reat shoes are very me. I like high heels in particular, though not when they're impractical. But in the right setting, a wedge, a stiletto, a pump are all highly satisfying. I'm tall, and with heels, I don't mind being even taller. I like sashaying down the street. I like not having to look up so much.

At the Abode, where Suluk is held, and at the homes of Sufi friends or those with Buddhist or even hippie tendencies, I often find myself at the mercy of a strictly no-shoe policy. What is the idea, really? To not track dirt in? To put us all on the same level? To show respect for a holy place?

I don't mind, really, but I seldom feel satisfied when I take my shoes off at a door. I don't feel like it makes me any more pious. I feel like it makes me less me. When I remove my shoes out of love, such as at a dargah (Sufi tomb/shrine), it's a very different feeling than removing them out of obligation (crunchy dinner party). Because with the latter, the part of myself that loves my shoes and is proud to wear them still exists when the shoes are off, and I feel incomplete without them. It's only with the former that I can freely feel flat-footed.

So when you come to my house, I want you to be you. Remove your shoes if you wish, but if you don't, bring me in some dirt and sand and mud. Bring me in some things from this earth. I want to see you fully outfitted, raised up as high as you want to be.