Filling in the blanks...

I've been trying to choose what to post for New Years. And during that process I've been feeling a bit of sadness and loneliness. I realized that New Years, for me, has traditionally been one of the more difficult times of year - especially early on. I remember the first one well - I didn't want it to turn to 2003 because that would be the first calendar year that Barry would not be with us as he was. I think I had been invited somewhere, but I just couldn't go. I think another reason for this gentle melancholy that has surfaced just now is because wherever we were, whatever we were doing Barry always found his way to me and had his arm around my shoulders - and at the stroke of midnight he always gave me a sweet little kiss. It was lovely...:) And I simply miss that.

So as I was looking through my poetry I found this little number that seems to fit. I remember writing it and how the blankness really did feel good. So much had washed away and there was room to fill with new things - and, well the poem says it best.

My wish for anyone who happens to read this is that whatever blanks there are in your life get filled however you need them to be in the New Year - and that you are able to feel goodness, benevolence and promise all along the way.

There I feel much better - thank you!

Blank

I feel blank and it feels good.
Hopeful, exciting, promising.
I’m empty, yet not.
All that has served me in the past
is still there -
right where it has always been,
but more accessible and easier to acknowledge.
This blankness, though disorienting,
is quite empowering at the very same time.
Where will I go with it?
What will I do?
Don’t know.
Don’t need to know, yet.
I just need to know that
all I have put out so
naturally and thoughtfully for others
is just as necessary
to put into me,
that the blankness will be filled
as I need it to be -
with the goodness of what was,
the benevolence of what is,
and the promise of what will be.

Sarah Carlson

January 31, 2008

Fluidity

Fluidity

Placid waters
gently lapping upon the shore.
Rhythmic – in, out, in out.
Quiet ripples of fluidity
that hold promise, hope,
deep knowing.
Morning mist softly
rises, disappearing
in the heat of the sun.
Storm surges of long ago battles
both known and unknown
still occur, though seldom.
Gently consuming,
somewhat convulsive
their power becomes benign
as the solid banks
of reclaimed self-worth
hold the reckless waters at bay
until they submit, subside
and join the flow.
Reflected light from above
dances and sparkles
upon the silvery surface
that’s only a glimpse of
what can be.
As my being becomes cleansed
and the light penetrates more deeply
I feel a freedom unlike any I’ve ever known.
The new day has dawned
and the diffused morning light
gives way to a glow
that shows the way
to what will be.
I now have the freedom
to fully learn to trust and
live MY life.

Sarah Carlson

October 7, 2007

Starting to discover my own way to dance

Well, I've stalled somewhat as I have again been having trouble deciding what to share and when. So much happened during the time of late 2007 to summer 2009. It is actually potentially overwhelming to sort through all the poetry that emerged. But today, after discussing this with my most wonderful daughter, I realized that I need to just post what feels right to and for me. So I'm going to do that, but still with the hopes that somehow, some day, some way others will read, enjoy and benefit from the way these words came to me as I worked my way through what I know I've already described as an most amazing journey of grieving and self-discovery. As I've pondered this post I realized I'm doing another 'slow dance' - see poem below...:)

The theme of dance has emerged many times in my writings, which makes sense in retrospect. Barry was quite a dancer, which I found out early on in our relationship - as I wondered what the ruckus was in the loft of a barn that was attached to a house we were renting. It turned out to be Barry tap dancing! When I asked what he was doing he just grinned and told me about the dance lessons he and his brother had taken when they were younger. He was a very graceful man and he did really dance on the tennis court and on skis. One of his very comical quirks was that he loved to swing his tennis racket and 'practice his moves' in our driveway. This affectionately became known as 'Dad doing the tennis dance in the driveway again'!

One of the first poems with a sort of dance theme came as I processed an experience I had as I walked along a field by the Sandy River - a place I go often to walk, ponder and exercise my dog. A place that many people in our town go to do to the very same thing. My 'beloved river'...

One day, in the fall of 2007 - actually on my daughter's birthday - as I walked I suddenly had a clear sense that I was not alone. I looked across the field and saw a large bird flying over the field from the river. It was a bald eagle - flying very low, straight at me! As I described earlier I've had many bird experiences since Barry died, but this was the most powerful to date. I stopped and just watched, with a momentary thought of - hmmm, should I duck? And well, the poem tells the rest.

Eagle Dance

Bald Eagle,
so many times you’ve
come and reassured me
with your strength and your power.
Usually purposeful in your soaring ways,
today you danced a beautiful dance
seemingly just for me.
My open heart, my tranquil soul
sensed your closeness.
I turned my head and there you were
flying straight at me across the gentle field.
Once you knew you had my attention
your dance, our dance, began.
A fanciful flight
up and down,
this way and that.
Carefree and joyful you
played in the thermals,
flirted with the trees,
followed the river
and teased the breeze.
You affirmed my realizations,
helped me trust that my free flowing
and my openness are real and good
and pure and right.
Thank you Eagle.
I so enjoyed
the dance.

