And just so the lot of you know:
THIS
will be the
BEST damn year
of
ALL
our lives.
(This blog post was proudly brought to you by the soul cleansing- complete and utter dork making- power of the full moon in Pisces.)
Yayah! Woot!
Categories
Tag: Courage
I’m feeling such a tender ache within me, this morning. The aching quiet, I call it, this softness. This knowing of connection between humans and life, between humans and other humans.
Tenderness — more specifically, sitting within the depths of this beautiful, intense feeling with others — is something I’ve accidentally avoided in the past. I had no idea I’d been avoiding it until…oh, about ten minutes ago when I realised how beautiful it feels, and how much I’ve been craving it. And avoiding it.
I thought I wore my heart on my sleeve. I do wear my heart on my sleeve, so it’s easy to see how I’ve fooled myself. But when I really think of the years gone by, I think of that bright, bubbly sunshine I used to be…and I see that her sunshine was a wall. Of protection. A wall to keep the depth of intensity in. Or out.
I still get a little scared. I still want to run. But every time I run, I lose a beautiful, beautiful moment of human connection that could have changed two human lives for the better. Every serious moment I cover with humour, I suppose, is way of rejecting myself and the truth of what is asking to be.
Perhaps I’m over thinking it. But to me this is more of a feel, a feel that is running very deeply through me on this cloudy morning.
This tenderness is so lovely, far too lovely to live without.
From now on, I choose to be brave.
Categories
Dark Mistress
Oh, fear, my dark mistress sweet.
Play me into your arms of fright.
Chill me with crooked fingers.
Undress my calm,
tempt me into hiding:
I will rise.
And you will find the truth of me
has no room inside to hold you.
The truth of me flies
without you
darling.
Categories
Just The Way You Are
For the ones who think they are broken.
You are beautiful.
Just the way you are.
Crisp walls and lavender fresh linen. It was her mother who insisted on such drastic perfection and, until now, it had never occurred to Geraldine that life had the option to be anything other than perfect. She would be forty in a month, and although her Mother would not approve, Geraldine craved something more. Something wild. Something actually really quite bad.
She flung a leg out of the bath and breathed into her belly: hold one, two three…a cool, soothing wind on the out-breath. What if she did allow herself a regression to the grotty child that once she was? An ignorant small human, who far too often muddied the guest couch—and her mother’s delightfully manicured day. A child who, one day, would find the courage to tell her mother that the couch had been, in fact, the hills coming alive with the romping, stomping wonderful sound of music.
‘Darling,‘ her mother would say, through a smiling mouth and chainsaw eyes. ‘You must always be good.‘ Eventually, the words and the eyes had the desired effect, and Geraldine did, indeed, grow into the neatly folded girl her Mother had groomed her to be. Perfection in a girl, life under strict lock and key. Geraldine was the fly in the web of her mother’s high standards. Alive but not living. Rotting away under the critical eye of the long-legged other in her life.
Her bathrobe waited to give her a warm hug after the bath was over. What if she didn’t use it? What if she stood, dried, and walked about the house. Naked. She lived alone, but even so, free range nudity was a luxury afforded only to men, and those unfortunate women requiring external stimulation for the treatment of low self-esteem. Nudity— even solo nudity—was not for good girls.
Until, of course, it was.
Geraldine rose from the tub and reached for the gracefully folded towel that lay atop the sparkling white sink. Perfection died tonight. Her mother’s hold on her life died, all limbs bared, tonight.
The soft leather couch was like warm paint to her naked skin. Although the liberation of nudity felt wonderful, it was…still not enough. Geraldine needed more. And so it was, that more arose.
As if by some miraculous order of the universe, some equally trapped eternal wind searching for life, the doorbell rang.
Geraldine smiled.
She rose from the couch, without a beat, without a care.
Darling, indeed, she thought.
Darling, indeed.
As we enter a new year
and a new world,
we stand together
and
we
say
THIS.
Life is for living.
And so it is
WE LIVE.
Categories
A Bright New Day
Moon sat at the edge of the rainbow,
where the dark clouds shone silver in the sky.
‘Rain if you must, dark clouds. I am ready.’
And when the rain came, moon wept
for the day that had come to an end.
‘It’s time,’ Moon said.
‘It’s time for the bright new day to begin.’
This is the Darling Tree.
Isn’t it lovely?
And oh-my-GOODNESS.
I have an idea!
Why don’t we climb it? Together.
Just like we did when we were pipsqueaks.
Just like we did before we painted our serious faces on.
Don’t you remember it? That freedom?
Climbing to the top of the world without a care.
Gasping when we lost our footing; cackling on the ground, relieved to be still in one piece.
Surely you remember it.
We were superheroes, you and me. Chasing the bad guy to the highest branch.
We can do that again.
We can. We just have to decide it.
Climb a tree, you say. But why? Why would we do such a thing?
Who knows. Who cares! Let’s just climb.
Just so we can go home and make rings around the bathtub again.
Just so that we can say those two simple words again: Why not.
Why not.
Don’t they sound like a river running wild? Don’t they sound…
Free?
Yes. They do. So come on! Let’s fling on our capes and fly.
Up to the rooftops of the Darling Tree.
Oh. And don’t worry. I’ll pack supplies.
We could be gone a while. xx
brooke-cutler.com 