Categories
Poetry

A Little While

There is silence

where the gaps are.

Weeping holes

in a persons soul, for life,

or just,

perhaps,

for a little while.

Categories
Life

Heart

How my heart breaks when I think of it. The moment I was curled up on the hospital bed, weeping in my husbands arms, just absolutely sobbing with fear as the two doctors stood by, helpless to my tears.

Only moments earlier the male doctor had told me I was fine.

An hour or so earlier the female doctor had done the same thing.

And yet I wasn’t fine, my body was alive with movement. And in that moment, on that bed, all I could do was cry for the absolute terror of it. The absolute helplessness I felt in the face of what, to me, was one of the most frightening moments of my life.

I have experienced heart palpitations on and off for as long as I remember, they are not foreign to me. I know the blips. I know the sort of big, and a little scary ones.

But none of them have been like this. I called the ambulance. For myself. None of them had been like this.

They tell me: this is what anxiety does. Anxiety causes heart palpitations, and panic attacks. Apparently it was one of those.

But still, it frightened me.

It frightened me into an awareness that I wasn’t aware of before.

I am afraid of dying. If you’d asked me if I was afraid of dying three weeks ago I would have said, no, absolutely not.

But when my heart went to loopy land and energy shot straight from my heart up my throat, things changed. I have seen that fear, now, and there is nothing for me to do but honour it as best as I can.

I’ve cleaned up my diet, entirely.

I’ll need to look into ways of removing as much stress from my life as possible.

And also, I’m really quite open to believing that this episode has a great deal to do with where my energy healing journey is at. Trying to explain to Western doctors that energy moves within my body, though, is like trying to explain the housing market to a fish.

And so I’m on my own, largely, on this journey.

They tell me my heart is well. They tell me my health is perfect.

This is good.

Now, all that is left to do is live my best life, and hold my beautiful fear in the palm of my hand.

I have you, fear. It’s okay.

I have you. xx

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Categories
Poetry

Soft Arms

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.

Categories
Life

Sacred Sorrow

I was on my knees, in the garden. If she was a person, we would have been forehead to forehead, and I would be whispering my sorry into her skin.

But she was not a person.

She was a plant.

One that was alive before I left for twelve days of holidaying, and dry as a crisp when I arrived home.

I could have cried. I’d planted her and one other, just before Christmas, forgetting that we’d be going away and there’d be no one home to water them. I thought about them often while we were gone, just hoping. They both died. It was too long in such dry hot conditions.

In the moment I sat with her whispering ‘sorry’, I felt her. It was a sacred sorrow in the air, beautiful and sad, slow and soothing, one that only a few years ago I wouldn’t have been able to feel.

There are many who would laugh at me for loving, connecting and understanding nature as deeply as I do. To me, everything is alive, and I try to treat all the living beings in my care with as much love as I would a human.

It is my way, to love those who cannot speak for themselves.

It is a beautiful life of the deepest connection.

It is pure. And it is right, for me.

Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Happy New Year

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

Categories
Life

Wishes

I’m on holidays in the middle of nowhere.

I have books.

I have my computer.

I have a heart that wishes for silence and the soft smiles of love.

I will sip some tea and close my eyes.

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Categories
Life

Scars

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.

Categories
Life

Merry Christmas

None of it makes a difference to me.

Some of you I barely know.

Some of you I have known and loved to the depths of my soul.

None of it matters.

Because each of you has my heart.

And each of you deserves to hear this on Christmas day:

Life is a journey.

You are not always going to get it right, and it is not always going to make sense.

But you will live.

Isn’t

that

wonderful?

I so adore you, bloggy friends.

Thank you, again, for allowing me to be as I am.

Merry Christmas.

Love, Brooke.

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

The Echos of Love

The echos of love

will unravel your soul.

Let them.

Photo by luizclas on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

I Miss You

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