Inspiration

I Am Free

Dear History,

You do not tell my heart what it knows.

I tell my heart what it knows.

I do not compare my story to others.

I do not play into stories of fear, or guilt, or shame.

I do not welcome your pre-made dysfunction into my time

or my space.

I want what I want, and I choose it.

With bravery. And without hesitation.

I have hushed my heart for the last time.

This time, I say: enough.

I am me.

I am free.

blonde hair blur daylight environment
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com
Life

Stuck

When I felt

the stuck of you,

I knew you needed

to move.

The mud in the air around you

as you tap

tap

tapped away

told the story of a stuck girl.

Getting the job done,

wishing you were anywhere else

but there.

I supposed

you must have spent days,

weeks,

months or years,

longing to flow

like the river you were born to be.

But instead,

you’ve been there.

In a state that outgrew you

long ago.

I wish I could tell you:

it’s okay to move.

Life

Keeping The Soft Girl

I had an epiphany today.

The soft girl.

She’s found the place she remembers, the place she knows she’ll never leave again.

Not for any job, not for any man.

Not for any worldly fear that really wasn’t hers to begin with.

Because once the wind finds a soul, there’s no stopping the current that swings it merrily along.

That wind.

There is no denying it.

There is absolutely no rationalizing it because there really is nothing rational about the greatest love that ever there was.

The love of a soft girl.

I won’t abandon her to the logical minds of others again. She’s far too lovely to be over thought, and over criticized by a world too afraid to believe in the magic at the very fingertips of us. The magic of more.

I believe in the magic of more.

And my heart, my soul, my soft girl—I promise I’ll never leave you again.

I promise that to you now, because now I know you.

I finally know you.

And that means that all along…

you and I were the ones that were truly meant to be.

woman turning around on green fields
Photo by Jackson David on Pexels.com
Life

The Ocean Of All Of Us

Do you feel it?

The song, dancing you into the breeze, can you sense it?

Changing your every thought, your every need?

It lives in the ocean of all of us.

It plays in the rivers of those who believe.

This wind, this sun, this freedom.

It is, and always has been, in the ocean of all us.

When you catch it, you will believe.

sunset sunrise sea horizon
Photo by Life Of Pix on Pexels.com
Life

Fragile Beautiful

The same pattern repeated itself over and over, in various ways.

And with each new scenario of social anxiety, a sense of unconscious shame was born and continued to grow.

I should have been able to call my friends without worrying that someone other than my friend would answer— we were teenagers. No one else my age seemed to have a problem with calling their friends. Everyone else was normal. (I wasn’t very normal at all.)

I should have been comfortable going to a new parents group to chat and compare notes over coffee— I’d had thirty-something years to learn how to be confident. Everyone else was crying out for a group to support them. (I was crying out for an excuse not to go.)

I was too sensitive. I was too weak. And because I was weak…I was ashamed of this me person who seemed somehow broken compared to the normal people who were unafraid of all the things that frightened me. 

Bugger-that.

How beautiful fragile I am.

How beautiful fragile I always have been.

Me who loves like the deepest ocean.

Me who was made this way so I could translate my heart into words.

So I could play and sing, and feel my music, not just hear it.

I was made this way because I was made this way.

Because I am fragile beautiful.

Because I am fragile-beautiful-me.

photo of heart shaped balloon
Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

Life

Then Is Gone. This Is Now.

Her words lumped in my gut like a blob of warm resentment.

I was late. By six-minutes.

I would be charged a full half an hour extra— her colleague had been unable to go to lunch until my arrival.

The blob grew thick within me.

Tears wobbled but did not fall.

Breath came, deeper than usual because I asked it to. Because I didn’t know what else to do with the blob she gave me.

She was right. These were the rules, however ridiculous.

The old me would have met this trigger with a puddle of me, and kept it brewing until tomorrow.

The new me saw the pointlessness of keeping the left-overs and asked my pain to disappear.

Perhaps she was only trying to save me money for next time.

And here was my brain, instantly turning her words into a beacon of shame.

Whatever the case, the moment has passed.

Then is gone.

This is now.

person holding hands
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

 

Life

For The Love Of Self

I love how deep this heart of mine goes.

I love that if I love you, you know just how much and why.

I love that my feelings shine into the midnight sky.

Some might call this: overly sentimental.

I call it: my gift to the world.

Shall we unwrap it together?

photography of two women sitting on ground facing on body of water

I love that I am always learning about life and love, and all the things that fill me with yes! 

I love that I am hungry. For everything. All of it.

Life.

Every moment.

Every day, even the grey ones.

Especially the grey ones, actually.

photo of rainbow under clouded sky

I love.

I love that I love.

I love that I love you.

I love that I love her, and him, and them, and that.

But I love that I truly love me, the most.

Because without loving me, I couldn’t love anyone else.

And what a horrible, terrible predicament that would be.

woman holding a heart shape light

 

* Thank you so much for sticking by me through the tough times, my beautiful friends.

I’m doing okay, despite the grey days. I’ve been trying to fill my own joy pots as much as humanly possible, but also…I’m trying to feel the rain, too. I sense it is important to let the rain come. So I am. Whenever it needs to.

Moment by moment, day by day, life is happening. And for now, I’m okay to roll with it. I can’t wait to fill you with some more often bright and shiny love hearts when this heart of mine is all patched up once again.

Until then…so much love, gang.

xx Brooke *

 

 

Photo 1 credit:

Photo by Luizmedeirosph on Pexels.com

Photo 2 credit

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

Photo 3 credit:

Photo by Renato Abati on Pexels.com