10 Aug 2016

Tired feet

I decided I needed a little self-pampering, it’s been so long since I had some “me time”. It felt wonderful sitting in that comfortable recliner having my toes manicured and my feet massaged, I was asked if I was comfortable, I was asked if I would like a coffee. Just as my eyes were adjusting to all the luxury, the glossy furnishing, the tranquil fake waterfalls, the floating lilies, the sound of calm music, my sight falls on the muted plasma screen at the far end of the spa, the red news ribbon and black text hurried in the bottom of the screen, people dying because of hate, people dying because of racism, people dying in mindless, meaningless wars, violence and terrorism. So many bombs, so much suffering, loss and homelessness. I felt small, ashamed, disconnected, shallow, irrelevant, naïve. I turned my eyes down to my tired feet, felt the beating of my tired heart.