SOUL MUD: Random Ramblings of my 24/7 Brain

I can’t get the image out of my head - all the empty shoes on the White House lawn.   It is a constant in my waking hours and haunting my sleep.   http://time.com/5198721/capitol-gun-death-protest-shoes/ Why hasn't this caused more of a stirring?    Shoes are life.   They represent the journey, the travels, the destinations of their owners.   They stretch to fit; they confirm to a person’s shape.   They carry dust from where you’ve been and point in the direction of the future.   It seems as though a great sadness settles into the shoes that will never again be worn by their owner.          SHOES by Autumn Boyet Stinton (3/16/2018)   Donned to protect the “souls” of my feet Directing me forward to those I will meet.   Conforming and stretching to fit me just right Responsible to be not too loose or too tight.   Able to fit any mood, any style, any need Propelled from my past, to my future you lead.   A shoe must be filled to know

We are becoming all too familiar with and desensitized to grotesque examples of bigotry, dogmatism, greed, racism, sexism, prejudice, fanaticism, intolerance, narrow-mindedness and shameful ignorance.   It happens daily and in ways that leave many, mouths agape, in disbelief.   This abhorrent behavior is a poison that is corrupting our nation.   Worse yet, it is the man currently holding the seat of President of the United States* that is consciously handing out this sugar flavored poison to the masses with one hand and slyly coaxing the repugnant and loathsome from the shadows into the safety of his arms with the other.   It is despicable and nauseating.   I find that I am no longer shocked at the incredible amount of disrespect that Mr. Trump shows toward the American people as the human race as a whole.   It is difficult to imagine anyone deserving a more harsh judgment than what he will undoubtedly receive.   But, I present for your consideration the “ignorer of the iniquitous” an

A couple seasons ago, (September 19 th , 2015 to be exact), I experienced a communing with nature amidst an aspen grove in the Indian Peaks Wilderness of north central Colorado that changed me.   That experience resides in my cognizance and seems to have embedded into my consciousness.   I find that I toss the anamnesis of the moment around my awareness frequently.   My retrospection is sometimes intentional and guided by intent.   Other times, it is more of a shadow reminiscence that seeps into my dreams and subconscious.   Regardless of how, it is evident that I was and still am affected.   I find at times, my mind lulls and enjoys savoring the recollection as one would savor a decadent treat.   It is fleeting mind-candy that I can almost feel spark in my soul and bubble effervescently on my skin.   To recall is to indulge… Maybe the ambient conditions were perfectly in line with the energy of the universe.   Maybe my attempts to restructure and learn who I wa