Categories
Poetry

I Am Loved

There you are

behind a soft, uncertain smile,

surprised that you are loved.

You are loved.

It is your expectation

that has made it seem not so.

You see the world and ask it to hold you

as you wish to be held,

and yet this is not the way life works.

Life will hold you as it holds you

so that you may learn

and grow

and be.

Love is born in the quiet room

between expectation and reality.

Hold yourself in your quiet

and you will finally say:

I am loved.

I am loved.

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

Categories
Fable

Perfect Mirrors

Sun and Moon sat beneath the willow tree, a picnic for two: a beautiful picture of one. Moon shining white on the river. Sun splaying gold on the rippling blue.

‘I miss you, Moon,’ said Sun, as he sipped tea and watched a fish flip into the glistening air above the river.

‘But I’m right here, Sun,’ smiled Moon, ‘And I’m always always in your heart.’

‘Well, why do I miss you, then? When you’re gone, why do I miss you so damn much?’

‘You don’t miss me, Sun. You miss you.’

‘Now you’re just being silly,’ said Sun as he tossed a rock into the river with a plump old splash.

‘It’s true,’ Moon smiled the glorious smile of all the world. ‘Have you not noticed, Sun, that when we laugh together you laugh just as much at yourself as you do me?’

‘Umm, I’ve not quite thought of it that way.’

‘And have you thought that maybe your love for me, is actually here to show you what your love for you looks like?

‘Moon?’

‘Yes, Sun?’

‘I love me an awful lot, don’t I?’

‘Yes Sun, you do,’ Sun and his sweet silence fell around her like the warmest hug.

Best friends, perfect mirrors.

There to help each other light the world.

Categories
Poetry

Soon

I know you hear them.

The bells that ring for you

sing for you

bring for you

the stepping stones

of destiny.

What if I were to tell you

it’s all much easier

than you think?

What if I were to tell you

the search is over,

and the bells are coming

to you?

You would finally breathe again,

wouldn’t you.

You would finally see

that what you were searching for

was the quiet

you need

to hear the bells

and follow the call.

Soon, you will hear them

loud and clear.

Soon, sweet human.

Soon.

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
Poetry

Friends

Shining friends of mine.

They are the sun,

and I am the flower

blooming

in the golden fields

of happily ever after.

Categories
Life

Storytime

‘Look, Sun! The humans are telling stories again,’ said Moon as she picked through the glimmering blue ripples at her feet, sorting each loose shard into piles of keep or discard.

‘Oh goody! You know how I love storytime,’ said Sun, as he slid off the swing and left it to dangle between the car cloud and the witch cloud.

‘Oh, Sun,’ Moon’s heart fell as her eyes drifted back to the group of humans gathered below. ‘Today, the humans are talking about our beautiful friend, Raven. But instead of seeing his beauty like we do, they are frightened of him. They’ve put him in a little box called ‘Black magic and death.’  

‘Well, why would they do a ridiculous thing like that, Moon? Raven is no different than Cat, or Dog, or Fish. The humans have put them in the safe, family, home box.’

Moon smiled gently into Sun’s eyes.

‘Sun, humans tell stories for all sorts of reasons. And often the stories they tell hide the truth of what actually exists in front of them. When we look at Raven, all we see is a beautiful bird, because we’ve never put Raven in the box of black magic and death. The humans can’t help but see him differently, because that’s the box they were told he belongs in. ‘

Sun gazed at the woman that gently glimmered before him. How he loved her for the new eyes she had given him, and even though he didn’t know how he knew, every storytime brought them closer to seeing the truth of their own shared story box.

brown book page
Photo by Wendy van Zyl on Pexels.com

Categories
Inspiration Life

My Authentic Self

For so many of my adult years, I wanted to know myself.

Growing up, I’d heard there was such thing as a person knowing themselves and, truthfully, I was envious of all those who did.

When I thought of what it meant for a woman to know herself, in my mind I saw strength. I saw opinion. I saw a woman in charge, a statue of clarity in a crumbling world.

I didn’t think I was any of those things.

I still don’t. If I know anything of myself, it’s that I’m just a big kid that loves music and movies and coffee. And laughter, of course, because what would this world be without a good cackle.

Well.

I have the best news to share.

