Categories
Life

Small Ball

Here I am again with nothing to say.

How often have I done this, since the birth of my blog? How often have I just been here because being anywhere else hasn’t seemed like an option? Many a time.

I feel as though, for a very long time, I’ve been in between here and there. Not quite knowing where here is, and not even willing to guess where there might be.

I get the distinct impression I am meant to find here and stay here, without even a thought or wondering of ‘there’. After all, when we get ‘there’ it will become ‘here’, just as today will always be today, and tomorrow will never come. (I wonder if that makes any sense at all. I am running on very little sleep. I do hope you will forgive me.)

All this rambling makes me think of a moment I had today as I sat upon a picnic rug in our yard, with my baby crawling around at my feet. In my left hand I held a large ball and in my right, a small ball. It occurred to me that without the presence of the other, neither could actually be called ‘small’ or ‘large’. The terms large and small are always relative to something else. How would I know I was holding a large ball if I’d never seen a small ball in my life? I marvel at the wonderful nerdy goodness of that.

And it makes me think of all the other ways us humans have framed our world in order to communicate clearly. What would happen, do you think, if every ‘large’ ball was just a ball? To take it even further, what would happen if every ball was nameless; just an odd sort of circular object that sat perfectly in your hands, without a preconceived idea or purpose. What might we think to do with it if its possibilities were not as clearly defined?

Gosh I’m rambling. I really don’t even know why, or what all this is about, so I will say goodnight. Goodness, I’m tired.

I hope the world is being kind to you, bloggy friends.

If not, I am sending my heart.

The sun will shine again.

I promise.

xx Brooke

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Categories
Poetry

Love Is

May they find the hours

of my love for them

strewn upon these coloured pages.

May their names shine with my love,

and may their eyes light

with the truth of all they are.

May these hours,

and these pages dear,

show my children that love is pure

beyond thinking.

Love is…

love

is.

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Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Motherhood

Motherhood has opened my heart in both expected and unexpected ways. It’s taught me that I never truly knew concepts such as shame or guilt before, or responsibility, or disappointment, or sorrow.

And I often get down on myself when I don’t get it right. When I snap at them for being children. When I’m too lazy to be the Mother I know I can be to them.

Then there was today. Today when a situation arose that put my parenting skills to the test, and they were met and exceeded, to my absolute delight.

I have to celebrate this beautiful victory with all of my heart. I have to love myself as much as I love my babies and say: Mum, you did a great job.

I am not perfect.

But today, I was a great Mum.

Who knows what I’ll be tomorrow.

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Day 27. True true love.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Beautiful, Tonight

I’m going to gift myself something beautiful, tonight.

I’m going to gift myself time.

I’ve been running on full speed, trying to be everything I can be, just in case I run out of minutes in my day.

Most days, as a Mum of three little ones, I do run out of minutes.

And energy.

So, tonight I will sit and breathe.

I’ll not need to go anywhere, I’ll not need to do anything.

All I’ll need to do

is be.

And the time starts…

now.

Day 20. Breathe
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Infinite

Love

the word

is not enough.

Love

the feeling

is infinite.

Day 17. To infinity.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Dancing Girl

She danced like no one was watching.

She went to that place where all artists go when they create.

She is my daughter and she is five, but actually she is ageless, and it was this beautiful, ageless essence that danced her.

We thought we were there to watch a busker play his peaceful guitar.

We weren’t.

We were there to watch her.

And to know it was a moment so precious that those of us who witnessed it won’t forget.

My darling girl.

She danced like no one was watching.

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Day 16. Magic.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Sunrise

On this tired night,

I know I have been blessed.

And so it is

I send a seed of this sweet day

into the arms of the sorrowful.

And I say to them:

take this day and make it yours,

then you will know the sunrise

every minute.

Such a beauty has been this day.

Rest is now.

Rest is now.

Day 13. Counting blessings.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Tomorrow

I’m the sole parent of three tiny humans, this weekend. It’s as exhausting as it sounds, but I have tea and I have chocolate.

And I’m watching Westside Story.

Sigh.

The baby will wake soon.

Tomorrow. xx

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Day 9. And sleep is suddenly perfect. And rest is suddenly gold.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Rest

Oh, dear rest.

How beautiful to touch your softness, so.

When I, the weary boned,

have assaulted this body

with your skeleton friend, exhaustion.

How sweet it is, this sigh of the deep.

How darling to fall to the earth

and know this motherly love

has filled my day to its gilded brim.

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Day Seven. Golden are the crops of weary season.
Categories
Life

Authentically Not Myself

I am authentically myself when I am not at all myself, and it is magical, beautiful, wonderful.

What do I mean by this? Well, I’m not sure. It’s a little too obscure to understand or explain, but I’m certain you’ve felt it. I’m certain you’ll know what I mean when I tell you.

I’ve been reading the BFG to my son. He’s seven, and the best, and so naturally I want to give him the most beautiful experiences life has to offer. Reading is one of those experiences, and the magic of Roald Dahl is…well, it’s magic. There’s no real way to capture that feeling, for me.

And when I read this beautiful story to him, I so often find myself transformed. Every night I become the BFG. I put on my unusually accurate english accent and off I go. I am the BFG (or am I Roald Dahl, it’s hard to really say.)

It’s what I loved so much about acting. Embodying and expressing energies that are not my own is so intoxicating I could easily become addicted to the very thing. The deep booming cutesy tone that flies from my mouth every time the BFG speaks to Sophie: it fills my whole body, it resonates down to the bone.

I so love it.

I so love being authentically me, without being me at all.

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