Life

Change

I’ve decided to surrender.

The universe has given me quite the kick up the bottom in the past year and reminded me of just exactly who I am and then some (and when I say, ‘and then some’, I mean AND THEN SOME.)

For instance, I was just out with my friend, the moon. A full moon tonight, which previously wouldn’t have phased me except now it does for reasons only known to the universe (and maybe the moon, and maybe the angels, and even aliens if you believe). Because If the moon moves entire oceans…how did it take me so long to wonder what it does to me? And when it’s at its fullest, and its energy is at its most vibrant…what then? Have you noticed how a full moon changes you? If anything, it’s made me feel a little bit cheeky, tonight. (Uh, oh. The nutter girl will be writing this blog post, it seems. :P)

Earlier today I was standing at the kitchen sink, blissing out to music, gazing at a tree over the fence…and it occurred to me just how python-like the arms of it were: thick, muscular shaped things, twisted up and around and everywhere. Again I wondered. How did I miss that? Thirty-six years of looking at things made of plastic and glass and human, that’s how.

But the most shocking thing that I’ve missed—something that makes my heart cry just to think it—is the friendship that nature makes with itself. How did I miss the wonder of the trees and how they reach for each other over pathways, their leaves meeting only centimeters apart as if to touch fingers in the most delicate of ways?

How-did-I miss-it?

I was sleeping, that’s how. I was the bear that slept a thousand winters and woke up in a whole new wonderous world, and here I am now trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out just where and how I fit in.

So I’m deciding. I won’t be going back to sleep again— from now on I’ll be wide awake to the beauty of it all, no matter how many people think that I’m crazy for randomly loving trees so much. I’ll be deciding to live with more of my heart than ever before. I’ll be deciding to love as much as naturally flows through me, and if that means loving the stars and the moon and the sun a little more…then it’s happening. It’s happening, guys, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

Surrendering to ‘the flow of me’ means a few new things will be happening in my life, one of which you will very likely notice. I’ll be posting here as often as I feel called to post, from now on— and if that means posting more than once a day (like this) I might just do that.

Because just as the moon shines on the sea, and just as the trees go hand in hand…I write. It’s just the natural way of things.

Right. Did I hear someone say ‘cup of tea and a bickie’?

Why, yes. I think I did. xx

person holding turkish style tea bag tie
Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

 

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A Blog a Day in May

The Soft Girl Again

The soft girl spoke to me again.

She was quick, as usual, so quick I almost didn’t notice she’d come. But I caught her. Yes! And when I did, she spoke to me in moving pictures and silhouettes: a projected future scene, playing like a movie on the blank screen of my mind.

When her ‘flash’ of advice came I was on the couch, hugging my pink blankie and gobbling up leftover pizza. What songs might I play on my walk when it came time to brave the cold, I wondered. 80’s pop? Musical theatre? List by eclectic list rolled over in my musical mind’s eye, but a solid decision was yet to announce itself.

That’s when I heard her. Saw her.

Felt her.

And what did the soft girl whisper to me, you ask? She whispered a change of plans. Not an outright change, nothing drastic. Just a tweak. A slight nudge to move me into better alignment with the makings of a greater day. A greater me.

The soft girl showed me a vision of my walking track— the one I’d be springing along in the not too distant future, whistling up fat-armed gum trees, crunching along a pathway of pebbles grey, red, and brown.

But things were different in the soft girl’s version of events. In the soft girl’s version…I wasn’t alone. My little baby elephant— my adorably delightful five-year-old boy—had come along for the pebble crunch of it all, and it-felt-good. It felt…right.

It was that feeling, the feeling of rightness I experienced upon mentally viewing my little mister striding along beside me that confirmed it. The soft girl. Her subtle, intuitive language had whispered it’s quiet hello so that I might use it and make this life of mine better.

An hour later I walked out the front door, trailed by an ever so excited little boy. An hour after that…the two of us bounded back into the house, huffing, puffing and smiling from our Super Mario ‘star run’ down the street to home.

The soft girl got it right again today, the lovely duffer

And my goodness, I’m grateful.

person wearing shirt standing near tree
Photo by Alex Smith on Pexels.com
A Blog a Day in May

Rainy Days

The Sun once told me not to run from the rain.

It told me to seek it.

To cherish it.

To never forget that, without the rain,

beauty misses out on its chance to grow.

Now, when the rain comes, I get my coat.

And I sit.

And I wait.

I wait until I am certain

that happily ever after

has begun again.

long exposure photography of water drop
Photo by Fabiano Rodrigues on Pexels.com

 

 

A Blog a Day in May

Fairies

Life is too short to dismiss the possibility of fairies.

I’ve never seen one.

And the imposter within me doesn’t even believe.

But I’ll never stop looking.

I’ll never stop pestering my children to look.

And when we find such magical lands as this…

I’ll look harder.

Ps: This is a public garden about twenty minutes from my home. Isn’t it the most beautiful place?

xx Brooke

A Blog a Day in May

Autumn

I’m lounging in the sun chair, peering into the Autumn.

The window’s grown cold, just like everything else around here that once was warm. It’s like we’re in a corridor. At one end: summer. At this end: winter. Maybe we’ll build a fire today.

The leaves are tumbling and it’s the most beautiful thing, to stand among the twisting and falling: orange, yellow, red. I’ve always marveled at the beauty of autumn, but this year seems different.

This year I feel the falling.

It’s a sense of relief, as though maybe this is a new start for my lovely tree friends, a shedding of old skin, the beginning of a new life. Beautiful trees. You begin again with such grace, such beauty. Such confidence.

It really is quite lovely of you.

photography of child pushing the wagon
Photo by Jennifer Murray on Pexels.com