Pak: Nature Lover & Barefooter! 👣

A Walk

Pak was the sort of guy who was nice, plenty agreeable, and met people where they where at. And he expected others to treat him the same.

After years of living life freely and for himself, he learned a bit of charisma, and used his upbeat outlook to get others to warm up to him.

This sort of confidence was exactly what Pak needed, as without it, he'd be in danger of being seen as an outcast or weirdo. His quirks and habits, such as obsessive collecting of objects he founds on walks, lack of organization, flakiness, and refusal to wear shoes and socks, often make new aquaintinces hesitant to get to know him. But they also filter out the kinds of people who get hung up on such things.

Today was a day like many others for Pak. The familiar neighborhood passed around him absently as he whistled and walked with his hands in the pockets of his red shorts. The white sidewalk warmed his soles with every step, but he was eager to get to the park, where he could walk on natural terrain. After about ten minutes, he had left behind the densest part of the suburb and arrived at the forest park, slumped with small hills, overgrown grass, rocky creeks, and the small wooden bridges that go over them.

When there was no longer any houses or people in sight, Pak closed his eyes and faced his head up towards the warm sun, feeling it's heat on his skin competing against the breeze coming from under the trees. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with fresh air and the smells of grass and earth. He clenched his toes tightly into the sun-baked soil beneath him, feeling the thin, dry top-layer crumble, giving way to the moister, muddier dirt beneath. He splayed and unsplayed his bare toes, wriggling them and feeling the earth stick to and peel off his skin gently each time, the sweat briefly connecting his natural human body directly to mother nature around him.

Pak opened his eyes and walked down to the grassy banks of the creek, shaded by the evergreens on the hills that flanked it. He paid close attention to the drop in temperature, changes in acoustics, and smell of the water running over the rocks.

Pak had once been put off by this sort of meditation-on-nature type of behavior. He thought it was too vague, too New Age, something only weirdos would take seriously. But as he got older, Pak became less concerned with what was cool and serious, and more interested in what fulfilled him, regardless of others' judgement. And the result before him now was quite fulfilling indeed. He didn't care really who saw him or how he seemed, he just felt alive in the world. His brown hair wasn't brushed, his outfit wasn't stylish. But the wind was in that hair of his instead, and the grass under his feet was a hundred times more real than any overpriced stuffy pair of sneakers.

Finally, Pak sat down, legs crossed, and meditated at the edge of the creek, listening to his breathing and the trickle of the water. He picked up the birds in the trees, the white noise of cars in the distance, a jogger and their dog on the outskirts of the park, and then returned to focus on his heartbeat and breath. Many minutes passed, and rather than let himself grow sleepy, Pak opened his eyes again.

He picked at the blades of grass somewhat mindlessly until he saw a touch of movement in the corner of his vision. Moving his eye, he focused in on it, a small speck against his skin. Upon closer inspection he noticed it was an ant who had crawled up some grass, across his ankle, and now was descending his sole. Pak knelt his head down right up close to the ant.

"You looking for something salty, little guy?" He asked, watching as it navigated the fingerprint-like contour lines of his skin. The ant felt around at the tiny glistening beads of sweat, unaware of the godlike human he was impeding upon.
Pak lifted up the round tip of his pointer finger to the tender sole of his foot, and pressing the digit deep into it, whispered, "May you find what you need in your next life."

After holding a few seconds to make sure the tiny creature was no more, Pak removed his finger and inspected the black splotch, all that remained of the life that had just met it's end on the underside of his bare foot. As a believer in fate, Pak had accepted that the little critters people sometimes stepped on or crushed met their ends when they were supposed to. And as a believer in reincarnation, Pak took solace in the hope that his stepping and crushing helped his little friends progress to a better stage, hopefully as a more advanced creature than a bug. This acceptance of the circle of life brought him peace with suffering in the world, and these moments in nature were the greatest teachers of that lesson.

Pak stood up and stretched his arms up high to the sky with a yawn to shake off his mellow vibe. Feeling just a twinge of guilt about smothering his ant friend, he decided to quickly give the little guy (or what remained of him) a proper burial in the earth. Pak hopped, one legged, over to a grassless patch of wet soil in the shade and stomped down into it. He rubbed the ball of his foot side to side like he was rubbing out a lit cigarette butt. After he felt like he'd probably rubbed most of the ant off, he lifted his leg up, looming over the new footprint-shaped grave. Pak inspected his sole to make sure he'd gotten the tiny creature off, and was a bit dismayed that he couldn't tell for sure whether or not he had succeeded. The grinding motion of stomping out a little resting place had caked a layer of dirt onto Pak's foot.

Now normally, Pak didn't mind having filthy feet. It was sort of part of his barefooter lifestyle sometimes. But Pak's dad didn't seem to enjoy cleaning his son's dirty footprints off the hardwood floor more often than necessary. So Pak decided to wade into the creek, at least up until he was ankle deep. Doing so, he noticed the amazing sensation of the water rushing over his skin. He lifted his dirty foot about an inch so the water could lap against his sole. As it did so, it picked up the dirt, soil, and debris off of it and whisked it down stream. He placed his foot back down and crunched and curled his toes, making sure the water got between every one of them. Pak thought about the rain and snow that fed the creek, it's path down from the hills, through the park and out eventually to the bay. He thought about the water now massaging his feet, and the water inside his body, how many times it had cycled through the water cycle on earth since it first arrived on ancient asteroids. He thought of the Jurassic jungles it had nurtured, the glaciers it had been locked in, it's place with him now, and it's infinite possibilities going forward. The animals who drink from this creek don't know or care whether a drop of water came from the clouds in the sky, the snow of the mountains, or the sweat of a human's feet. These are the thoughts that, while others dismissed as useless and strange, Pak considered special and dear to him. They brought him fulfillment and fueled his desire to always be grounded to the earth, connecting his skin to mother nature's.

(Let me know if you want more, I'm happy to do more if there's interest)