Those Are Stupid Shoes

“A dream come true

From way back when

We remember

Then forget again

Just for a while

Then recall somehow

We're all here in the sacred now…” Iris Dement, The Sacred Now

Oh, Iris. 

     Dement’s voice is haunting, sorrowful, tender, and deep; a trill that leaves most listeners in tears and retrospection. Her voice mixed with the creeks and shifts of the Stoughton Opera House took me far away to a time when I first met “Lodi” Iris. As one Iris sang of the delicacy and shaky balance of being present in our lives another Iris from my past came back to say hello. 

     This youthful Iridaceae was around 10 years old. She was as lithe and lean and muscled as a brand-new fawn with hair tangled and flying wild and free well past her tush. She had a thin layer of dust and sand shimmering from all areas of her body exposed to the sun and I was amazed at how her tiny legs were able to run and navigate the heavy, deeply loved, and worn Ariats with ease.  Her adorable freckles teased her taciturn glare in conflict as she looked me up and down  - it was going to be her job to watch over me for the next few hours and I knew she was annoyed with her new job description. 

     I was just beginning to date my now husband and he invited me to his family’s farm for the weekend. This almost 600-acre Lodi property was going to be the home for a St. Jude’s Hospital fundraiser and host hundreds and hundreds of horses and trailers, auctioneers, and other events for a full three days. Before the weekend arrived my “date” had asked me if I was comfortable around horses; of course I was. I mean I had books on horses, I wrote poetry about horses and I thought they were beautiful. I also rode a horse at summer camp. I was a professional! Because I was such a professional I was handed over to a 10-year-old cowgirl who could have picked me up with one of her taut biceps and probably string me up like cattle in a roundup in no time flat!  After Iris finished the analysis of her soon-to-be responsibility she looked at her mom with a side eye that begged, don’t make me do this. Then she took my hand, looked at my feet, and pointed, “Those are stupid shoes.” 

     They were stupid. I wore flip-flops to a trail ride.

Iris yanked me hard and led me to her trailer where she found a perfect size 7 boot,  stuck my feet in them, and then proceeded to take me on one of the best adventures I ever had. 

     I miss Iris and think about her often. Since her babysitting job in Lodi, she has continued to give the world what for! She is a force with whom to be reckoned and still wildly gorgeous. 

    Back to Stoughton. 

    I sat in the newly cushioned seats of the opera house, tears streaming down my face, and thought about purpose as singer-songwriter Iris sang about the now. Every human is unique albeit continuously connected by the same need for our why. We all teeter between what we once knew and what we know; between the person we used to be and the person we have become. We dig in the dirt every day to find the answers to our questions and the quiet to our fear.

     I do know that for me I must go backwards in order to move ahead. The other morning I was mumbling beneath my breath with a growl here and a sigh there and I spurted (I assumed privately),

 “Man, I hold onto things!” Then I heard,

“You think?!”  loudly in retort from the next room. My husband quickly peeked around the doorway with that sweet, guilty smile and my favorite shrug. 

     Within the daily struggle to get unstuck and find our version of the Sacred Now is an answer - find an Iris, take off your stupid shoes, and lift one leg at a time, preferably in the forward direction!!

Photo by Tim Mossholder