Categories
Life

To Be

I’ve come to realise that creativity is just the art and flow of being yourself. There’s really not a lot more to it than that.

At its core, creativity seems to be made of the absolute depth of who we are. And the depth of who we are is always waiting, somewhere beneath the surface, to be shared in its most resonant form. (I believe this is true for every human being. Not just those who are considered creative types.)

For me, the purest form my creativity takes is music. My voice, in particular, seems an extension of the calming, soothing essence that naturally seems to spill from the deep, internal parts of me…and so my music always does seem to reappear in my life, no matter how far I stray from it.

For a lot of years I judged myself (my voice, my performance capabilities) based on what others were doing with their own musical talents. Somewhere in my teen years I grabbed a hold of the idea that, although my talent was constantly being validated, I didn’t have a voice that could compare to a real singer. According to young human me, real singers had a range that reached far beyond the heights that my limited range could. Real singers were perfect, never to stray a note in pitch at all.

How sweet it is to have found the most beautiful new gift of evolved perspective when it comes to my music: that being…my music is my essence. Unique and beautiful, and only mine, never to be compared to any other. My voice and my music are here to achieve their own purpose. And this purpose has nothing to do with an out of this world range or perfectly crafted technique.

There may be singers who use a wider range of skills to express their musical essence in order to thrill…but to thrill is not what I am here for. I am here to express the depths of my heart. I am here to heal with my voice and perhaps to bring peace, calm and emotion to those who connect with my music, writing and creativity. How beautiful, to finally come to know this of myself.

And so I continue to release my musical essence as it is.

No more excuses.

No more foolish voice within trying to compare my musical self with others.

They are all beautiful fruits to be savoured and cherished in the fruit bowl of musical life. I am a different fruit, who finally understands that apples and oranges never will compare.

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

The River I Am

The river I am.

I fall in love with the next creative thing,

and there I stay for a while (but not forever.)

When I create, I flow, I cannot be boxed.

I am sometimes a writer. Sometimes a musician. Sometimes a painter. Sometimes a poet.

But I am never just one thing, not for too long.

I am the river I am.

Always drifting, always changing.

Not neat and tidy (how hard it is for them to understand.)

Just the river I am the river I am.

The river I am.

Photo by Kamil Rybarski on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Unravelled

Music brought me undone again, today.

Unravelled. Beautifully. Thoroughly.

And though it’s not a surprise that music can so easily undress my soul, it is often a surprise to feel the way it surges and dances through my body.

How it grabs hold of my belly, my arms, my legs, and drags itself upwards.

How it grounds me. So deeply, so powerfully I could never fly away.

I don’t know why this happens to me.

All I know is that it is profoundly beautiful.

And I’m grateful.

I’m really so far beyond grateful.

Categories
Music

Sneak Peak- Humanity

Hello my sweet bloggy friends.❤️

Given I share so much of my creative journey with you, I thought it would be so super special to share with you my latest song writing project.☺️ (Yes- that’s my 17 year old piano. Aww. ❤️)

I’m halfway through writing this one, and so far it’s been a lot of fun to write. I love digging into the darker energies of humanity to see what comes up: song writing is such a wonderful way to really yank out the emotional weeds, so to speak. 😂

I have no idea where this one is going to go from here, but I suppose I’ll find out soon.

HUMANITY

Lyrics:

V-1. I see your smiling face, but I know your fall from grace, you pick the pieces up and hide them in the shade of things unseen. Oh yes, I know you well, the dark within your shell, the lies you tell yourself to make it all okay.

So set fire to the good girl inside, and be all you want to be. Don’t disguise the pain in your eyes, the stories untrue: you’re not the only one with secrets.

C- Humanity, oh melt me with the whispers of your blue melody, a symphony of secret wishes: life unseen, hearts unclean, humanity, humanity, humanity. ✨

So much love.

xx Brooke

Categories
Life

What Matters Most

I’ve been loving the chance to melt into human stories again. And music. My goodness, how it feels to connect to that deeper place within and melt into the sweet symphony of another.

These past few months have seen me dipping in and out of the great creative loves of my life: writing and music. I can’t remember a time in my life when I was without them, and I’m so terribly glad for that. A soul merging with life itself. Surely that’s what creativity and self-expression are—at least, that is what they are to me.

I’m wondering why my soul has drawn me back to music so strongly at this time in my life. Why it’s chosen to show me the true effects music has on my body. Why it’s chosen to speak to me through the musical stories I tell and hear.

I don’t suppose it matters why or when.

