There’s something beautiful about a boot at rest. The relaxing of the leather. Even as the lace falls to the side, I can hear the sigh of relief. Was it a job well done? Or simply a break, a breath, before beginning again. From the wearing of the tongue and heel, probably both. 

And I don’t know if it sees me, watching. Does it mistake my admiration for judgement? Is it worried about the dirt that has worked its way into every crevasse? Embarrassed by the toe that clearly has been stubbed repeatedly? All the missteps so on display… If that sounds funny to you, even a little crazy, then good! Because if you think it’s possible for me to see the beauty in the worn and weary boot, and not you, then I’m not conveying the proper message. 

You have to know it makes you interesting, the work and wear of living. I’m not going to paint the boots straight from the box. I want the story. I’m looking for the heart. I hope you can feel it. Indulge me for just a moment. Allow yourself to breathe with the ease of this dangling lace. This lace that has let go. Completely. And if you can do that — just breathe — if you can permit all of your imperfections, and mine, to be part of the beauty, then maybe, maybe joyfully, we will have the strength to continue this beautiful work. From tongue to heel, from tongue to heal, I say that we can.