Life is a story I tell myself.
And I daren’t tell it wrong
for fear of the unhappy ending.
But what is unhappy?
And what is an ending
if a beginning is found
on the other side
of each new end?
Categories
Each New End
Tag: Spirit
The wind, I think,
is peace.
The breath of the earth.
The song of the trees.
And we will bathe in her softness,
today,
and every day.
The wind, I think,
rolls all days into one.
May she catch us
and show us
the truth in her song.
Categories
Soft Things
She floats on the wind
as they stare.
And they will never know her
as their own.
Never see her truth
as anything other
than feathers in the garden.
Yet, she knows herself, dear.
And she knows, darling softness,
that a field of daisies
and daffodils
and dandelions waits for her
somewhere.
Where the soft things come together
at last.
Categories
Kissed
How beautiful to see your tears
and know your soul
has been kissed
by music.
Categories
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.
Categories
I Am Home
I’ve lit a candle.
Classical piano plays.
I have coffee sitting beside me.
I am home.
Oh my goodness I am home.
The world is busy. The noise, sometimes far too loud.
But there is such beauty and softness in the quiet places.
Let the quiet places sing to your heart, always.
It is my dearest wish for you.
My dearest wish.
All my love.
xx Brooke
Categories
The Ocean
It never ceases to amaze,
the ocean of life;
how wide it must be.
If I can see but one river
from this, my dainty hill.
One glimpse of time,
one slice of space,
what else must the ocean be?
Categories
Flowers
The flowers opened with the rooster’s crow and closed as the sun went down. Everyone called them weeds, and that’s what they were if you were someone other than me.
Whatever their name, they woke and fell asleep with the sun, like us, and that was just so beautiful to me.
I’ve lived in several houses where this sort of ‘weed’ rose upon the front lawn like a problem to be dealt with, and though the grass was neater upon their official doom…it was never quite the same. Never as alive. Never as lovely, such is the vibrance of dynamic life.
And so it was that I loved that lawn much more when the weeds were alive.
Because Shakespeare was right.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Categories
The Soft Girl Again
It’s hard to tell what brings me back to the Soft Girl. She’s certainly not always around, especially not these days of nappies and loudness and putting out the emotional spot fires of small children. But today she came back.
I found her in the music again as I drove back from the shops. Music has the peculiar ability to remind me of the beautiful people and times that have touched my soul, and when it does…the Soft Girl is right there. Opening the door. Letting it all flow in.
Why did I decide to call my spirit the Soft Girl, you might ask? Well, it’s because thats the way my energy feels when it moves within me. Soft. Like a gentle breeze blowing through me.
When the Soft Girl is around I feel calm and I feel peace.
And that’s all I’ve been looking for my whole life long.
Peace. That’s all.
That’s all.
And now I’m the closest I have been to having it, because I finally know that that is what I’ve been searching for all along.
I’m so grateful for the gifts meditation and yoga have brought to my life. I’m still unsure what it’s all for, and even what it is that I’m meant to do with these new and beautiful feelings, but I’m starting to gather the clues. And they are leading to new and delicious places, sometimes expected, sometimes a complete surprise.
I’m off to bed now, I’m exhausted.
But I wanted you, my beautiful bloggy friends, to know that I adore you, and I hope each and every one of you is in your happy enough place.
Goodnight.
From me.
The Soft Girl.
Categories
Sweet Muse of Mine
Where do you go, sweet bell?
Where do you hide
when I long to feel your voice
sing through my bones?
I only know you;
the place I call home.
I only know you, dear constant voice
of heart,
of soul,
of love.
Oh.
But here you are again, little bird.
Here you are with the words I have missed,
the song I have so wished to hear on the wind.
Stay a while.
Please stay a while, sweet muse of mine.
brooke-cutler.com 