Categories
Poetry

Every Drop

You think you are one thing.

You are not one thing.

You are the entire ocean.

Take your time,

be every drop.

Categories
Life

All Of Me

This morning, I stood at the sink and cried.

Years ago, quite by accident, and quite without me knowing why…I stopped crying after a lifetime of being a human river. I didn’t notice it happening, it just happened and there was nothing for me to do but keep living, wondering if this was the me I was meant to be all along.

I now know the lack of tears meant that I had lost myself. That I had been suppressing my emotions, either for the comfortability of those around me (to fit in) or just because the difficulties of life had closed my heart in order to keep me safe.

This morning, as I slushed around in that pile of dishes, I felt my wholeness again. For those of you who are new to my beautiful bloggy family, this reawakening of my spirit/senses began about two years ago, I’d say, and every so often I find myself reaching new milestones of truth, you might call them.

This morning delivered one of them, and every beautiful current of the river that once moved me was back, if only for a few moments. I’d just been told a story. A very sad one. A story of a man who had lost his wife and child in a car crash many, many years ago.

I cried those tears as though I was that man. I felt those tears as though I was that man. I ached for his pain. I cried for him.

And I knew it was right.

And I knew that, once again, I was all of me.

Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Pitchfork

Yes, you could judge them.

But if I were you,

I would breathe first.

Would you like to be judged

for being

just the way that you are

because you are that way?

To judge another

is to place shame

in your own hands.

This I have learned,

and continue to learn,

the hard way.

One day, I will 

be free.

And so will those

I continue to judge.

person wearing black top
Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

What Really Matters

What really matters

is love.

In the end,

love is all that matters.

The end.

🌿

(This is a beautiful, beautiful short film. Please watch it all the way through if you feel so inclined- and then send it to every single person you know. And if the writer and producers of this film ever see these words: I see you. And thank you.)

www.youtube.com/watch

Categories
Life

We are One

open.spotify.com/track/6EPyl8kU0dPIgoLCIuh25F

It’s important to me at this time (and, in fact, forever and always) to shine a hope for peace and equality for all.

We are one.

And though this song sings an Australian story, I sing it to the world. Because I am me, I am not on any one side; to me there are no two sides.

Just one.

Humanity.

Today, we speak for our beautiful black lives: who matter now, and always have mattered. Tomorrow, perhaps we might speak for each and every life touched by the closed eyes (and heart) of intolerance.

For the less obvious among society who have been oppressed and eye rolled entire lifetimes long, often suffering in silence:

* the sensitives and empaths of the world.

* the quirky/odd ones.

* the wildlings.

* the nerds.

Mainstream society is very good at identifying the obvious marginalised groups and fighting for their inclusion and acceptance.

It’s time, though, to dig deeper by asking:

Who am I intolerant of?

And why?

Are they not human, also? Like me?

We are all worthy of being seen through neutral eyes, and we are all worthy of forgiveness and being held through our darkest days.

Embracing our individuality, and separating from the rigid judgements and expectations of mainstream culture, ironically, seems to be the way to remember we are one.

Being kind to ourselves, and our fellow humans as we work through our kinks, might also be a lovely thing.

So much love, my beautiful bloggy friends.

I’ll stop with my little bursts of unsolicited opinion, now, because I trust that everything in life happens for a reason. I trust that everyone finds the exact experiences they need in order to shine exactly the way they were always meant to.

Why, then, did I post this particular contradictory blog post?

Only the wind knows that, I suppose.

xx Your girl always, Brooke. xx

Categories
Life

Milk and Honey Wonderland

To be human

is to play the game of life

like flashing storms;

like unbridled children:

electric, unpredictable, messy.

Until finally, we hear the whisper

of a milk and honey wonderland

called home.