Categories
Writing

Purpose

I’ve tried all the angles. I’ve felt all the rights and wrongs about what they say a writer should do, should be, should want…but I’m not like them.

I want barely any of what they tell me I should want.

To write from my heart, that is what I want.

To touch other hearts, I want that, too.

To shine so that others might know what it is like to shine on the other end of my words: I want that, more than anything else. Life is for dreaming and being the sweet dreams that we are.

I’ve tried to write for money: it leaves me empty.

I’ve tried to write any old thing: it leaves me tired, frustrated, hungry.

To share the depths of my soul is what I am here to do.

To connect with others at the level of the heart.

I want that.

I want that.

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Categories
Life

14 Days

It has been fourteen days and the wind has brought me here.

What happened was quite accidental (but then, is anything ever accidental in the universe?) Rather than my plan expiring as I thought it was going to (for reasons long and complicated) it has rolled over for another year.

For a moment, when the ghastly realisation was made, I thought to approach wordpress and tell them, ‘Thank you, but I’m done, here.’

I never did do that. I never did pick up the phone.

I put this down to orders of the wind. The sway of the universe whispering me to stay just a little while longer. So, here I am, writing these words–half wondering why, half quite sure that there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

Why is it that there are so many segments of us, and why is it that not all segments of us want equally?

Some pieces of me want to be heard, to be known, to be understood and validated by like minded souls who feel a little like they’re swimming around in the ever spinning washing machine of life. Other parts of me want to hide. To never be seen. To only be known by the quiet that surrounds me, the quiet that I am.

I know I must write to experience myself truly.

I know I must create in order to find home.

What else do I know?

I know I’ll always be asking questions that make me feel a little lonely.

I know I’ll always think I know the answers until I, once and for all, understand that there is no one answer. Only the next question, the next step, the next choice.

The wind has brought me here.

And here, in this moment, I am.

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Categories
Life

Awake

Sweet bloggy friends. ☺️

How are you all? Well, I hope, and if not: that’s okay, too, because even rain is beautiful when you look at it a certain way.

I’m so sleepy but I wanted to say hello. I’ve been a little disconnected from here of late, and though most of you may not have noticed, it’s been weighing on my mind. There are some busy, happy reasons for my disconnection, which I’ll share over the coming months, but for now I’ll just say this:

I’m here when I am, and I’m not when I’m not. (Those of you who’ve been with me a while will know I’m a bit like the wind. Full on one day, not so much the next. This is a bit of a quiet season, I think. I hope that’s okay with you all. xx)

Anyway, I’m about to fall aslee…

Sorry, where was I? Oh, that’s right, awake. Good. Okay, good, I’m awake. But not for long so I’ll say goodnight.

Until we meet again. (Which may be soon, or not for a while, says the wind.)

xx Brooke

Categories
Life

Thinking

It’s an odd spot I find myself in. This middle land of bloggy days.

This creative world of half-begun.

These are the things that I know:

  • I know I love the freedom of this blog: it doesn’t feel right to be stuck in a box.
  • I know my new blog is ‘a box.’ A lovely box, that I hope to be very proud of one day, but it is a box. I need more than a box.
  • I know I love this place. It’s home to my love of books. Music. Friends. It is my heart and soul. My unbridled creativity.
  • I know I’m not ready to give up on my Little Blog of Everything, yet.

So I’ve decided I won’t.

I thought it would make sense for me to let it go, and in some ways it does but in other ways it doesn’t. This grey world. However do we make it through. 🙂

This blog allows all my creative seasons to be, and to be shared.

I love that. I love sharing my talents and passions: for much too much of my life, my creativity was held captive, losing life behind the bars of solitude. I fear that by leaving this place, I will be placing that creativity back in the hands of a sloppy, unappreciative owner. I don’t want to do that.

I want to always let it fly.

So I’ll stay until I know in my heart of hearts that it’s time to say goodbye.

That’s what Mary Poppins said to the children.

I’ll stay.

Until the wind changes (which might be never.)

(And Empath Days will carry on as planned. xx)

empathdays.com(opens in a new tab)

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Categories
Poetry

Who Are You?

Who are you?

What do you need

to feel like

the you you’ve forgotten you are.

Hint: It’s the first thing that comes to your mind, bloggy friends. Doing that thing will help you live your best life. I’m so sure.❤️

Ps. I’m going to take another break, I think. I’m doing a Writing for Children’s Picture book course, so I might benefit from a bit of space while I move that through my world.

Please feel free to stalk all two years worth of my blog if you miss our daily love ins. You know I love nothing more than sharing my heart with you all. Go nuts. xx And have an amazing week. ❤️

xx Brooke

Categories
Writing

The Novel

Two years ago, before the universe exploded everything around me, I began two very writerly things. One thing was this blog (and what an absolute gift this place has been to me. Writing and a beautiful little band of friends to share my life with? I mean, what life experience could be more wonderful. )

The other writerly thing I began was my very first novel, which became just about my whole entire heart when it began to spin its delicate web within me. I fell in love with the people, the places, the thoughts, the ideas. Everything. My novel felt like a safe and lovely home, and I felt like I was the lucky owner.

Apparently it wasn’t time for the novel, though, because the universe decided to blow my life up and make me a whole new person (thanks very much universe. Oh, you’re really quite welcome, Brooke.)

Anyway, I’m getting silly ( 🙂 )but according to the universe, there were a few more breadcrumbs of life for me to pick up before this novel could take flight…and without ruining the story for you, I can tell you: the universe was right. My goodness, how right the universe was to blow up my world and my novel.

