Categories
Poetry

Muddy Waters

Muddy waters are pure

beneath the mud.

Photo by JACK REDGATE on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Forgotten

So you’ve forgotten what it feels like

to unfold yourself,

to undress, her soul

in your hands

like the dream

she was always meant to be

for you.

Photo by John Rocha on Pexels.com
Categories
Music

Sneak Peak- Humanity

Hello my sweet bloggy friends.❤️

Given I share so much of my creative journey with you, I thought it would be so super special to share with you my latest song writing project.☺️ (Yes- that’s my 17 year old piano. Aww. ❤️)

I’m halfway through writing this one, and so far it’s been a lot of fun to write. I love digging into the darker energies of humanity to see what comes up: song writing is such a wonderful way to really yank out the emotional weeds, so to speak. 😂

I have no idea where this one is going to go from here, but I suppose I’ll find out soon.

HUMANITY

Lyrics:

V-1. I see your smiling face, but I know your fall from grace, you pick the pieces up and hide them in the shade of things unseen. Oh yes, I know you well, the dark within your shell, the lies you tell yourself to make it all okay.

So set fire to the good girl inside, and be all you want to be. Don’t disguise the pain in your eyes, the stories untrue: you’re not the only one with secrets.

C- Humanity, oh melt me with the whispers of your blue melody, a symphony of secret wishes: life unseen, hearts unclean, humanity, humanity, humanity. ✨

So much love.

xx Brooke

Categories
Poetry

These Tears

Do these tears make you

uncomfortable?

How about

this:

does the rain make you

uncomfortable?

The sky

is not afraid to rain, and I

am not afraid to cry.

I am not afraid of what you’ll

think

of me if I cry. Just as I am not

afraid

of what you’ll think of me if

I sneeze.

Or laugh.

Or breathe.

Categories
Poetry

For Love

People call them

boundaries.

I just call them walls.

To keep the love in.

Or out.

I could use a boundary

or two.

But what would I be

if it wasn’t for love?

What would I be

if it wasn’t

for love?

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
Life

The Journey

Life, for me, has been an up and down ride.

A little like one of those slides at the playground, the ones that follow a wave-like movement and snake you all the way down to the ground, sometimes taking your stomach with it.

Life, for me, also changed when I had the epiphany that my body (and I believe all bodies, but that’s a theory for another post, I suppose) was absorbing the energy of life around me, and I was reacting heavily based on whatever it was absorbing. Needless to say: learning, and exploring, the term Empath changed my life. And learning about subtle energy and meditation changed it even more.

This morning—all in the space of an hour—I’ve had memories resurface that (although I missed the memo at the time) were very obvious signposts as to my body’s highly sensitive nature. I’ll never forget, about a million years ago, sitting in the passenger seat of our old clunker with my Dad at the wheel. Every morning we would travel to our shared workplace together, and every morning, in a confused state of discomfort, I would shudder as I listened to the morning show hosts chatter away.

I adored the two of them. The whole town did, actually, they were a beautiful pair. But. They were extremely negative, and always it felt like there was a heaviness or grumpiness to their chatter that had me dreading the morning commute. It was confusing because I liked them. It was horrible because they felt so entirely uncomfortable within my body.

I now understand that this is because of the way that I am built, that the more dense the feeling I’m exposed to, the more I tend to flounder. As a result, a good amount of alone time is extremely important for me to get back into the middle of me. Extremely important. (Have I mentioned how important alone time is for me? Very.)

It’s not all bad, though. If grumpiness feels completely horrible to me, you might be able to guess how absolutely beautiful love feels within my tiny human frame. And nature. And music— oh good heavens, don’t even get me started on the absolute purity that music fills me with. It feels like a beautiful wind. A wind that twists and frees my body in ways I never thought possible.

Anyhow, it’s a journey. A beautiful adventure, filled with tears and joy and all the horrible lovely things. Where to next?

I suppose we’re all about to find out. 🙂

woman in brown jacket and gray knit cap
Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

The Same

Bliss

and

grief

are powerfully

confusingly

the same.

Categories
Musings

In-between

I’ve just read a friend’s blog post.

It’s broken me in half, completely stripped my soul bare.

It was about that very raw and real human conundrum: that invisible place between here and there.

That pristine place that almost exits, but doesn’t quite, and maybe never will.

That place in-between— it aches of unattainable knowing.

It is the fire that the phoenix rises from, before flying into the sunshine of a beautiful new day.

It feels so scary, to be here in this place in-between.

Do any of us ever know what’s on the other side of the flames?

No. 

Maybe that’s what makes this place feel so raw.

So truly achingly real.

Humanity.

What the bloody hell do you do to me?

woman sitting on floor while leaning on chair
Photo by Julia Mouru00e3o Missagia on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Life

Held

Tonight I miss my childhood.

I miss the way my Nan dipped onto to her knees and told me how precious I was to her. With her entire body, especially her eyes.

I miss the way my Mum held me when I cried. I miss the feeling of our two aches melting into one, and somehow just knowing that was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I’ve never missed the safe pieces of childhood before—at least not consciously, and I’d imagine it’s because most adults become adults and assume that the word adult means: ‘safe enough’ and ‘responsible enough’.

Well, I’m here to tell you…no.

Actually no.

I believe that adult means: whoever and whatever you are, when you are it.

And what I am right now, is aching for the child I once was, and the beautiful world of love that enveloped her during her younger years.

I ache to be emotionally held. Because that’s how it all began for me.

Of course I miss it.

I’ve learned to meditate and open my heart, and thank-goodness for that because it fills me with all the lovely things, including the beautiful feeling of being held in the way I so often feel I need to be.

Still, I miss the feeling of being emotionally held by another, without judgement.

Without judgement.

I just do, I miss it.

And so I miss my childhood.

I also know it’s okay that I miss my childhood.

That part, I think, might be the beautiful silver lining of this grey story.

woman and little girl in black long sleeve shirt and black pants
Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com