Rubber Boot In-sight

for wiping off the scum

The Story

I am never the type to openly advocate living life with caution. Far from it. I like to think of life as meant for wild abandon. But there is also strategy involved in this thing called life. This in-sight is a matter of honoring the value of choosing and seeing smart in a way that allows for us to more easily wipe off the scum and break free. So let’s dive right in.

The In-sight

You are a pair of cream-colored shoes. You can choose to be either cloth, leather, or rubber.

At first, you choose to be amazing, sexy satin strappy heels. You step out in the rain. Encounter mud. Oops. Not cream-colored any more. 

You try on some great sneakers. You rock those kicks. But, yeah. You go out once. Burnt sienna.

Then, you go for some amazing calf-high leather boots. One awesome rodeo, and they're toast.

This analogy could go on forever, to describe all of our trials in life and relationships, our try and try agains, all lessons that sucked but had to be learned.

Then you check the weather. Rain again. Good ol' rubber boots beckon. Nice, bright, and nearly white. But they're cute too. They hint at adventures to be had. You mount that motorcycle, rev it up, and take off, spraying mud everywhere, including on your boots. But at your destination, you take a hand - yes, you're tough, so a hand - and wipe that mud right off. Cream again, with cute little flecks of glitter mixed in. That is your visual, with or without the sparkle. Someone gets under your skin, schwipe. Your job sucks. Schlop. Take that mud off. You are gleaming underneath, just waiting for your time. Like now. 

Variations, Tips, and Possibilities

• In spring, my horses molt. Winter into spring, I eat hair daily. Big wads of fuzz come off every time I barely even touch them, and I am a cuddler and a snuggler, so you can only imagine how big of a mouthful I receive. But I do not mind. I love them, of course, so there’s that. Nothing will get in the way of my cuddles. But there’s also the fact that, once they shed their winter coats, they look glorious. I do not mind the fuzzy winter coats they acquire. They serve their purpose. But, especially with my buckskin boy, when his grayish fuzz-coat molts off in bits and clumps, underneath is a glistening, goldy, gleaming body of warmth, full of the promise of summer and spring. So, here is your visual. You brush your coat, and there your clump goes. Another stroke with the curry, another waffle falls to the ground. Then you see it - the gold. Little flecks, now more. You’re starting to shine through. Now you’re glowing. Now you’re Atlas. You’re beautiful, gray clumps of fur all around you on the ground. Step on them. You’re over them. They’ve served their purpose. Now, you are gold.