Life

Unrealistic Expectations

Never

would you ever expect

a block of chocolate

to fit into a jelly mould.

Humans.

Can’t live with ’em.

Can’t eat ’em.

Poetry

True Colour

We stand together

observing a leaf

as it floats in the pond

of life.

We watch its path

together,

and yet our eyes will

never

know the same leaf.

And isn’t

that

the true colour

of life.

Poetry

Shame

To cast stones.

To stare down.

To withhold words.

Or kindness.

Or love.

Shaming.

It’s a wonder it still exists,

given we’ve all made mistakes.

Given we’re all human, and all of us

different. And entirely imperfect.

Empathy is the answer.

It can often be found under

the rock of unconsciousness.

But we will find it again,

say the hopeful

weary travellers of society’s

broken road.

Life

Another Day in The Fruit Bowl

There is no doubt about it.

A pineapple is,

and always will be,

a pineapple.

It does not look like a peach.

It does not feel like a peach, or taste like a peach.

If you want a peach, pick a peach.

Unless of course you prefer pineapple,

in which case,

you know what to do.

Life.

Always just another day

in the fruit bowl.

Spiritual Awakening

The Secret Language Of Me

Well it’s not so secret anymore, now that I’m telling you about it, is it? The language that lives within me that I don’t even understand yet. But post spiritual awakening there has been a distinct shift in the way my body and brain process information, and it’s all so fascinating to me I thought I might share it with you all.

Some of you may remember the blog post I wrote a few months ago about the new way I’d begun to release stress, that being: I visualise a black cloud of gas (stress) streaming from each of the energy centres in my body while I meditate. This seems to both calm me and make my physical body lighter, and so I use this ‘visual’ method to help move stress and anxiety to the place they truly belong (cough: not within me.)

Another interesting language of me made a comeback today, after my initial discovery of it in the very early days of my awakening, that being a language of both visual and feeling elements mixed into one.

In the early stages of my awakening, I began to experiment with Tarot cards and was blown away by the fact that reading Tarot seemed to physically move energy to different places within my body in order to emphasise certain messages within a particular spread. For instance, if the spread was talking about a powerful person, the energy within my body would feel very heavy and low while I was trying to decipher the message. This added physical element seemed to give me more information about the message the cards were asking me to deliver, which was both super cool and pretty handy, indeed.

It was a similar visual/feeling team that made an appearance within my body today while I was speaking with my new post-relationship counsellor, a young woman who also seemed to know quite a bit about this new woo woo world I’ve been thrust into. I told her the whole story from start to finish, from awakening to marriage separation, and as we began the tennis match of a conversation, I realised that my brain was trying to work in a visual/feeling method, once again.

As I began to describe the issue at hand to the counsellor— one which has been causing me great distress and confusion of late—I saw a dirty brown colour surrounding a visual scene in my mind’s eye. I described it to the therapist as feeling  ‘dense and muddy’. This issue presented itself to me visually to my left, and down low (as if it were playing on a TV screen at my feet, just to the left of me.)

In the next instance, I compared this muddy issue with another scenario, and when I did, I instantly felt this as a lighter energy within my body (a little like the feeling of the wind that sometimes flows through me when I play or hear certain songs). The colour surrounding the visual of this scene was silvery-white— a fascinating contrast to the muddy scene I’d just experienced. This lighter scene appeared in my minds eye also, but to my right-hand side, and up high. (Thank goodness the therapist seemed well versed in talk of spiritual awakenings, otherwise, she might have thought I was a little bit (cough: completely) nuts, watching me point from left to right, down to up, trying to explain the invisible scenes laid out before me.

The interesting thing about this new me language is that it allows me a clearer picture of the way I feel about certain life events in comparison to each other. By adding a physical element to the scene I was describing, I found that I was able to gain a more accurate idea about how I really felt, and which issues I obviously need to work on some more in order to clear them up within me. Obviously, the lighter feeling felt better for me, and so I’ll now be able to go away and really look at how I might get more of my issues looking and feeling a little more like that.

Anyhow, I hope some of that makes even just a little bit of sense to you guys. You are more than welcome to think I’m absolutely nuts. If I wasn’t me, I’d think I was nuts, too, so you’re very welcome to swing that way if you’d like. Otherwise, this may encourage some you to pay a little more attention to the way that your own brains and bodies work together to help you deliver all your inner business into the outer world.

You never know what magic you might find under your own bonnet.

photography of women talking to each other
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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
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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
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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 *

 

 

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