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The Shoestring Redemption

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Shoes are a unique compliment to one’s feet. They protect our partners in transportation while simultaneously giving them a sense of comfort. Before the invention of these cloth bound carriers, we had to endure the harsh heat of the summer sun burning away our soles or feel the unpleasant sensation of a frostbitten winter evening. But now, glancing down upon the shining star achievement of man, I Realized that they are a double edged sword. They do have one weakness.

I discovered this weakness while treading dangerously upon a speeding Treadmill. As my eyes watched the colorful glow of a well animated Netflix series, my feet bounded off of the constantly revolving pathway. Sweat dripped from my brow as I tried to push myself past my perceived limit. With each hard landing my heart slammed against the inside of my chest. It felt good.

Air flooded in and out of my weary lungs as I continued my energetic endeavor when I suddenly felt something suspicious. If it weren’t for my extremely keen sense of observation, I would have fallen to my doom. My feet were slowly drifting away from their sole mates, and the slithering serpents were escaping from their designated caverns.

My eyes glanced down and realized that my well calculated loops I tied were slowly unraveling before me. I stopped the treadmill and panted as I bent down to fix the problem. My fingers gently caressed the dark strings until I felt the need to firmly tug them back into place. On any normal day, they would have complied and tangled themselves in a gentle web of embrace, but this was not a normal day.

Within seconds the serpent decided to escape from its former partner and run off in an audible snap. It was an escaping fashion hydra with nowhere to run. What a sneaky little shoestring, I thought to myself as I observed it in the light. It no longer wanted to be part of my foot laden vessel and instead wanted to venture off into the soft carpeted landscape below. Well, I guess I had no use for it then, I thought to myself as I slowly walked away. The other strings will pay for your insolence, I sneered.

I could feel the other writhing tentacles pleading for mercy as I tore them away from their comfortable homes. There was an odd satisfaction in seeing the discarded fragments of two frayed strings lying still on the ground next to the gutted remains of my shoes. Now, to find a replacement.

My eyes wandered around the room until I happened to see a discarded pair on my back porch. Perfect. With a gentle suggestion I unwound the dirty tenants from their equally messy homestead. They were covered in little specks of grass, but they were easy to clean. Every swipe of my hand across the shoestrings made them a little darker, until the pitch black tones revealed themselves. These strings matched perfectly, I thought to myself as I introduced them to their new home.

Feeding the soft serpents through the proper holes had a cathartic effect I didn't foresee. They softly overlapped each other, and with a tug, tightened into a functional piece of string. Progress was quickly made as I watched in awe at my handiwork. My hands were like dancers, twirling the strings around like ballerinas in a beautiful ballet. With each passing moment, I could hear music accompanying the wonderful dance the shoestrings and I were performing. It was magical.

The soft glide of the cloth contrasted with the hard, plastic end made for a delicate and intrinsically spectacular endeavor. Soon, I finished each shoe and relaxed, looking at the art I had just created. With just two hands and two strings, I was able to save myself from disaster. Instead of falling hard to my face upon the unrelenting pace of an electric treadmill, I learned a new art form.

Tying shoes isn't all about function. Surely it was created for a brief and noble purpose, but there is more behind the layers of string than meets the eye. To most people, it is seen as an unnecessary and mundane affair, and on any other day I would have agreed. But the day my string abandoned me, I realized something.

There is an art in any activity if you take the time to appreciate it. In this case, the art was good for my sole.

This post first appeared on Life Through The Lens Of Levity, please read the originial post: here

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The Shoestring Redemption


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