I’ve done it again.
I’ve pressed delete.
Any words that might hurt another, even if they are my truth, cannot stay here.
And though the post I’ve just deleted feels right from my perspective…there is the potential that it may hurt certain people either close to the story or who have opposing views.
And so it is: delete.
It’s my way.
To care.
So let this truth be for my heart only.
And I will send love into the world, to take its place.
There is silence
where the gaps are.
Weeping holes
in a persons soul, for life,
or just,
perhaps,
for a little while.
There she was.
She had always been there
beneath the rubble of crumbling
life.
How sweetly the sun did shine
upon her remembrance.
It is the depths that call me here.
It is the silence
and the bells
of yesterdays wish.
Let there be now.
Let there be this walk alone
in the gentle woods.
I hold this fear in soft arms
and let her be.
She is a dear traveller.
She knows this village well.
Peace, dear friend.
We shall sit
and we shall be, without wishing
to change one another.
It’s just gone 12:30, a new year has rolled in.
Of all the people I have to wish a dear and beautiful new year to…it is you, bloggy friends. My soul folk.
I ache to express what words cannot.
I love celebrating New Year’s Eve, which is quite funny, really, considering my perspective has changed quite a bit over the years.
What is a year, but a day after a day after a few hundred more days?
What is a day, but a spinning of the giant ball upon which we sit?
A year is a human construct.
All of life as we perceive it is.
Can you imagine the first cavemen sitting around the campfire discussing who they aim to be ‘next year’? To them, the sun rises, the sun falls.
There is no day. No month. No year.
Think of all we frame in a year. Time frames can limit us in ways I’m not sure we entirely understand.
But I will still always celebrate the new year as a beautiful way to express gratitude for life. It’s especially beautiful to have a reason to connect and celebrate with each other.
Anyway. ☺️
Happy new year, team.
I send you bucket loads of unconditional love and care.
Take it and sprinkle it every where.
xx Brooke
The scars of life run so very deep. It’s hard to remember them, hard to sit with that pain.
The moments of quiet are beautiful, though, and moments of love revisited are to be cherished.
How beautiful true love feels when compared to its total opposite.
And I will quietly be
as I am.
Yes, I will quietly be.
I miss you, my beautiful bloggy friends.
My goodness my heart misses you.
It is truly a strange thing, that here, more than any other place, my truth shines her beautiful light.
Everywhere else on earth, I am partly starving.
Here, I am free.
Like a feather on the wind.
I am free.
Thank you for holding me, here.
xx Brooke
The birds are home and so am I.
I could say they are noisy, but they are not really noisy. They are only noisy if I think of them in relation to my world.
On their own, they are just who and what they are.
Birds.
Chirping, squawking birds.
I’ve deleted another of my posts (those of you who have been around for a while will know I have done this, from time to time) because the energy of the post didn’t feel like my truth.
It felt like the underside of my world. It felt like the dark parts of me, not my sunshine.
I choose only to shine on this world, when I can help it.
In the post I deleted, I spoke of scammers and manipulation, and where I have felt victimised as a woman in the past. These pains, I know, are real, and they will live within me and walk beside me in everything I do.
But they are not who I am. And the ways I have been victimised are not the people who have hurt me, either.
I see those who have bullied me, taken advantage of me, used or abused me, but I see the pain within them more. They have been small children, hurt by something in life, desperate to cover that pain with a bandaid.
Who am I to blame them when I am the bearer of the very same wounds that scar them?
I will try for the birds, to allow them to be.
brooke-cutler.com 