I’m grateful to have found my whole heart again.

That’s what matters most to me.

acoustic guitar adult chain city
Photo by Caio on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Poetry

I Am The Air

Music is the wind,

and I am the air.

And we gracefully dance,

and we blissfully play,

and we claim our place

within the fabric of

the other

until we are one.

man wearing denim jacket singing on stage
Photo by Eric Esma on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Life

Piano

I’ve just done some counting. My absolute least favourite thing.

And according to my calculations, I’ve had my piano (a digital piano) for seventeen years.

Seventeen years.

There was a moment a few weeks ago when it didn’t turn on. My stomach fell, and in that moment I had an entire conversation with myself.

It was like the life of the piano flashed before my eyes.

All the songs we’d written together.

All the tears I’d cried as she helped mend my broken hearts.

What if she was gone?

If she didn’t turn on.

I realised I’d still have my voice to create music, and that thought soothed me.

But my goodness I was pleased ‘my baby’ turned on eventually.

Boy, was I ever pleased.

Categories
Music

Rushing Lightness

I’ve been melting into music today.

Or music has been melting into me, it’s really hard to say what’s happening exactly.

It’s the most beautiful feeling, though, the way music occasionally moves through me like the wind. I say occasionally because the feeling of rushing lightness isn’t always there when I listen to music.

Only sometimes.

Like today.

And my goodness it was all the lovely things.

I’ve needed a bit of lightness in the face of all the dark of late, and I sure did find that shine today.

In the music.

Sigh.

Of course I found it in the music.

woman in black sexy top
Photo by Marcus Vinícius A. Ribeiro on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

Categories
A Blog a Day in May

Music: The Most Beautiful Dimension

I’ve just been at the Piano.

I’d like to tell you a story about that, actually. How my piano came to be my ultimate happy place (and healing tool, you might say.)

It’s in my soul, I think. Music. It’s the place I go to escape the world when it gets too noisy, and it’s absolutely the place I go when I need to re-make sense of the world around me.

I suppose you might say I had quite an explosive childhood— and when I say explosive, of course I’m being a bit dramatic (lol). All I mean by ‘explosive’ is that I was a highly sensitive child, and although the world was all sorts of fun and wonderful, my sensitivity sometimes got to me. When the teacher shouted at the kid in the next seat: it wasn’t the kid that felt the brunt of that rage. It was me. I felt it all.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, I needed an outlet, a way to remove the yuck of a world that somehow seemed so much bigger than me. I needed a night light. A safety blanket to catch the waves of emotion, especially the ones that didn’t belong to me.

I still remember asking Mum: ‘Please. Can I have piano lessons?’ to which the reply always came, ‘Brooke. We don’t have a piano.’ Of course, I knew that. But my heart felt like it was being called to. It felt like I just needed to play. I don’t really have the words to explain the pull of such a deep need, but it was there and it never went away until that one special day. My fourteenth birthday, I think. The day I got my first keyboard.

Well. I was beside myself. Here I was, surrounded by lashings of colourful paper, staring at the one thing I intuitively knew I needed. I quickly taught myself to play, which was really just me tinkering away until what I was playing became something that resembled a tune. Soon I was writing songs. When I wrote, I said all the things my heart needed to say, I just let it all go. Whatever wanted to come out. I let it be.

And it felt good. It felt like a wooshing tunnel of wind rushing through me, taking with it all the angry, the sad, the tension. When I played— when I wrote— a new part of me came to life. The right part of me.

The true part of me.

It’s not surprising to me, when I look back, that most of my songs were written when I was in my teenage years, a time of hormones and boys and tears. (Oh, gosh. All the tears.) Those years were a time of absolute truth. A time of boundless dreams, but also a time where the world really could have ended if I happened to be ‘spoken’ to by a teacher that really didn’t know that I was a crier.

When those things made my world explode: I escaped. Into my music, into the wave of beautiful that sang into my bones. And that’s just all sorts of magic to me. That still is all sorts of magic.

My first love. My piano.

Okay. 🙂 Well, that’s enough sop for day two, I suppose. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

I hope.

xx

selective focus photography of piano keys
Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

 

 

Categories
Twelve Days of Christmas

The Language of a Soul

It’s the eleventh day of Christmas and I’m listening to music.

Beautiful music.

It sends my spirit into the sky.

It turns my body into love.

Beautiful music—

language of my soul.

How I adored you, on the eleventh day of Christmas.

photo of a boy listening in headphones
Photo by Jonas Mohamadi on Pexels.com

 

Text placeholder (1)