Categories
Life

Insomnia

I lay in bed last night, at 4am, thinking of the tortured artist, thing.

We feel so deeply, us creative folk, and therefore, we capture the world in its fullest expression.

Which is beautiful. Really, ice-shatteringly beautiful.

But we are often not understood, at best. And at worst…we are grossly misunderstood, usually by the logically minded folk of the world, who do not (perhaps cannot) see the world the way we do.

Sometimes we are judged as weak, overly sensitive; irresponsible, messy. A lonely human, this does make, at times.

A lonely human this does make, at times.

I remember sitting at my piano as a nineteen year old, feeling the world in all its depth; the beauty of the autumn leaves outside the window, a huge comfort as I sat and wondered about my place in the world.

These creative eyes.

They make everything a little more beautiful. A little more horrible. A little more alive.

I’m grateful, for them, I am.

I’d imagine all the tortured artists out there were grateful, even the ones who battled to a sometimes tragic end.

Misunderstood, they were, and a little bit lonely, maybe.

A little bit scared of the depths that dragged them beneath the surface, on occasion, maybe.

Especially at 4am, and the very next day.

Photo by Anthony Shkraba on Pexels.com
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
Music

Friday Night Music Night

Hello my lovely bloggy friends!

This is just a quick pop in to let you guys know I’m starting a new ‘thing’ on Instagram/IGTV, running along the same lines as the book chats I was doing a few weeks ago, but less boring. (Ha ha ha- no need to bring your pillows this time. ☺️)

This time it’s a little less geared towards writers, and a little more in line with what actual humans can relate to.

Because this time I’m talking about music!

I’ve uploaded the first video already for those of you who are interested. You can find it in the IGTV tab on my Instagram page. _brookecutler_.

Other than that, it’s business as usual here in this very bloggy land of ours.

Ps: I hope you guys are all going okay. ❤️

Categories
Poetry

Musical Love

Love.

The great creator of song.

Without love

there is no heartache.

Without heartache

there are no scars

to weep music

from the soul.

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