Fingerprints and footprints, as we all know, are one thing that can identify us because there are no two prints that are the same. Six billion people means six billion different prints. Astonishing isn’t it? We have only a few different hair colors, hair textures, eye colors and skin shades but there are billions of options when it comes to human prints. Now this begs the question as to whether that number is actually infinite, but you can ponder that one on your own.
I took this photograph in Mexico while on holiday. I love, love, love Mexico! That is a subject for later however, tangents can be fun memory trips. I was walking up some steps near the beach, which is why the steps were covered in sand. As usual, I had camera in hand and my eyes were wandering and looking for the next photo opportunity. When I looked down to find the hidden steps so I wouldn’t trip, I saw the footprints and thought how amazing they were. Tennis shoes of different types and bare feet of different sizes all so perfectly presented. Each print was perfectly discernible but yet they overlapped in the most striking way. When I got the photograph back, I started to wonder about the people to whom those prints belonged. Admittedly, at the time I was more interested in my next cerveza so pondering the prints then, was way too complicated.
Which brings up the question now (after another obvious tangent) of who are you and me for that matter? Our prints belong to us and cannot be changed. Yet, I think people have the tendency, definitely the ability and sometimes just a strange desire to present themselves as who they are not but who we think they should be. These prints represent people. People I never saw and people I can’t even imagine. They could have been locals or tourists, men or women, girls or boys or all of the above. I can only let my imagination run wild as to whom these prints belong and who these people really are. But you can know someone for a long time but even then, can we really know a person? Had I found the owners of these prints could I have looked at them and known who they are as individuals just from the physical appearance?
Sometimes I question my intuition, not always, but sometimes. Recently a couple things came up in my life that really made me question my intuition. Something was telling me my impression was wrong but emotions and feelings seemed to corrupt my reaction to listening to my intuition. Why do we deny our instincts when they are absolutely screaming at us? I had an impression of someone in my life that I thought was dead on. I thought the footprints were obvious, naked and hid nothing. I was wrong. The shoes that were worn presented what the wearer wanted me to see. The evasiveness that I see now plain as day was brushed aside by my feelings, while my intuition was just blaring in the back of my skull, and I simply didn’t listen. My impression was based on what was presented to me and intuition was saying, “honey, something is off, way off.”
Admittedly, when I meet someone for the first time, my tendency is to look at his or her shoes. They reveal everything!! They make a much better first impression, well truer impression, than the face that is before me at eye level. Scuffed shoes means the person doesn’t care about the details. Old shoes means the person could be lazy or doesn’t care. New shoes that are obviously uncomfortable can mean a person who cares about how they look but is perhaps shallow or a person who cares how they look and will just plain suffer for fashion. I’ll fall into that last category quite often admittedly. Tennis shoes are not in my vocabulary. Oddly, this shoe discussion has come up four times in the past four days.
There are many things we do or wear that reveal who we really are and then there is that mask we wear to hide who we think we are. That mask may even change according to mood, the person we are with or who we think we are supposed to be at any given time. It is very sad I think. I’m guilty of it likely because of personal insecurities. Is it the same for everyone? I certainly don’t know and neither do I want to presume.
So, what do I know now? I like tangents. Seriously, though, those footprints from the photograph are definitely long gone. I have woken up and plainly heard my intuition. I’m sure I will not listen to it again in the future more than once. The plans in regards to what my intuition was warning me about have not yet come to fruition and most of all, my shoes will always be uncomfortable and highly fashionable.