Skip to main content

Treasure Hunt

I have no idea where this image came from, but it is awesome.

Every time I step outside of what I think I know, what I think I understand, what I think I should follow, believe or do--every time I do it just a little bit differently, do it in a way that supports my well-being--every time I follow my heart, a treasure is revealed.

There is a kind of cosmic applause when I do this, as if this has been the whole point of the game all the time, to follow my heart, to love the heart of others, to take a chance, to question limitation, to tell the truth, to release my shame and guilt, to let go, to feel each of my cells vibrating in the sweetness of living, to receive love and acceptance from likely and unlikely places, to feel my creativity supported and expanded.

My passion is to get to the root of things. And my digging has gotten me to something that is just so simple. It is so simple that I can barely write it here and feel intellectually satisfied.

Love creates new worlds.

Just follow your inclination to love, and question everything else. That is the entire treasure map, right there. Then let love open you up.

Let love gently hold you as you hit your head against the brick wall for the last time, to decide you will no longer carry the pain of thinking that you are loving when trying to change someone out of fear or lack, trying to protect someone out of fear or lack, trying to give to someone who isn't receptive out of fear or lack, trying to get someone to see your preciousness out of fear or lack.

The rules of love will show you that struggling to create the appearance of love isn't, and never will be love. Rather the appearance of love will be such a shabby substitute, you will find it creating so much destruction, pain, and lifelessness, as to lead you to a breaking point--when you will finally let go, surrender and open to doing it differently. And it is all downhill from here.

Life can't move without your fearful intervention. This couldn't be further from the truth.

It is safe to let go.

Then let love teach you about love, how much you can actually feel when you let go of the fear. How clear you can express yourself, how much you can actually ask for when you open with abandon and begin to trust your inherent knowledge, that the world of limitations you've experienced until now can fall as easily as a house of cards. Without the illusion of the being locked in, nothing can keep you from flying.

See how you feel just giving yourself permission to write in nothing but run-on sentences! It is awesome!

Then the beauty--you get to experience your wildest dreams in a clear space, (which in this space become pretty simple, really--certainly less grandiose for me--but grandiose is still okay!).
You get to jump into the void and experience a new kind of Love. And it empowers, it nurtures, it trusts in each unique person and process, in every interaction, good or bad, as a gift that offers all of it.

Then watch experiences come full circle. Yes, we are all traveling around the same circle, and when you let go, you will find you circle around and pass each other again on the journey, in a different place, but now the light you see in one another is unobscured. Your entire interface has been changed, and your judgement is no longer in the way of seeing the beauty. Your suns shine together. And you never go back. You may again go your separate ways only to meet up later on, in even clearer space.

Now the structures in place can work for you or they can collapse with your blessing. You can see how they were built by inspiration, but along the way became cages, but now anything has the potential for beauty.

I am learning to let love lead as much as I can. When I feel something that is not love, I feel it, see what it has to show me about what is active in me, or needing to heal or heel, but let it go as best I can.

I return with a sovereign discipline to giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, because it feels better than harboring judgement or resentment.

And the root of it shows that we are all the same.

And then what I never expected: I can extend this love and flexibility to my imperfect self. Oh well, I am imperfect. Oh, another screw up? Oh well. Oh, they must think [fill in the blank], Oh, the shame, oh well. Oh well, etc. etc. etc.

I'm perfect in my imperfectness. We all are. It is believing otherwise that turns us into monsters, deflecting our shame and watching it turn into aggression.

My imperfectness is beginning to work for me now, not hold me under.

Following the striation of love in my being began as just a weak possibility that somehow just felt right, when everything else felt wrong-- but just taking the chance that it might have something to show me, has brought it more and more into the light, and now it has become an underlying truth, supported by direct experience.

Plus, life becomes fun when I don't have to save anyone or myself, when I don't have to do anything to be full of worth. Love runs naturally, along with compassion and connection, into the moment. And when a moment feels closed, I find I have the courage and ability to open it up, even just a crack. Mostly by telling the truth of what I am feeling, with love, and without being a victim.

All of the sudden I am surrounded by people who are all heart. Maybe they were always this way, and I just couldn't see. Who knows? But it doesn't really matter, because it was all leading to this, and I see how everything leads from this place--as in new worlds.

And then the surprises, like when I am certain that a situation, person, organization might be exempt from the gifts, and I am shown that I am wrong! Being wrong--that which burns through the cloud cover to reveal a most splendid sun. I love being wrong.

I can just relax and enjoy, and not try so hard.

So, this is living. So, this is loving!

PS. I am sure I've written some version of this post before. It feels familiar. But it doesn't matter. It is all the same really. As your experience likely reflects, it just gets deeper and deeper, as layers are peeled away, and truths are revealed. It is something I must repeat over and over to myself as the old becomes less and less familiar, and the new becomes more and more stable in my experience.

PSS. Speaking of treasures, I love movies--and a sure movie treasure is The King's Speech staring the lovely and enduring Mr. Darcy, Colin Firth. God save the king!
(Wouldn't you know that my two favorite actors both played gorgeous portrayals of Mr. Darcy--Colin Firth and Matthew Macfadyen--just in case you were curious).


  1. beautifully said. beautifully remembered. beautifully lived.

    thank you for sharing your wisdom, dear friend.

  2. Hiya Brooke,

    'Just follow your inclination to love, and question everything else.' Yippee! Thats the way girl. Forgetting,remembering,forgetting and remembering and on and on we go. Your doing a fine job Brooke.

    Love Nige,

    P.S. Ell and me went to see The Kings Speech this week. What a beautiful movie.

  3. Brooke... this is an incredible post.

    When I first began recovering from addiction, I used to wonder why I'd never been given the book of life like all the people I saw around me. Today, I realize that they, for the most part, are in exactly the same boat as me, and the directions each of us needs resides within, and without, and is immediately available, although it can sometimes take years to uncover them.

    I went on a journey as I read your post... and am going to re-read it now xxx

    P.S. I loved The King's Speech! What a film! Colin Firth was brilliant.

  4. I love that you say there has been a cosmic applause- I LOVE that. That whole paragraph is amazing spiritual poetry. I am dying to see Mr Darcy in The Kings Speech. It looks wonderful. Thank you Brooke for your super heartfelt comments on my new blog. It meant so much! You left them when we were having technical difficulty too- I am so thankful. Big love to you...


Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

RIP Poltergeist

After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.

I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.

However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on
Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, magic for the neighborhood…


The other night I had a vivid dream that my youngest daughter had died.

There is a time when I would have been unable to even bring this to consciousness, let alone write about it. It has always been my deepest, darkest fear, to lose a child, and this fear has always been there prominently with my youngest.

In the dream I could conceptualize her under her grave, which happened to be in a dark, jagged cavern of colorless rock and stone--no lush lawn, no flowers, just a gaudy gravestone, that glowed, like a tacky neon sign in Vegas. I found myself digging frantically in the earth under her grave marker to retrieve her little bear, so much loved by her in her five short years, that it is no less 'real' than the Velveteen Rabbit.

I found the bear mixed with rubble above where she was buried, brushed it off, and clasped it to my heart, as if it was the last part of her I could keep with me. I pressed the little bear hard to my nose, sniffing for remnant smells of my daughter. The smel…