Categories
Poetry

As She Will

The sun is one

but never can shine

as one.

Her rays will splay,

and always touch the world

(in slices)

as they do.

How they splay

is a question for each new moment.

Who they will touch,

and in what way:

undiscovered.

The sun will shine as she will.

The sun will always shine

as she will.

Categories
Poetry

Grey

Shall I sing to you only of sun shiny days?

I cannot.

The clouds are grey over the meadow

and the rain falls fat and cold

upon the emerald green.

I will not tell you the sun is shining.

It is not.

The day is grey.

It is grey, and it is beautiful.

So incredibly beautiful, you see.

Categories
Life

Tulips

How lovely the humans are

as the tulips tip toe around them.

Categories
Life

Sky Tears

Today

there is a deep sadness in the rain.

I feel it in my belly,

and I ask it to be kind

to those who feel the pain of the sky

when it cries.

Categories
Life

Into The Web

When the morning comes

she will spin into the web of it all,

and she will make the great adventure

across the weave of the day.

Categories
Life

The Walk

The walk was all the lovely things.

I bet you didn’t think you’d be coming with me.

Well.

Here we are.

Each of us in the bush.

Side by side, a million miles between us.

Happy weekend, friends.

All the love hearts.

xx Brooke

Categories
Life

Regeneration

I’m avoiding doing the dishes. It’s not the first time I’ve written those words on here, and it won’t be the last because I often avoid doing the dishes if I can help it. Sometimes, I can turn the experience into something beautiful, and by that I mean I put on some wonderful music and disappear into the invisible place that only I know. That’s when doing the dishes suddenly becomes the most wonderful thing ever.

I have nothing to say, and yet I felt a strong pull to connect with you all: these days, for me, that usually means that I either have something to say that someone needs to hear, or…one of you has something to say that I need to hear. I wonder which one it will be? Perhaps both.

Isn’t it beautiful how life regenerates? I’m going through a transition phase at the moment (which I’ll share more about in the coming months) and where it frightens me so terribly to be in this place…I also feel a sense of excitement and new life breathing into my world. It makes me think of my trees. How often I’ve wandered along my walking track, gazing up at the hanging bark. This shedding always seems such a natural process and one that is entirely welcomed by the tree and its natural surroundings. What does this shedding mean for that particular tree, I always wonder. It means the shedding of the old. The beginning of a new life.

Unlike trees, humans seem to resist the shedding of our old bark, don’t we, usually because we’re afraid of something (sometimes because we’re afraid of everything.) I get that. I’ve been doing it my whole life. But how I long to be a tree and let the bark fall without question, fully trusting that the new bark will grow back stronger and better than ever. And that’s where that frightening word comes into it. Trust. Trusting in the unknown means relinquishing control, and that is not an easy thing for a human being to do, especially not this human being.

But If my trees can do it, then by golly gosh, my friends— so can I.

Bring on my new bark, I say.

close up photo of green leaves
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

The Birds

The birds are highly sensitive this morning, and so am I.

Often we sing at the same time, me and the birds— it’s so completely wondrous to observe. We’re the same, humans and nature, it’s just that humans are quite often too driven by ego to admit that we can learn from anything smaller than we are, especially if that something speaks a different language than we do. Like the birds.

Speaking of wondrous, and speaking of birds: I saw the most beautiful—and quite frankly, bizarre— thing, the other day. I was driving back from dropping my little boy at kinder, and upon entering our court I noticed a lady tossing bread onto the nature strip. That’s when I saw the Rosella. It was sitting on her shoulder, and it was-not-moving. Not an inch. As I drove away from the two of them, the thoughts began to circulate. I have never seen a human taking a bird for a walk. Is it her pet bird, or has she found a way to connect with wild birds? Oh my goodness me. Either way, it was one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever witnessed.

I believe we all have these abilities, to harness our sensitivity to the point of a deeper connection with ourselves and the world around us. I’m starting to wonder if the key is: exploring our sensitivity levels and learning how to master them so that we might use them in more confident and efficient ways.

In my case, it’s noticing when my energy fluctuates with every hormonal surge and learning to just roll with the wacky emotions that emerge, rather than acting upon, or judging myself for, the way they enter the world. It’s about noticing that when the birds are loud, my heart is too (and why might that be, I wonder) and how can I use this sensitivity to make the world as beautiful as the birds do?

Life is such a full thing, and yet too often we live on the surface of it, forgetting the multiple layers of magic that we really and truly are.

That’s why I’m searching for my keys and trying to make sure that this ‘sensitive’ superpower of mine works just so. Because life is way too short not to walk around with a bird on your shoulder. I mean, really. Guys. Surely you all agree with me on that one. 🙂

bird perched on person s hand
Photo by Nicolas Savignat on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

The Ocean

Lay down beside me.

Run your fingers over mine in the sand.

Knot the long grass.

Kiss my warm cheek.

And when the sun sleeps

so will we.

Until the ocean wakes us.

Categories
Life

The Puzzle

I believe the world is a puzzle, and we are the pieces.

All of us.

The trees.

The rivers.

You.

Me.

These guys. (Awwwww. xxx)

close up photo of a hand holding three white kittens
Photo by Peng Louis on Pexels.com

 

But no, I mean really. That’s what I believe.

We’re a puzzle.

And though we don’t often tend to think of it…

we all have our own special reason,

our own unique connector points

to make the world exactly the way it’s meant to be.

person holding save our planet sign
Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

 

Maybe it’s time to be brave, and ask out loud:

What does my puzzle piece look like when it’s home?

What makes it bop, and zing, and burst with yes!

Most of us have at least some of the answers figured out.

Just maybe not all of them, quite yet.

Because, actually, we’ll always be still learning, right?

light sunset people water
Photo by Negative Space on Pexels.com

 

We are all unique.

And if we really are a puzzle (which I truly think we are, by the way)

we need to be our uniqueness.

Otherwise, we won’t fit.

And if we don’t fit—

The puzzle will start to look a bit like…umm, yeah.

(Never mind. We’ve still got this, guys.)

red and three blue jigsaw puzzles
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

 

We all have a yearning inside of us

that tells us, quite firmly, where and how we belong

in the puzzle of us.

And yet many of us deny we can hear it,

for fear of being judged by the people who deny the puzzle exists.

(Those people, I suspect, keep their eyes closed for a reason.)

active ash cloud ashes blaze
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

This is the start; I can feel it in all of my bones.

I don’t know where my connector points are.

I don’t know how to slot myself comfortably into place.

But I also know that doesn’t matter, for now.

The main thing is…I know about the puzzle.

And knowing about the puzzle has shown me

that we are all on our way to something good.

man building architect joy
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com