Bravery
is born
on the tender tears
of loss and disappointment.
Keep stepping.
You are so loved.
Tag: Support
Categories
Bright New Day
I send my heart
to those in pain.
Let me sit beside you in the dark.
Let me remind you:
darkness is the ship
to a bright new day.
Categories
The Absolute Truth
I know the words I’ve spoken are true;
they have been wider and further than the ordinary kind.
Those words of the heart that stretch across souls, here they are: truth sending forth her deepest moan.
The absolute truth is unmistakable.
I know
I know
the absolute truth.
The horrible beautiful: it is the ache our soul knows and understands as our connected truth.
What could be beautiful about war, you might ask? I ask the same question myself, every single day. It is beyond painful what is occurring in the world at this time, and so many of us would do just about anything to take the pain away from our beautiful Ukrainian friends.
Ah. You saw it there, didn’t you. The beautiful part? You saw it right there in the love.
And that is what I mean about war, how it’s both beautiful and horrible at the same time. War opens hearts by breaking them. It shows us just how important we are to each other, and it shows us just how deep our human connection goes. We grow more beautiful as a collective in times of pain.
I know few would ever ever choose war.
I would never ever choose war.
But I absolutely choose the togetherness. The signs I’ve seen all over the world declaring:
My goodness, I choose that kind of beautiful.
My goodness, I choose that for humanity.
Shine on, beautiful humanity.
We are with you, darling Ukraine.
Categories
A Simple Wish
I open my soul again and again.
Has my heart been heard this time?
So quietly it speaks for fear of breaking.
Hear me, please.
I may not carry the right words, always.
But my heart is pure,
my wish is simple.
To love, is all I wish.
To give
and to know
that I have lived in the world well.
Have I lived in the world well?
Have I lived?
Categories
I Will HoldYou
I will hold your ache in loving arms.
I will be the faith you have lost in the world.
I will shine a light on your breaking heart,
that you may hand stitch the truth
into the fabric of your soul
and know it is safe
to feel.
I will love you.
All the broken you wish not to see,
I will hold you.
I will hold you, love.
I was in tears this morning, bouncing on my fit ball in front of the TV at my new favourite time of day (4AM).
I was watching the world news.
Small children were being handed over a fence to soldiers at the airport in Kabul, thankfully with no idea there is a better life for them out there somewhere.
And then there was me.
So small in the world, thinking of my own beautiful children tucked neatly, safely, away in their cosy beds.
I felt helpless.
I wanted to take all those beautiful people in Afghanistan under my wing and hold them there for a while.
I couldn’t.
I have no control over the mental state of the terrorists of the world, or the mental state of their fathers before them. Fathers who were taught by their fathers that love looked like fear. Fathers who passed this very fear onto their sons, and so on.
I have no control over the pain of these poor darling humans in Afghanistan, just trying to live.
But I have this blog.
I have my words and I have my heart.
And maybe I can’t make a difference for those poor people, but if you are reading this, and feeling in need of some love…I can make a difference to you.
So here I say this:
Thank you for being alive.
For being unique and wonderful you.
For being human enough to have bad days.
And for the strength I know you’ll find tomorrow.
I hope today is beautiful for you and I hope you remember the sun isn’t far away if it’s not.
Because even when the darkness of the world takes over, there is always something beautiful to find among the rubble.
This is my reminder to myself.
And this is my love letter to you.
So much love and strength to you all, my beautiful bloggy friends.
Thank you for being such a big part of my sun for so many of my days.
And so, life goes on.
xx Brooke
In my softness I hold this gift, for you.
A small slice of home,
and a tiny sun to shine
only on you, sweet friend.
This rain will pass,
it will pass on through the air.
And in your eyes I will find
the joy
lingering,
calling from the horizon of you.
And in my eyes, the shine of knowing.
Knowing that rain built the very rainbow
that now shields you, for life.
Knowing you always were okay.
Every moment.
Safe.
Loved.
And on your way.
It has been fourteen days and the wind has brought me here.
What happened was quite accidental (but then, is anything ever accidental in the universe?) Rather than my plan expiring as I thought it was going to (for reasons long and complicated) it has rolled over for another year.
For a moment, when the ghastly realisation was made, I thought to approach wordpress and tell them, ‘Thank you, but I’m done, here.’
I never did do that. I never did pick up the phone.
I put this down to orders of the wind. The sway of the universe whispering me to stay just a little while longer. So, here I am, writing these words–half wondering why, half quite sure that there is nowhere else I’d rather be.
Why is it that there are so many segments of us, and why is it that not all segments of us want equally?
Some pieces of me want to be heard, to be known, to be understood and validated by like minded souls who feel a little like they’re swimming around in the ever spinning washing machine of life. Other parts of me want to hide. To never be seen. To only be known by the quiet that surrounds me, the quiet that I am.
I know I must write to experience myself truly.
I know I must create in order to find home.
What else do I know?
I know I’ll always be asking questions that make me feel a little lonely.
I know I’ll always think I know the answers until I, once and for all, understand that there is no one answer. Only the next question, the next step, the next choice.
The wind has brought me here.
And here, in this moment, I am.
If she could hold the world with all her heart.
If she could soften the growls of the wildest of them,
she would.
Oh, she would.
Oh, she would.
brooke-cutler.com 