Tag: Connection

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Peaches In The Darling Sun

War And The Horrible Beautiful

The horrible beautiful: it is the ache our soul knows and understands as our connected truth.

What could be beautiful about war, you might ask? I ask the same question myself, every single day. It is beyond painful what is occurring in the world at this time, and so many of us would do just about anything to take the pain away from our beautiful Ukrainian friends.

Ah. You saw it there, didn’t you. The beautiful part? You saw it right there in the love.

And that is what I mean about war, how it’s both beautiful and horrible at the same time. War opens hearts by breaking them. It shows us just how important we are to each other, and it shows us just how deep our human connection goes. We grow more beautiful as a collective in times of pain.

I know few would ever ever choose war.

I would never ever choose war.

But I absolutely choose the togetherness. The signs I’ve seen all over the world declaring:

‘Ukraine, we are with you.’

My goodness, I choose that kind of beautiful.

My goodness, I choose that for humanity.

Shine on, beautiful humanity.

We are with you, darling Ukraine.

Day Six. We are one.
Categories
Life

Hermit

I always thought I’d become a hermit. I saw myself in the bush somewhere, surrounded by breaking sticks and bark for miles and I was home there. No one to argue with. No one to feel too much of.

I’m not far off what I thought I’d be, I realised the other day.

I have only a few good friends.

I enjoy only the shortest get togethers before I search for the nearest exit. I like it this way. A little bit of a lot, is better than a lot of a little bit, to me.

Not that I don’t like people, quite the opposite. People can be miraculous when they allow themselves to be. When they even know the miraculous is available to them…and that’s where the hermit thing comes in. Not many people around here know about miraculous humanity.

And so I’m not a hermit, not really.

But then, I am in a way.

I always will be, but for the few I choose carefully.

And I do choose. Carefully.

And usually with love.

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Octopus Mum

I just fell in love with an octopus.

It was an octopus mum, to be specific, a mum just like me. And my mum, and yours, and his mum and hers.

I wouldn’t say it was the octopus herself I fell in love with, exactly…

It was the love.

The love I somehow absolutely knew she felt for her little tiny octopus babes. It was grace in motion, the way she bundled her precious little ones into the ocean, the way she held them with her soul.

Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant (29 weeks, not that I’m counting down or anything.)

Or maybe it’s just because love is what connects every living creature on this earth and I think that is the most beautiful miracle, regardless of the motherly hormones surging through my veins.

I think it’s the miracle thing.

The love thing, the complete and utter mind boggling beauty of it all.

I am so saddened it took me this long to connect to all of life, truly I am, but I’m also beyond grateful to have had a chance to know this depth of connection with my fellow planet dwellers. It really is the most magical, wondrous thing.

Now, If you’ll excuse me…there must be another adorable octopus video on the internet somewhere. I mean, surely.

Photo by Pia on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Life Beyond

I know when I am talking to a persons soul.

There is no feeling wider, deeper, more beautiful than to sit beside a friend and know them beyond their human story.

The vastness of them.

The invisible wonder; felt, yet unseen.

No feeling I’d rather choose. No place I’d rather be.

I try not to reject the aspects of humanity that never can reach the boundless home our spirits connect in: the place I find the shine in peoples eyes.

But how could life without that shine ever compare to the deep blue sea of a wide open soul?

I am addicted to my souls home.

I miss it, and my soul people, when I am not there.

Life is beyond anything I could ever think to complain about, though.

Life is beyond anything I could ever think.

Photo by Alan Cabello on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

The Web

It is beautiful,

I think,

to be a very small thread

on the web of it all.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

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
Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Categories
Life

Beneath It All

Beneath it all, there is a human.

Surely to be human is to share our world with others, and to find ourselves in their worlds, too.

We get so lost beneath things that are not real.

The stories we create to make life more.

But no story—not a day on the moon, not a night among the stars—will ever compare to the authentic moments of you.

My fellow humans.

When my soul meets yours and I say:

I see you. I really do see you. And it’s okay. And I love you.

That’s all there is, surely.

Surely, that is all there truly is.

people gathering together on cold sea beach for picnic
Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

In The Arms Of A Dream

If I sit with you.

On the patio,

by the sunflowers.

If I find you

with my soft and steady gaze.

If I give you my heart,

if I whisper your name

will you hold me?

In the arms of a dream

will you hold me,

love?

Categories
Life

We are One

open.spotify.com/track/6EPyl8kU0dPIgoLCIuh25F

It’s important to me at this time (and, in fact, forever and always) to shine a hope for peace and equality for all.

We are one.

And though this song sings an Australian story, I sing it to the world. Because I am me, I am not on any one side; to me there are no two sides.

Just one.

Humanity.

Today, we speak for our beautiful black lives: who matter now, and always have mattered. Tomorrow, perhaps we might speak for each and every life touched by the closed eyes (and heart) of intolerance.

For the less obvious among society who have been oppressed and eye rolled entire lifetimes long, often suffering in silence:

* the sensitives and empaths of the world.

* the quirky/odd ones.

* the wildlings.

* the nerds.

Mainstream society is very good at identifying the obvious marginalised groups and fighting for their inclusion and acceptance.

It’s time, though, to dig deeper by asking:

Who am I intolerant of?

And why?

Are they not human, also? Like me?

We are all worthy of being seen through neutral eyes, and we are all worthy of forgiveness and being held through our darkest days.

Embracing our individuality, and separating from the rigid judgements and expectations of mainstream culture, ironically, seems to be the way to remember we are one.

Being kind to ourselves, and our fellow humans as we work through our kinks, might also be a lovely thing.

So much love, my beautiful bloggy friends.

I’ll stop with my little bursts of unsolicited opinion, now, because I trust that everything in life happens for a reason. I trust that everyone finds the exact experiences they need in order to shine exactly the way they were always meant to.

Why, then, did I post this particular contradictory blog post?

Only the wind knows that, I suppose.

xx Your girl always, Brooke. xx

Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 24. Home

This darling place to call my home, these darling friends to call my own.

It’s a soft feeling that fills me, a feeling that’s not left me since my first word fell upon the breeze of us.

photo of girls wearing dress while holding hands
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Darling comes close to describing us.

But the real truth of us lives within the quiet. Because the real truth of us, dear bloggy friends, is that our home (our connection) is too beautiful for words to know.

a beautiful dog breed with a thick coat
Photo by La Miko on Pexels.com

Darling are all the days of us.

The days my heart places questions within these invisible walls, and your hearts answer: I see you.

Thank you so so much for seeing me, sweet friends.

I so completely see you, too.

crop friends stacking hands together
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Who knows where tomorrow will find us—but for now we are home.

In this moment we are home, with the friends we have chosen.

And oh my darling goodness.

Home is all the lovely things, to me.

woman in white tank top smiling

Photo by Léo Vinícius on Pexels.com