SOUL MUD: Random Ramblings of my 24/7 Brain

  What comes to mind when you hear the phrase “Small Town America?”   Do you envision a close-knit community that endeavors to build each other up?   Do you long for the slower pace and welcoming sense of belonging that the phrase conjures up?   Do you imagine a sense of belonging that comes from knowing everyone’s name and never doubting that your family extends outside your immediate relatives to the whole community? If only….Oh, the wonders of our imaginations and what we are able to create in our own minds.  To be honest, many days I find myself yearning for a slower pace – a life away from the hustle and bustle of big city dwelling.   However, if you were to glimpse me today, as I sit in my high-rise office building in the metropolis of Denver, Co, I am quite certain you would feel the wrath that is consuming me as I contemplate the mire that a dear friend finds herself in the midst of her “Small Town America” community.   I don’t doubt that you might even see steam rol

Muse n.   Any of the nine sister goddesses in Greek mythology presiding over song and poetry and the arts and sciences; a source of inspiration, especially a guiding genius for a creative artist; a spirit or source that inspires an artist.   v.   To consider something thoughtfully; to think about something carefully and for a long time.   I’m all too aware of the fleeting nature of inspiration and the frustration of feeling uninspired.   I work to cultivate acceptance of inspiration as it comes, in a flood and ebb flow, knowing it can’t be forced or simply called upon.   But, is that really the truth?   Are we at the mercy of inspiration’s own wiles?   I’m not sure that is the case.   Admittedly, I’ve fallen victim to the conceit of thinking inspiration comes from a place within me.   That same belief has at times stunted me creatively when my internal well is dry.   But this is where the word muse comes into play, (and I most certainly mean “play” literally).   Gr

The past 48 hours have been traumatic and emotionally challenging to say the least.   The election has left my head thick and I have a feeling, a weight that I’ve been unable to identify and it is unsettling.   I understand that the democratic system that is in place in the country that I love has elected a President.   I cherish the freedoms I have to express my thoughts and opinion and therefore I respect that there are opinion that differ from mine and I understand that these differences are what make us great.   But there is a lingering weight that continues to bears down on me and I have been uncertain how to identify exactly what it is and therefore, I have been at a loss as to how to deal with it.     But, this morning, it hit me.   I am grief stricken.   I am grieving - mourning a loss.    I can only speak for myself here, and as much as I would like to offer an explanation for and defend others whom I assume may be feeling the same way, I will refrain from doing so and a

It has been a rough election.  From the very beginning, it seemed surreal - like we were watching reality TV at its best - or maybe worst since it was more than TV - it was our reality.  The campaigning was vicious and the conflict was non-stop.  The debates were so unreal that it was almost comical until you stopped for a moment and realized that it wasn't just entertainment, it was the bid for the greatest honor in our country - The President of the United States of America.  (As I type that last sentence out, I can't help but think how ironic the word "United" is as we are anything but a united society at this moment. - But I digress.) As the race for the White House went, I found that I was interested and began watching the debates and speeches in hopes that I would gain insights into what was going on.  But, eventually, in every instance, I would be so disgusted and overwhelmed that I would stop watching and retreat to a book in an attempt to block out the ugli

  In my 40th year of life, as many things seemed to unravel around my feet, I had reason to pause and think about me.  Who am I really.  I started seeing an amazing coach/therapist/guide that I have really connected with.  One of the first things that she told me was that our personality types aren't necessarily who we really are, but can be the barrier and protection that we build to keep our most sacred and intimate parts of ourselves safe.  That rang true to me - for various reasons, but primarily because I was at a point in my life where I was feeling lost - lost to myself.  I wasn't sure who I was anymore.  I was feeling overwhelmed by being underwhelmed.  I felt adrift and for the first time in my life, very uncertain about who I was.  I felt like there was a place in me that was cool, dark, calm cavernous and peaceful that was just our of reach.  And so my quest began...Who am I today?