Life

Wild Geese: Mary Oliver

A friend gifted me a beautiful copy.

The words were swirly, and letterpressed onto white rippled cardboard, and when I read it—Wild Geese, a poem by Mary Oliver—I just knew there was no one in the world that needed it more than I did.

Fast forward to today: a few months after I met this lovely poem, and it met me. I’d planned another blog post entirely— I’d even written it and was ready to post. But the soft girl said, ‘No.’

The soft girl said, ‘share the poem.’

So, here I am.

Sharing the poem. Why?

Because the soft girl said so.

And if you feel it in your heart the way that I felt it when it first found me…then you’ll know the soft girl meant it for you. xx

***

Wild Geese, By Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

nature bird water animal
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Poetry

The Ocean of Me

I close my eyes

and the warm wind becomes my breath.

This wind—

it whispers into the ocean of me, into the dark

of my waters, deep.

It hands me the calm of the moon,

and it grants me the strength of the sky.

This wind—

this warm, lovely wind.

It reminds me that sometimes

life is best left as a question

without an answer.

It reminds me that

it’s okay to let the dark water rise,

sometimes.

body of water across sunset
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Twelve Days of Christmas

Peace

On the fourth day of Christmas my soul took me back to the river.

Same river.

Different tree.

The feeling was the same, though.

The feeling of the river washing all the sharp bits out of me.

Making me soft again.

Just like when it’s me and only me in the world.

Today, the river became me.

And I became the river.

And I now know why I was drawn back to this calm and sleepy place.

It was because I had something to learn.

I had to learn to recognise the feeling that takes hold of me when the river bubbles and the wind blows warm on my skin.

I had to give it a name.

It’s name is ‘peace’.

And I’ve come back to the river so that I might share this peace with you.

xx Brooke

Ps. Go find a river. Listen to it. Feel it. Life is too short to let the rivers of this beautiful life pass us by.

The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 22. The Garden

Once upon a time, there was a garden.

And this garden—

Well.

It was the most magnificent garden in all the land.

Because, in this most darling of places, every day was a new season…

autumn blooming blossom bright

And every day was more beautiful than the last.

Everyone thought so.

Even those who could not walk the shady path with their own two feet.

Especially those who could not walk the shady path with their own two feet.

bloom blooming blossom blur

But there was darkness in this garden, too.

Darkness that bled up the roots of the trees.

Darkness that wandered and swayed and crept along the weeds,

gobbling up all the gentle hearts that lay open in its wobbly path.

brown wooden spider formed statue photography

Most were afraid of the darkness.

But the girl.

Oh no, the girl was not afraid.

The girl would never be afraid, for her heart was as golden as the sunshine.

And golden hearts (as everybody knows) need not be afraid of the dark.

adult air beautiful beauty

For the girl, each new day in the garden was beautiful.

So full of charm.

And grace.

And daffodils swaddled in polka dots…

pexels-photo-413707-e1526989885215.jpeg

And magic.

Magic lived in that garden too, did you know?

Well. You do now.

And the girl…she was the master of every little trick.

Every little miracle.

person holding clear glass ball

So, next time you wander the brightest day…

You might think of that girl.

Of her garden made from all the darling things.

And you might wish that you were there with her—

Two dreamers, marveling at all the lovely things.

Yes. What a sweet dream that would be.

close up of tree against sky

The darling blog of May

The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 20. Moon River: Behind the Scenes

Yesterday, I was a little bit naughty.

I had a blog post to write—and a darling one, at that.

But.

Instead of sitting at the computer, crafting a darling world of words, I leaned over the piano and melted into the melody of other people’s lives for a while. Song after song I devoured until I was there: in that wondrous place that appears when music happens to the world all around me.

I didn’t have a darling thing to write about. I wasn’t feeling the feels, hearing the voice that shouts all the good things into my ear in order for me to spill them into the darling lives of all of you.

I was lost.

Maybe that’s why I turned to the piano and not the computer.

You’d think it was a mistake, wouldn’t you, picking the piano? That I should have at least been trying to write a blog post, pinching at all the threads of darling in my mind, hoping to find the one.

Well. It was no mistake.

Quite the opposite, actually. It was a gift.

Because it was at the piano that I rediscovered the whimsical wonder of Moon River, the subject of yesterday’s darling blog. The glow of the moonlight, the calming drift of the river as she wound her gentle way into my soul. That song. Darling never sounded so sweet, did it?

So, there we were, me and my Huckleberry friend, drifting away—the two of us lost in a dream, tumbling toward the glittery wonder of the rainbow’s end. And all the while, the real world sat quietly and waited for us to return.

What a shame I had to come back from that beautiful place.

Then again, what a blessing.

I mean.

I had to tell you guys all about it, didn’t I? Because this blog is, after all, how my most darling days are made.

Don’t even get me started about the darling friends I’ve met along the way.

 

rainbow
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The darling blog of May

The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 19. Moon River

 

Moon River, wider than a mile,

I’m crossing you in style some day.

Old dream maker, you heart breaker,

Wherever you’re going,

I’m going your way.

 

Two drifters, off to see the world.

There’s such a lot of world to see.

We’re after the same rainbow’s end,

Waiting ’round the bend,

My huckleberry friend,

Moon River and me.

 

Sigh. xx Brooke

architecture atmospheric bay bay bridge
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The darling blog of May