to know how much we’ve always had inside of us, and that there’s absolutely no doubt that we can unlock that with a few simple changes. We’re human—how could it possibly be otherwise?
Comment by Jason Godesky — 29 June 2007 @ 9:48 AM
In the spirit of Pete Townshend after a particularly rousing version of ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ live at the Royal Albert Hall on November 27, 2000:
YES!
I remember a family walk on a scorching hot day out in the North-West Czech countryside. The tarmac on the roads is properly smooth over there, not granule-y like it mostly is here. This particular day the mid-afternoon sun was beating down so fiercely that the stuff was actually melting under our feet.
I took my shoes off and was instantly connected to this immense radiant heat, as though I were being lightly roasted from the feet all the way up. At every step there was a slight sinking sensation, and when I looked back I could see a nice trail of heel-, sole- and toe-marks meandering through the heavier boot and trainer tracks along the side of the road. Feet and shoes were both black on the undersides at the end of the day.
Perhaps some archaeologist will discover the trail in years to come, excited at last to have found proof of a sometime peaceful co-existence between Cow and Fox peoples…
Comment by Ian M — 29 June 2007 @ 9:52 AM
Really, there’s only a few things basically wrong with civilization. They’re fundamental things that define civilization, but they’re startlingly few in number. Everything else are simply the consequences of those points, and those can be charted out forever.
*nods* These recent “environmental” and “social” problems are processes of inevitability under the narrow framework of civilisation. Bad judgement doesn’t really come into it, unless your judging the very feasibility of civilisation itself, a road of inquest that is obviously shunned from within civilisation.
The more I write and explore, the more I’ve come to agree with what you said: [the] fundamental things that define civilization [are] startlingly few in number. The difficulty in confronting those things is in understanding how they hide behind the true elements of humanity, creating false emotional relationships to concepts and ideas that in reality mean nothing, or are totally insane without all the goodness of humanity to prop them up.
Only the absolute minimum of humanity is left free to keep us alive enough to work; tribe like friend groups, music, community, dance etc. Even these things though are gradually being crushed under the weight of progress. Now we’re at breaking point.
Comment by Dan Bartlett — 29 June 2007 @ 11:23 AM
Absolutely. People often point to the “good things” in life to illustrate that civilization isn’t so bad. But they invariably point to things that not only aren’t civilized, but outright defy civilization. But it’s like the steam pressure in a train. If you didn’t pull the whistle from time to time, the engine would explode. Civilization, in its purest sense, is impossible. It requires some degree of uncivilized, humanizing behavior, or else we’d all snap and the whole thing would come tumbling down. So civilization walks a razor’s edge, trying to maximize civilization, but also knowing that becoming too civilized would result in total breakdown. It’s a matter of how much you can strangle your humanity before you simply kill it entirely.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 29 June 2007 @ 11:39 AM
the Q&A list is cute!
but i’ve actually only ever gotten positive reactions from people i pass in the park on my barefoot walks home from work, shoes in hand. in fact, people, on average, seem to be *more* friendly or likely to say “hi” when i am carrying my shoes rather than wearing them (now…being in the park may have some effect, though, of course, but i’m usually otherwise pretty clearly in “office wear” except for my feet.)
one early evening i was walking through just after a good rain, and some exercising types came up from behind me along the path (i was in the grass) and made a comment about being in the movie “Barefoot in the Park” or something, and i just smiled at them and said: Be honest, don’t you sometimes want to take your shoes off? (and they had to admit that they did–but of course they only continued with their torture/running routine instead.)
i’m barefoot at work, right now as i type this.
Comment by patricia — 29 June 2007 @ 12:35 PM
We’re in da ‘Burgh. Awfully close to West Virginia. That may have an impact.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 29 June 2007 @ 12:39 PM
Thank you so much for writing this. I’m troubled every day by the fact that I have to wear crippling shoes just to appear somewhat acceptable. I’ve been running barefoot for 3 years now, ever since I found out just how shitty shoes are, and other than that I try to get by in thongs whenever ’shoes’ are expected. I dread every hour I have to wear the actual things, and I’m disgust