Oh, the softness you are.
The sweet story of you
whistled through my pages,
the sharpest sorrow, bringing me to
life.
There is nothing more beautiful
than the glistening shards
of a lifetime of broken hearts
melting together again.
This softness,
this story of two best friends,
fills my heart with quiet.
When the roar is over
there is only me
smiling softly.
And you,
somewhere.
Somewhere in time
gone by.
I’m grateful for beautiful people who shine a light for those wandering the dark.
I’m grateful for those wandering the dark. Grateful they are survivors: that they may not know they have won, yet, but they have. And they will see that shining sun, soon.
I’m grateful for love. No matter what it looks like, no matter how it gets there: it’s love, and it’s beautiful. And I’m grateful.
I’m grateful for all of it.
Joy, pain: all of it.
I’m grateful.
I’m grateful.
It is a long
painful
journey.
But the roast potatoes
are out
of this
world.
‘You must not fuss,’
said the boy to the bear.
‘This pot may no longer overflow with honey.
But look.
At the pot.
At its rainbow shine,
at its faded inscription.
This pot has been cherished.
And because it has been cherished
it shines,
and it fades
all at the same time.
Who cares if the taste
of its beautiful
is over.
A memory of life,
enough to feed the two of us,
still lives in your hands.
Let us sit
and eat it together.’
Every darling day,
I wait
to breathe.
Just one breath.
A chance
to be,
to dream,
to love.
And when that
gust of life becomes me
I am grateful.
To the darling wind
of everything…
I am grateful.
I felt connected to myself today, somehow more grounded than I’ve felt for a long while.
It was a surprising— and much longed for—shift in energy, I have to say. It reminded me of the early days of this blog, when I was still me enough to feel steady on my feet, but not me enough to know I was about to fly somewhere. And I didn’t know where I was about to fly, all I knew was…it was going to be somewhere else.
Somewhere alive.
Somewhere free, somewhere so incredibly beautiful— and as it happens, that place is slowly finding me. Slowly, very slowly, but it’s finding me, and I’m grateful.
I’m grateful to those of you who’ve stayed with me through the waves. The highs and lows of a newly single Mum of two, who, quite frankly, still has quite the way to go before finding anything that looks remotely like stability.
But I’m getting there.
And today…well, today made me think that I might just be a little closer than I thought I was to getting back to the grounded girl (woman) who started this blog.
The depression has been the killer for me, I think. The uncertainty of a life gone mad, threw me (and continues to throw me, actually) under the bus of life, and given I’ve isolated myself fairly solidly for, oh, you know, my whole life…I’ve largely been dealing with all these changes alone. So, guys…it’s kind of sucked. Majorly. Just a little bit. (I should point out that I’m not placing myself in the role of ‘victim’, here. I’m aware that every step of my journey has been mine to take. I’m just pointing out what has been.)
Actually, I’m so truly grateful for many things. Having you guys to come back to, my two particularly patient besties, a really rather reasonable ex-husband (and positively brilliant Father, might I add), and a Dad of my own who takes my breath away with his steadfast, gentle there-ness. I mean, really, what’s an upside-down life when you have all of those wonderful things to turn your frown around.
You may have noticed the changes to my blog, and if not, that’s okay. I’ve never been very good at noticing peoples’ new hair cut either (even if they’ve had long hair and cut most of it off).
One thing I can guarantee will not be changing is my absolutely bonkers personality; the girl that brings you ‘dad’ jokes one day and mushy gooey poetry the next. The thing that this ‘awakening’ has taught me is that I am a blank canvas. I can be whoever I want to be, whoever I enjoy being the most.
And so I’ll keep being that slightly random (okay, pretty bloody random) girl you all know so well, if you don’t mind. I never did fit into a box, and I’ll never aim to fit into one either.
I’m just very randomly me.
And I’m so glad I’ve got a very lovely band of lovely heads (you guys!) to spill all my tears and love hearts onto, every now and then.
(Aww. xx)
To my dear bloggy friends,
I’m sorry it’s been so long since I checked in here with my actual voice. Truthfully, I’ve felt quite stuck in place, and really unable to move many places outside of the muddy waters of my head. I really am okay, though, and although I’ve still got quite the ways up the hill to travel: I’m getting there, one step at a time. I hope you can forgive my absence.
I was thinking of you all as I ran home from the lake, earlier, actually, and so I wanted to pop in and share my musings. I so appreciate the time you take to read my words and have them connect with the world you are creating inside of yourself. I’ve been searching for ‘boats like me’ this whole time. A tribe, to help me feel as though I belong somewhere.
Well. How about it when, pounding the pavement trying my best to not completely die, I realised…I’ve already found my tribe.
It’s all of you.
Isn’t that the most beautiful, wonderful thing?
I accidentally created my own tribe, and all this time I had no idea that’s what you were.
My tribe. My soul friends. I mean, really, that’s what you are isn’t it, and I think that is all the lovely things.
It occurred to me as I made my way back from the lake that even if we’ve never communicated: our energy connects as soon as you read my words and feel something. And according to the soft girl inside of me, the power of non-verbal communication (however invisible and abstract) is just as powerful a communication tool as the use of words. (How funny I’m saying that with actual words.)
And so it was that I discovered just exactly why this little bloggy land of mine has always felt so much like home.
It’s because it is. Home. To me and my tribe, my very bloggy family.
Thank you so much for allowing me to share a team with you, guys.
It really is the loveliest thing in the world.
xx Brooke
