My Foot at a Right Angle

Last Saturday evening, I was in a local pub with my wife and a group of friends.

In one of the new micro-pubs* which are opening up with great frequency in the area where I live, I found myself propped up, by leaning against a pillar, with my right shoulder, and my right leg straight down with my foot out in front of me.

However, when I looked down to my left side, my left foot had disappeared – it was not visible from the angle of its placement to my line of sight.

It felt a bit weird. I had bent my left leg and then turned the knee outwards at 90 degrees, and then the foot at 90 degrees. This gave the appearance that my foot was at 180 degrees to its normal position  – as if the foot was on, back to front.

It was also invisible, because the calf of my left leg bulged out and obscured my view of my foot.

I must have been momentarily distracted from the group conversation, because I found myself, moving the foot in and out of my line of sight and feeling quite strange at what looked  like some magical contortion of the foot.

I think, this ability to discover unusual capabilities about what is physically possible for us all, has something to say to each of us, about giving ourselves up to a willingness to be surprised.

As I get older – into my mid-fifties – I sense a physical aging, but also a growing fascination with the vein structures in my hands and feet.

The act of bringing our hands up to our face, and looking intently at the folds in the fingers and the life-lines on the palms, refresh and renew our sense of who we are and how our body has evolved with us, and for us, throughout our lives.

The twisting and turning of the joints, the bending and straining of the back and neck and arms and legs and hands and feet, speaks to me of my capacity to strive for a wider context, a depth of meaning, and an acceptance of not having all of the answers.

I move my foot from its right angle and use it purposefully to walk towards the bar…… now, can I remember what I have been asked to provide my friends with …. oh yes, three pints of bitter, one dry white wine, a diet coke (no ice) and a rum and black.

My next blog will be : Territorial Ducks

William Defoe

 

*A micro-pub is usually a small space with a well stocked bar of real ales with limited seating. They are modern, light and look like shop fronts from the outside, rather than a traditional public house.

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