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For a long time I never even considered leaving the house without shoes. I loved being barefoot inside, but the appeal of a barefoot walk in the great outdoors was lost on me. I mean, who knows what could happen to your feet out there?

I used to worry about horrible dangers lurking just inches away from my naked foot skin. Like what? Glad you asked.

Let’s say you’re walking (recklessly barefoot) through your backyard when you unknowingly step onto a mole tunnel. Poof! Your entire foot disappears into a subterranean world of savagery. Alerted by the sweet smell of a human foot, moles come shuffling at you through the black earth. They sink their evil mole teeth deep into your foot flesh as you howl in pain. Yanking your foot from the ground, you start kicking off moles as they desperately try to suck out all of your foot blood.

But! As you flail in agony, you stomp directly onto the shredded remains of a rusty old soup can, lacerating your tender heel. As new waves of pain wash over your bare feet, you stumble back towards the house – but what’s this?! The yard is suddenly strewn with other people’s used Band-Aids! And it’s too late. Your feet are completely covered in sticky, old, discolored bandages (and blood-crazed moles).

You somehow remain upright, tripping towards your back door, when you step directly into a pile of dog crap left by your neighbor's thoughtless labradoodle, and oh no! Now you‘ve also stepped onto a pile of South America botfly larvae, which instantly begin to burrow (hungrily) into your bloodied skin.

You whip out your phone to call a loved one for help when out of nowhere a cinderblock falls onto your toes and then you stumble into that weasel trap you totally forgot about.

You whip out your phone to call a loved one for help when out of nowhere a cinderblock falls onto your toes and then you stumble into that weasel trap you totally forgot about. As the razor sharp metal teeth gnash at your tender Achilles tendon and boney ankles, you begin to black out, using your last flutter of consciousness to curse the day you hadn’t worn sneakers outside.

I no longer worry about things like that. How did I get over these barefoot nightmares? It started with buying a pair of sandals – footwear that had previously represented a novel adventure into the unknown. Sandals were my gateway drug to the addictive euphoria of going barefoot. More and more, I started taking my sandals off whenever I could. Eventually, I just went outside barefoot. And it’s great.

I know many of you agree. But many of you probably think this is just crazy talk. Going barefoot may have been good enough for that one crazy guy in your required philosophy course back in college, but not you, right? Well, if you don’t mind getting your feet a little dirty (and you shouldn’t) I’m betting you’ll think going barefoot is pretty great, too. You just need to give it a chance.

A thousand dirty hippies can’t be wrong.

There are some who’ve studied what happens to your body when walking (and running) barefoot and tout the benefits to your foot strength/health and overall balance. Other researchers have seen health advantages such as increasing antioxidants, reducing inflammation, and improving sleep. And still others claim that direct exposure to electrons found in the earth has its own health benefits.  

I know all this talk of foot strength, inflammation reduction, and electron transference makes walking barefoot sound pretty sexy, but for me, it’s just a feeling. I like how it feels.

Here’s one thing I like to do. I go outside barefoot and just feel the ground. I feel the grass, the dirt, the sand, the rocks, the whatever. I set my feet shoulder-width apart in the “ready stance” I learned back in high school football (this is the only thing I remember from high school football). I take a breath and feel my own weight pushing my feet down against the earth. I imagine seeing myself from space, standing on top of our little blue planet. I rock side to side a bit, feeling the connection between the wizardry of gravity and my own body. Suddenly I can feel my place in the world. I am solid. I am here.

I don’t care if that sounds all weird and New Agey – I like doing it. I’m not wearing a crystal necklace and I’m not thinking about my chakras or anything. I’m just feeling something I’ve spent most of my life ignoring.

And while I do that, I keep an eye out for rogue weasel traps.