Brooke signed my blog comment book. Even better, she read one of my blogs. Then, she said her heart was with me. Maybe that's why I've slept so deeply and peacefully the past few nights – because I've had her heart. Her broken/loving/bleeding/healing heart. And she even had enough room left over to even give some of it to me.
Brooke is a blogging goddess. Like me, she was a homebirth transport – her son born by traumatic c-section. You can read all about her experiences, and taste the insight and texture of her words on her blog: http://urbanearthmama.typepad.com/
I read blogs like Brooke's and I still cannot.fathom.why.the.hell it's moviestars that are celebrated and idolized and paid the mad-crazy bucks and not impossibly talented, insightful, tormented, brutally honest women like Brooke. Yes, I'm saying she should be celebrated and idolized and paid the mad-crazy bucks for just being HER, for finding light in all the darkness. Or, nay, freakin' creating the light if she had to. That's pure magic, folks. But I will rest easy because I know the dirty little secret of our culture: it is women like Brooke, and Jeanette, and Marybeth, and Marinah who really hold all the empowerment in this world. The best part? They release it, in little capsules, and it rises like smoke from the ashes of our burning hearts…and finds it's way to people like me.
Noun: a natural stream of water smaller than a river (and often a tributary of a river)
Verb : put up with something or somebody unpleasant.
A natural stream of wisdom, smaller than the river of energy that surrounds us (and often a tributary to that river of energy) …but larger than life. Meandering, life-giving, quenching, peaceful, babbling (in a good way!), awakening, reflective.
Put up with something or somebody unpleasant. Cried. Survived. Thrived. Lives. Loves. Laughs. Oh, always laughs.
Brooke: "I am haunted by waters…" Your namesake is the connection to my favorite words, the words which are housed on my blog home page even:
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters". – Norm MacLean