But isn’t it entirely beautiful
to be you.

But isn’t it entirely beautiful
to be you.
These tender nights.
This soul that whispers,
weary as can be.
Such love shines
upon the pavement of life.
Darlings of mine.
How they take this heart,
how they shatter the light,
that I might be the stars.
But there you are, darling softness.
Keeper of my hopes, dreamer of my dreams.
How do you hold my heart, this night?
Full of dear, sweet memories.
Full of dear, dear
days and nights gone by.
Perhaps
you might ask your heart what it wants.
Perhaps
you might listen.
Perhaps.
I must remind myself:
the wildflowers will wait.
We spend a great deal of our lives being afraid of the cookie, don’t we?
Too much sugar, too much fat, too much cookie induced shame (note to self, and the world: shame causes more damage than the cookie.)
If only we’d take a moment to just…love the cookie.
Just love it, and eat it.
It is a beautiful creation, gifted to the world by someone who understood that it was okay to enjoy our humanity while we are here on earth.
I’m no longer afraid of the cookie, and because of this my whole life has changed. The black soot of fear no longer owns every choice I make.
I just love the cookie. I love the cookie, and live my life being aware of any cookie danger, but not afraid.
I eat the cookie slowly.
The beauty of life is in the cherishing of it.
Shall I be sensible
a moment?
Oh, dying to live,
dear dreary day.
Let you find me
twisted beautifully
among the berry vines.
Let you be the one
to be sensible.
I am home when the beautiful song of my heart is at peace.
There is nothing loud, here, nothing beyond the birds and the rippling pools of shadow on brick.
I am just me, in all of my softness.
Me, in this beautiful place, home.
I have loved tenderly, here.
I will always love tenderly.
And when there is sun
such as this,
and when there is beautiful drift
and swaying trees,
I see life as it is
and I know it is good.
For, the mind, I know
tells stories.
And yet
perfect truth
is this touch of fresh air.
Just another season.
Another precious season
of darling life.
I made the beds as if it might be the last time.
I didn’t think, ‘Oh. Gosh. You know, I better take more care in making these beds, I might be gone by tomorrow morning.’ It wasn’t like that.
I just folded the sheets over in a way that made my hands feel one with the sheets. I folded the pyjamas and placed them on the end of the bed while watching the way my hands moved; I marvelled at how beautiful those hands looked and felt to me.
It’s the most delicious season of life, this point in time where I’m naturally going with the flow that turns planets and unfurls flowers and plants.
I am just so grateful for all that beautiful loveliness, and I really wanted to come and share some of its whimsical wind with you.
And so I say:
I hope you know you are loved, but…I hope you also know it’s okay to forget, sometimes. Forgetting makes the remembering so, so precious. Truly.
I hope you always remember mistakes are the beautiful door to the changes life has been wishing for you.
I hope you learn to forgive yourself and others, and then go and eat a massive slice of chocolate cake on a random Tuesday, just because.
And I hope you…well, maybe I’ll leave this last hope up to you.
Hope something beautiful for yourself.
I promise, this wish will bring to you the most beautiful things.
xx Brooke