How dear you are to this world,
you must never forget.
How days cannot be
as they should be
without you.
Keep stepping.
Categories
Keep Stepping
Tag: Art
Every spare moment I have is spent drawing. It is an obsession. An itch that will not go away, no matter how vigorously I scratch it.
It is all a great mystery, this creative road I travel. Art has been the little sister to music and writing, all my life. Suddenly she yearns to be seen, known and expanded upon.
I have loved being with her.
Every moment, she takes me on a sacred journey, home again: and in such a different way to writing, which I’d previously identified as ‘my thing.’
I cannot call myself an artist, though. It is a block I’m unable to identify, and yet, it is a block that feels familiar.
Years ago, the voice within asked me to write poetry. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t because I didn’t know the rules. And because I didn’t know the rules, I would likely do it wrong.
‘Doing it wrong’ was not something I felt comfortable with. Until one day I wrote, with an open heart, something that looked and felt like poetry…no rules attached. No standard to meet.
I just wrote.
I wrote: me.
I now must take the same journey with my art. I must remove any worries of not doing it ‘the right way’ and simply do it my way.
I need to draw with my soul.
Goodnight.
xx. Brooke
Categories
Pure Bliss
It is a softness that becomes me, and I am gone.
Lately I am understanding more and more about this mysterious creative force that takes me, and yet, truly, I understand nothing. I know it uses me in ways I cannot comprehend. I know it takes my body and dances me.
Makes me write, makes me draw, makes me love.
It is Devine.
It moves within me, like the wind.
I saw the new Avatar movie, recently. It made me smile, because I recognised me. A girl who feels the world, who knows the earth, who breathes its song.
I suffer greatly for my sensitivity, at times, but it is also my greatest gift. My sweetest home.
To create is to live a life of pure bliss.
I cherish this soft, sweet wind.
Categories
She Drifts, Again
It really did seem like the perfect plan.
And so I did it.
I set up an official page on instagram to act as the much longed for social media home of ‘The Little Blog of Everything’ and all things creatively me.
My goodness, it will be lovely to share an expanded version of ‘the creative journey of me’ with you.
There’ll be drawings and art.
No doubt, music and books.
There’ll be updates on life and the journey to picture book publishing I’ve just restarted, after baby.
My name on instagram is brookecutlercreative.
See you, there, my beautiful bloggy friends.
Or just, here. I’ll still be here, too. xx
May they find the hours
of my love for them
strewn upon these coloured pages.
May their names shine with my love,
and may their eyes light
with the truth of all they are.
May these hours,
and these pages dear,
show my children that love is pure
beyond thinking.
Love is…
love
is.
Categories
The River I Am
The river I am.
I fall in love with the next creative thing,
and there I stay for a while (but not forever.)
When I create, I flow, I cannot be boxed.
I am sometimes a writer. Sometimes a musician. Sometimes a painter. Sometimes a poet.
But I am never just one thing, not for too long.
I am the river I am.
Always drifting, always changing.
Not neat and tidy (how hard it is for them to understand.)
Just the river I am the river I am.
The river I am.
I lay in bed last night, at 4am, thinking of the tortured artist, thing.
We feel so deeply, us creative folk, and therefore, we capture the world in its fullest expression.
Which is beautiful. Really, ice-shatteringly beautiful.
But we are often not understood, at best. And at worst…we are grossly misunderstood, usually by the logically minded folk of the world, who do not (perhaps cannot) see the world the way we do.
Sometimes we are judged as weak, overly sensitive; irresponsible, messy. A lonely human, this does make, at times.
A lonely human this does make, at times.
I remember sitting at my piano as a nineteen year old, feeling the world in all its depth; the beauty of the autumn leaves outside the window, a huge comfort as I sat and wondered about my place in the world.
These creative eyes.
They make everything a little more beautiful. A little more horrible. A little more alive.
I’m grateful, for them, I am.
I’d imagine all the tortured artists out there were grateful, even the ones who battled to a sometimes tragic end.
Misunderstood, they were, and a little bit lonely, maybe.
A little bit scared of the depths that dragged them beneath the surface, on occasion, maybe.
Especially at 4am, and the very next day.
Here we are, world.
Another day of co-creation.
I do not own you.
You do not own me.
And yet we are one
becoming many
through each moment,
each hour,
each breath held
or released
in the face of it all.
I am
the same breath
as my art.
Categories
My Contribution
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I keep my distance from the news.
I have to, because the moment I face the full ache of this thing, I feel the pain of the entire world. Already, I’ve felt the fear of the dying and the sorrow of their loved ones. I’ve intuited the secret shame of the many humans walking the earth who are afraid that they will be next. (It’s okay to be afraid, by the way. You already know that, though, don’t you. )
Anyway, I’ve felt it all, and…I’ve felt helpless, quite frankly— especially since I’ve been wallowing in a pit of my own selfish pain for quite some time now. Because life (all of it, the whole joyful ache) still happens, even when there is a monster on the loose.
So I zoom right out, and I really look at it all.
What can I do about all these aches everywhere? All the lonely people. All the fearful people. All the dying.
Guys. I know what I can do.
I can write.
With all my heart I can write, with all my days, I can write. For you— for anyone that needs something more than what they have—until there is some relief in sight. Until we are all able to live fully and wholly for ourselves again.
I can’t cure this disease (omg, lol, no ha ha ha) nor can I erase the ache of a world in despair.
But I have lived. And I can write.
And so I will write.
Over the coming weeks, I will do my very best to show up here every day, and often, with new life, new breath, new feeling…just because I know that it is right.
I know that it is right.
So get ready to live it all through me. Love. Heartache. Tenderness. Humanity. Peace. Fire. Sex. Sensuality. Softness. Community. Spirit. Sunshine. LIFE.
Everything. All of it.
Because that’s what this place was always meant to be:
The Little Blog of Everything.
With all that said…let’s kick this virus in the butt with all the bloggy goodness.
Just because we can.
So much love, bloggy family. I may, or may not, love you all dearly. (Oh, okay. You’ve got me. I so completely do. 🙂 )
xx Brooke
brooke-cutler.com 