I am no longer seeking to know myself.

I am no longer seeking to be the woman that I always thought I should be by now.

All I truly crave in this big old universe of ours is to be free to be my authentic self.

To live my truth.

To fly above the path I choose, rather than simply walk it (because flying is way more fun, don’t you think?)

I don’t suppose I will ever truly know myself because, in this life, I will be constantly moving and changing to suit all my new moments.

All my new places.

All my new people.

So.

If I can be satisfied with the simple act of loving myself for who I am in any given moment, then that sounds pretty bloody great to me.

Bring on the next time I doubt myself.

Bring on the next time I cry into my tacos about completely ridiculous things.

Because gosh I love that girl.

And I love that she really doesn’t care if she knows herself, or not. xx

I was four, here. I haven’t changed much. 😂❤️

.

Categories
Life

Speak Your Truth

Speak your truth. It’s really quite simple when you think about it, isn’t it? So why, then, do we—us human folk—have so many issues following through? I don’t want you, for a moment, to think that this wisdom I’m about to share is coming from a place of knowing because it’s not. Part of my truth is this: I know nothing for certain. All I know is my world; who I was then, who I am now, and who I want to be.

I know music moves me. I know I love sunshine and rainbows, pig-tails and overalls. I know I feel the overwhelming need to offer the tradesman in the lounge room the left-over fried rice because I so strongly believe in the magic of kindness. And, most importantly…I know I’m finally ready to speak my truth.

About all of it.

To anyone who cares enough to listen and hear.

We’re all different, aren’t we, us small children in adult bodies (and I really do think that’s what we are.) We’re all so gloriously odd, so delightfully unique—how could we ever have one truth? Love, I’m pretty sure, is the one truth that we all share. So why do we insist on judging each other for daring to be different?

One size fits all? It’s a mentality that’s wounded me. And it’s a mentality that’s wounded us, as a people, I’m going to be so bold as to say. How many of us go through life being just exactly who we are, without being influenced by others? None of us. Not-one-of-us. This is the world we’ve been born into. A world that, thus far, has been content with the game of following the leader: fashion trends, popular music—one size fits all (or at least, large groups of us).

I understand that I’m not saying anything new, here. But this is something that’s been on my mind, of late, so I felt it was important to share with you all. Because a society that thinks from a limited perspective is a buzz-kill that I’m just not sure I want to do anymore. Guys. Isn’t life far too short to suffer from any kind of bullshit, at all? (Omg. Truth.)

It has taken thirty-five years for me to find myself beneath the mud of other people’s louder noises. And the scary thing is that unless the world unclogs its drain pipes, clears away some of the icky sticky mess I’ve been wading in for far too long…I’ll probably get lost again. And again. And again.

I sense things are changing, though. As a collective, we seem to be thinking about things a little more, acting with our hearts a little more, too, maybe. That’s been nice to see, and it gives me so much faith that us humans really can turn all the muddy business around. If we’ve been able to unite in the name of fashion and pop-culture, then we will unite in the name of humanity, of course we bloody will. We’ve got this. Let’s do it.

Let’s do it so that our kids won’t have to look around and wonder if they’re allowed to be who they really are. Let’s show them that they are allowed to speak their truth. Simple. Surely there is nothing more wonderfully wonderful than that kind of freedom.

xx Brooke

girl and boy sitting on grass field surrounded by trees
Photo by Victoria Borodinova on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

The Gift of Bother

Last week I was car-less.

Imagine.

A young Mum with things to do. Places to go.

Objects to move from one place to another.

Small children to move from one place…

To another.

What a bother.

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And then it struck me.

These legs of mine, these feet—

What marvellous things they are.

This body: flushed with life; me and the pram

Powering up hills, and down. Getting places

No engine necessary.

What a gift.

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Finding my feet again gifted me other things, too.

Like time.

Time to feel the papery trunks of nature’s watchmen,

Time to see—spindly leaves, dancing about in the open blue. Time to be

Me.

Free.

What a gift.

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But the very best of life on two legs was this:

Extra time with my babies— one and four years old.

Not three minutes together, like the car ride to kinder.

But twenty. Precious. Minutes.

Every day for a week.

All of us wide-eyed, as natures sweetest creations passed us by.

What a gift.

The gift of bother.

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