Skip to main content

Welcome to The Field + Bloomtopia



This site has been renamed many times. It began as Wild Road, became Backdoor to the Moon, started a sister site called Soul Carving of unfolding fiction, which died because all the main character wanted to do was walk in the field, endlessly, and this freaked me out, that I might truly have nothing to offer creatively.

Now I see how perfect it was. The timing. The message.

I never needed to go anywhere--just open my eyes to The Field. I just needed to catch up to what was right there in front of me that I couldn't see, because of my endless questing, which really was a lot more like weak hope and pretty obvious apologizing (although not so obvious then).

I needed to catch up to my apologizing and see it for the stark monster I was letting it be, see why it was always there! And when I did this, I decided I liked my process. I could change names as much as I liked! This was my creative space!

How empowering. I've begun to not only like how it has all unfolded, but find it rather sweet. I like the messiness of it.

I remember my ex giving me this card. I still keep this one. The others have gone to a smokestack in the sky.

I think I've held onto it all these years, because there was a possibility of something so loving in it-- in embracing my messes, my zigzag paths, my perceived failures, my grammatical mistakes, my lack of landing and sticking to--and in the end, even after I've heard what everyone has to say about my perceived imperfections, not rejecting myself. Seeing myself as the artist I am, have always been, and deserve to be.

So, this time there is no apology, but just a name change, or a combining--or more like an umbrella-ing--or something like that.

The Field encompasses All

Bloomtopia becomes more of a subheading, just as Soul Carving is back as a blog featurette, with a whole lot of other titles that once had their own non-public destination, including a blog on mothering, called Delicate Little Blooms. So, it all comes together--begins to make sense to me. All in one place.

All the titles here aim to speak to less of a destination, but more to a place I can't quite name, and I am happy to let take them take the lead.

So, yes, The Field.

Rumi's Field is the only place I want to hang out, explore, inhabit, deepen into, open to, let instruct me these days--and so, it feels very much like the right title to act as the ground beneath, or the sky above, for all that wishes to unfold here.

Bloomtopia,  is perhaps realer to me than ever, as it has morphed into a version of The Field for those beautiful developing, young at heart, who are forever more, growing, learning, stretching and reaching into who they are destined to be--those who may want to explore the veritable Wonderland of meeting themselves and the Worlds within, to bring back what they've discovered to the real one. Bloomtopia has a whimsical feel for me, and has begun to inspire art and stories, so, we'll see what wants to emerge from this inner reservoir.

Down the side of the blog, you can see some of my favorite topics.

Everything is under construction at the moment, although I won't apologize for its lack of full-functionality. It is growing and developing and I can whole-heartedly and unapologetically be fine with that.

Thank you for those of you who have always been a friend to me on this bit of web Real estate.

XO,

Brooke


Comments

  1. Love the new name, the vision it evokes and the permission it gives. Love to you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wide open vision and creativity without the nagging judgments and put-downs. I love The Field, and what I love even more is that this is where I can find you. Sending love love love, sweet amazing Brooke!

    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…