Categories
Life

It’s Not Self Care. It’s Living. Beautifully.

We tend to just do things, don’t we, without thinking too much of it. We go places, we see people. But do we really go places? Do we really see people? Most importantly, I suppose: do we do this life as we’d truly like to, from the absolute quiet of who we are?

There was a great chunk of my life where I didn’t follow the quiet voice that, only ten minutes ago, whispered to me: ‘Grab a candle, your computer, a cup of lavender tea. Go and sit on the couch. And Brooke? Dim the lights, will you?’

This voice, of course, belonged to me. The Soft Girl, to be specific, and how lovely it was to feel her presence in the quiet of the evening (the Soft Girl is the name I’ve given to my intuition/spirit for those of you who are new, here.) 🙂

Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t interject with a teeny little side-note, to take us deeper into things. Self Care is the label most would glue to what I am currently doing with my body, my soul, my evening. But as the memory of the Soft Girl’s whisper returns to me (it was as I reached for the tea bag, if you’re wondering) I find myself rejecting this label, slightly.

Living fully, it seems, is what I am actually doing. Hearing the whispers and living them all the way through.

To me, the current collective perspective of Self Care implies a lack of something, a need for something nice to fill the spaces in between it all. For example, we often say: I’m so tired. I lack time. I lack energy. I am going to gift myself a beautiful little slice of Self Care because I lack all the above things.

The thing is this, though: don’t we all deserve to live a beautiful, care-filled existence simply because we are alive? Don’t we deserve the deeper level of care we innately have to offer ourselves, because our hearts have asked for it, and for no other reason?

I think we do.

So I’m going to start listening more carefully to the Soft Girl’s whispers, and gifting myself life to the fullest, whenever I can.

I so hope you do, too, my sweet bloggy friends.

You deserve it. Because you’re you.

xx Brooke

Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Who Are You?

Who are you?

What do you need

to feel like

the you you’ve forgotten you are.

Hint: It’s the first thing that comes to your mind, bloggy friends. Doing that thing will help you live your best life. I’m so sure.❤️

Ps. I’m going to take another break, I think. I’m doing a Writing for Children’s Picture book course, so I might benefit from a bit of space while I move that through my world.

Please feel free to stalk all two years worth of my blog if you miss our daily love ins. You know I love nothing more than sharing my heart with you all. Go nuts. xx And have an amazing week. ❤️

xx Brooke

Categories
Poetry

Glorious Sun

Never become separate

from the raging, hungry depths

of you.

Sweet you.

Sweet, glorious sun.

Shine for a thousand tomorrows.

Shine for a thousand blazing days of you.

Categories
Life

Life to Come

She had spent too many hours of her life

fearing things

that might not come to pass.

brown hourglass on brown wooden table
Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Life

It’s Time

It’s time to speak the words I too often hide.

Because, actually, silence can kill.

And words can change the world for the better.

photo of baby on gray wooden board
Photo by Muhammad Moin Ulhaq on Pexels.com

 

It’s time to love my life like I only have one.

Because I do only have one.

Well, that’s what some people think, anyway.

hot air balloons on air
Photo by Mundo Sem Muros on Pexels.com

 

It’s time to answer the questions that hide within the book of me.

I can’t erase them until I’ve answered them.

And I need more room in that book to write the rest of my life.

woman lying on green grass while holding pencil
Photo by Liam Anderson on Pexels.com

It’s time for me to stop letting the big meanies win all the time.

Because big meanies think that doughnuts are only for eating.

I mean, really. Whoever would think a sensible thing like that?

woman wearing sweater covering her eyes with doughnuts
Photo by Mahima on Pexels.com

Categories
A Blog a Day in May

Friday Waffle

I’ve blown up the heater, again. Both of them. First the ducted heating, then the little beige buzzy thing I set up to replace it. That went within ten minutes of me turning it on, so I suppose this means we really will need to get the fire going tonight. (Not a tragedy. I so adore the warmth and romance of a wood fire, don’t you?)

I thought I’d do a bit of a waffle session on the blog, today. The ‘soft girl’ has been punishing you all with philosophical musings for quite a few days now, and let’s face it— some days are absolutely made for waffling. Today is one of them. Friday! My favorite day of the week.

Friday is like a deep breath, isn’t it? Perhaps it’s even a gasp, for some, like breaching the surface of a way too deep week of work. The end of the working week is a comfort that most of us cling to as a means of reward, celebration, and escape. And, by most of us, I mean…me. I’ve always loved that about Friday, the feeling of peace and closure attached to it.

But I also hate that. Why should we (human folk) feel the need to rush through life, just so we can make it to that place where all the good things live. Family. Me time. Time to work for ‘the self’, rather than for ‘the self of someone else’.

I dream of the day we all slot into our perfect puzzle pieces. The day we all stand up and say, actually no. I feel there is something more for me, something that will light my soul on fire and have me feeling just a little less excited about Friday. About the weekend.

Yes, I’m a dreamer. But it’s possible. Anything is.

Well. At least, I think so. 🙂

Happy weekend, my beautiful bloggy friends.

Oh! And, Happy Friday! 🙂

xx Brooke

box business celebrate celebration
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Categories
Poetry

Today

Yesterday

I cried for the train that left my sad eyes

at the station.

But yesterday wasn’t today.

Today

I understood why the train had to leave

without me.

It was so I would go in search

of my wings.

It was so I would remember

how nice it feels

to fly.

silhouette of woman raising her hands
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com