Skip to main content

Wrong Turns

Okay, I don't know where to begin, so, I am just beginning somewhere.

I thought I completely understood what turning the lights out on Wild Road meant, and what arriving here on this blog was about.

I didn't.

I tried to put it in a box.

It wouldn't fit.

I am opening up the box and stepping out of it.

What wants to be expressed here, doesn't want to be wrangled or corralled.

I surrender.

I am listening to a voice that says show up and create in the moment. Let this be the plot that unfolds. Let it run in torrents. Let it trickle. Let it  unfold with each melody. Let it embrace form when it wants to, let it defy it at times. Let it feel stuck if need be. Let it need rules, and then abandon them just for fun. 


Just do your best to keep it wide open, aware of the workings of a mind that would try to box it in, define, artificially fabricate. 


Trust what you've presented already, but feel into the freedom that birthed this whole operation, and step outside the box-- better yet, realize there was never any box! Embrace what wants to be multi-dimensional, messy, and a rich expression of your heart and your experience. 


I let go of my backseat-driving mind, that has obnoxiously hailed wrong turns! Yes, I let go of this with ease. There have been too many times lately where I have ended up in the right places, literally and figuratively, despite supposed wrong turns. Which I guess, makes them right!

Gently, whatever Forces that be, have been showing me how to expand my vision beyond what I can pin down.

It has left me quieter lately-- mostly mesmerized by atoms spinning around me, in a sacred orchestration that I couldn't even begin to compose.

I've merely wanted to sit back and watch, listen, taste, smell, feel.

So filled to the brim with awe, I am unsure I can express it, and yet, I know I must try.

My arrival here did herald a carving of sorts, but I am merely a passenger, whether I think I am driving or not.

Comments

  1. "I am opening up the box and stepping out of it."

    Yippee! I love this...I can see you stepping out now, such a lovely site. And to taking wrong turns that turn out to be just right. To all of it!

    Raising my coffee cup to you now, dear Brooke!

    ReplyDelete
  2. in awe of every post you create... trusting that someday i'll be able to express the whirling mess in my head with even a fraction of the grace you display.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Brooke...

    I love you! I love how you're so present with what's happening in your mind, and how beautifully you express it (Kelli, your words are beautifully graceful and expressive, too!).

    "Let it run in torrents. Let it trickle. Let it unfold with each melody"... YES!

    Thank you
    xx

    ReplyDelete
  4. I can totally feel you on blog boxes. I've tried to put myself in a blog box but I can not seem to stay there. I am like you trying to explore and find out what this is all about. Love this line:"show up and create in the moment. Let this be the plot that unfolds. Let it run in torrents. Let it trickle. Let it unfold with each melody. Let it embrace form when it wants to, let it defy it at times. Let it feel stuck if need be. Let it need rules, and then abandon them just for fun"

    ReplyDelete
  5. Glad to be a passenger on this journey!

    ReplyDelete

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…

Adventure

Another painting I loved making. I had so much fun just layering paint and swirling about.

Adventure has been a big part of my world as of late. In fact, writing this after a long day of skiiing. Where I used to shy away from leaving the house, I've been doing the opposite. Finally really getting to know my beautiful state and bask in its beauty-- hiking to the top of many peaks--sometimes limping the last stretches back to the car. Took my girls camping on the beach without a 'man'  and was so proud when I got the campfire started multiple times. The girls had their doubts I could do it. It was nice to prove them wrong! My most favorite was the day I drove 5 hours to the closest passport office on a wing and a prayer to get a same-day passport (wing and a prayer because they tell you you can drive all that way, but that there is no guarantee they can/will help you) so I could accept an invitation to see the woman's soccer world cup, and within a week was in Vancouver…

Pillow Talk

Today I felt the familiar pangs of conversing with my body, it forever unyielding to my demands that it shape itself pretty now. That it chase itself back to its few glory days.

I tell my body that I would be ready to appreciate those days of yore now that I know what I missed while vying for the shapes and sizes of the other women around me.

Over and over my mind and I have run this particular proclamation to my body.

Then, we are good on our road, until the mind closes in and starts to overtake my strides.

You'll never make it there, you are too far gone, it taunts. It is too late.It isn't possible for you.

Then, so predictable--it attacks the most vulnerable part of me. The part I hide, keep covered, feel sure is my perfect disgrace: my belly.

The scale tipped in favor of shame today. Shame that I'd let the house of my being become so run down. That I'd let myself use food to comfort me, pick me up, enhance experience-- and that in the process I'd packed on the ext…