I can’t quite articulate how I feel about the novel now that I’ve returned to it, but I can say that the clarity of thought and expression I now experience in my creative life— due to the meditation and healing I’ve done since then, I’d imagine — has given me a new set of eyes. And a new piece of my heart to write with. My goodness, you guys. It is the most magical, wonderful thing.

A great deal more of my novel makes sense to me now. I couldn’t possibly have written the novel that was asking to be written back then because I didn’t have the right ingredients within the writerly/ humanly cook book of me, then.

But lately I’ve started hearing whispers from the universe and this is what they’ve said:

It’s time. You are ready.

And guys?

It’s true.

I am so completely ready.

Let’s do this.

Photo by Janko Ferlic on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

The Soft Girl Snooze

I like to pop in every day, if I can. Often there are days that I miss, and today was going to be one of them. I’m just a bit tired, today. The only me I have available to give is a little ‘hello, I hope you’re all doing okay.’

It frustrates me when the Soft Girl is out of action (for those of my bloggy family who are new, the Soft Girl is what I call my intuition/connection to self/connection to my creativity).

That beautiful wind feels ridiculously lovely as it moves through me, and the results of the Soft Girl’s blissful energy in motion are often just as lovely. So I’m missing her, today. She’s having a little snooze, and that’s okay. ☺️

Anyway, so much love bloggy friends. Hopefully I’ll be back with a little more in the tank, tomorrow. xx

Categories
Life

A Bloggy Snooze

Hi guys, ❤️

I thought I might take a little time away from our lovely bloggy land.

I’ll miss you a fair bit, so I might be back in a couple of days, or three or four. Or a week. (No longer than a week, I don’t imagine.)

It occurred to me the other day that I always have the tap turned on and flowing toward this place, and that it might be nice to turn it off, or at least, around, for a while.

I’m sure the creative flow will just split off into another river of expression. What will it be, I wonder? I do have some pot-plant pots that need painting. A canvas that’s been sitting bare for about six-months (partly because I’m lazy, partly because I’m busy, and partly because I can’t really paint.)

Anyway, I thought a bit of time to recharge might be nice.

I’ll be in the contact section if anyone needs me.

Sending so much love, you guys.

Soon. ❤️

Categories
Life

Proof of Glum

I’m hovering over the heater. If my pants were made of plastic, in fact, they’d have melted to my legs by now.

That’s beside the point, I suppose. The point is…actually, there is no point. I’m just feeling a little glum and I wanted the world to know that this sort of thing happens to people.

Sadness. Pain.

It happens, and here I am, gifting you all with the gloriously heavy mud bricks of proof. Proof of glum. (Thank goodness I made this a little blog of everything. Today, it’s my diary.)

I wonder if any of you remember the girl who started this blog. Perpetually happy. Not a cloud in the sky. She was a little soul starved, certainly, but she was sparkly, and happy happy happy. She could walk in nature and listen to music without bursting into flaming sobs of aching life.

My life is broken. And it’s also the greatest, most beautiful magical life I’ve ever known; a creative adventure that touches me to the very core. Can you see the utter confusion I’m dealing with here?

I’m angry. At everybody and nobody at all.

I’m sad, because I am.

I’ve just read a wonderful article about the creative brain, actually, and how creative folk do tend to go through bouts of depression and the like, just because of the way we’re wired. Because of the often self imposed isolation (umm, me.) Because of the heightened senses (umm, also me.)

I suppose it’s a seperate can of worms when you throw in a marriage seperation, two small children, a global health pandemic and a raging angry sea of humans. I feel all these things deeply. And where once I buried pain as soon as it struck, I now allow myself to feel it. (Who even does that. Blurgh.)

I don’t want anyone to worry about me. The clouds always clear. Usually by morning (so there’s the bright side girl, being annoying again.)

But life, hey. ☺️ Sometimes I just feel a little more human than I really want to, and I suppose the next part of my journey is learning how to be okay with that.

I’m certain I must be known around town as that girl who walks and cries. It’s the music. It quite literally becomes me, to the point where I feel like I’m a floating puff of emotional cloud. It’s not even my emotion. Its the emotion (the energy) of the song. People must think I’m barking mad as I float along, sometimes whimsical, sometimes in tears.

Anyway. Fascinating. Wonderous.

Achey.

I’ll get there. x

So much love, bloggy friends.

This ol’ softy, Brooke.

Categories
Life

This Sack Of Potatoes

It’s a beautiful memory.

Six-year-old me. Bundled in a blanket. Mum hoisting me into the air, swinging round and about and back again.

‘This sack of potatoes is SO HEAVY!’, she jollied, as she wobbled me up the porch steps and into Nan and Pops arms for the evening. She was a young, single woman. I suppose she must have been going out on the town.

That moment. It was thirty-one years ago, but actually— in my heart and in my mind, it’s now. I see it—and feel it— clearly. Dreams live on the same street as memories: sleeping dreams, and dreams for a brighter day. Books and the characters to whom they introduce us: they live in the magical, beautiful blackness, too.

Now.

That’s where they live, I think.

Home.

And bloggy friends? One day, I will call us (and this bloggy land of ours) a beautiful, beautiful memory.

But in the twinkling dust of eternity—we will always be now.

And we will always be able to find each other at home.

My goodness.

To me, that is just one of the loveliest, lovely things.

photo of woman taking notes
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