Sarah Carlson

September 23, 2007

A year or so later I had another compelling bald eagle experience - even more amazing than the one I wrote about above. I was driving to a polarity treatment along a road I travel often. I was feeling many things and my mind was gently wandering. I was having some thoughts that were a bit unsure and uneasy and just as I rounded a bend a large bird seemingly filled up my windshield. I was driving slowly due to the bend and so pulled over to see what exactly had come over me - literally! I opened my door to see a HUGE eagle circling above me. I could feel its energy, its power, our connection. It made several slow, methodical turns and then flew with grace and strength out over the sloping field across the road. I think of that experience each time I drive or bike along that road - and I smile when I come to 'Eagle Corner'.
The poem that came a few days after that experience is one of my all time favorites. It is one that I go back to often and marvel at how it fits my life in unique ways as I travel along into the newness. Here it is:

Slow Dance

Careful circles above the fray
provide perspective and distance,
room for reflection,
a bird’s eye view with time
to twist the lens
for further acuity.
Straining with effort,
each turn of this slow dance
makes way for more to unwind
leading to relief and new insights.
Round and round -
circles intersect and cross to
become interwoven,
creating a new scaffold to hold on to
so that it is finally safe to let go
of all that no longer serves.
Each point along the way
a turning point with
opportunity to make new choices.
Settling into a new way to be,
freeing a true self,
feeling worthy of fully experiencing the
wonders of the universe.
Knowing that further circling may
be necessary,
but by trusting the connectedness,
feeling the love,
believing in the light,
it is time
to spread strong, steady wings,
join the winds of change
and soar.

Sarah Carlson

January 15, 2009

A new day dawns

A New Day Dawns

Early morning grayness,
left over rainbursts
come and go.
Winds of change
work the higher clouds
as they twist and turn,
travel to new places.
Bits of blue peek
through the swirling masses
of dissipating vapor.
A new day dawns
as sunlight bathes
the awakening world.
Aglow in the soothing lightness
one can see, feel
hope and promise
as illumination
works its way through
the darker layers
to the ground.

Sarah Carlson

Sept. 13, 2007

Drifting

I was looking back through my poetry and I found this one, which I actually wrote before Aflutter. For some reason I had decided not include it, but last night when I read it I felt the need to share it - maybe because I've been feeling a bit 'drifty' lately, but in a very tender way.
So here it is...

Drifting

I feel as though I am drifting.
Held up by air currents that,
although gentle,
keep me swaying back and forth.
Back is often good,
sometimes unsettling,
fosters more realizations.
Forth is usually energizing,
sometimes produces the need to retreat
and internalize new learnings.
Drifting,
once tossed about
by the winds of change,
now stirred by
calming breezes of inner awareness
and a more pure sense of self.
Looking for a place to settle,
but not ready quite yet.
A place I’ve glimpsed
that is both
dark and light,
honorable and challenging,
serene and dynamic,
That place within
me
That is where
I truly live.

Sarah Carlson

July 29, 2007

Aflutter

At this point I remember truly feeling the energy of recovery that I mentioned in My True Essence and in other pieces. But sometimes I wasn't quite sure I knew how to move forward with that energy. One day I saw a butterfly when I was walking by the river and I watched it for a bit. It made me smile and this piece came as soon as I got home.

I took the picture in this post at a butterfly exhibit at the Smithsonian - one that you could walk right into and literally BE with many types of butterflies. I've always been intrigued by the Blue Morpho - with its vivid colors on the topside and solid browns for camoflage on the underside.

Aflutter

I know I no longer should
allow myself to be devalued
by things I cannot control.
I know I have shed the
mantle of apprehension
that I carried for so very long.
I know I am at home
within.
I am close to understanding
that I am truly able to walk away
from the hurt and move
forward with hope in my heart.
As I look ahead with anticipation, though,
I literally quiver,
feel all aflutter,
and my path is this way and that
without clear direction.
I think of the happy path
of a butterfly,
seemingly unaware of a direct route,
yet covering great distances during its life.
A butterfly, by instinct,
knows where it is going.
Do I?

Sarah Carlson

September 9, 2007

Effervescence

As I continued to dig in and explore this unexpected life without Barry I began to know my self even better. In this poem I talk about the 'old me' and the 'newer me', but now I know it is really the same me. I just had to experience things differently, which I now understand can be seen as an opportunity. My years with Barry were truly a gift and around this time in the process I began to more clearly comprehend that the things I was discovering as I adjusted to life without him were also a gift of a unique nature.

Effervescence

I feel as though I am bubbling.
The bubbles seem to be a mixture
of old things that continue to dissipate
and new things that I’m
becoming better able to acknowledge.
As if I have clearer lenses in my eyes,
a more helpful filter in my brain,
I experience familiar
emotions and thought patterns
in a completely different way, again.
This frothy mixture of hurt and healing
produces a sense
of almost overwhelming energy
that I don’t quite know how to harness.
The old me thinks I should keep a lid
on my budding sense of self,
the somewhat sparkling
image of me that is emerging.
But the newer me wonders
just where this might lead,
what else is in there,
what are the possibilities?
Now that my heart is whole,
that I’ve come home to myself,
that I’ve learned to hold my being
in higher esteem,
it seems to make sense
that some of my inner pieces of
are demanding to be heard,
do not want to be denied.
I see that I should view
this effervescence as a
wonderful step
in the positive, more hopeful
path that lies ahead.
And so I guess
I’ll just bubble away the old,
dance with the energy
of the new,
and savor the many aspects of
this amazing effervescence.

Sarah Carlson

September 3, 2007

My true essence

At this point in the process many things were happening and sometimes it was hard to keep up with everything. I remember a student I had once who, during a reading assessment when he was trying to retell a story, said - "Hang on a second Mrs. Carlson, I just need to catch up with myself here!" Such a wonderfully accurate statement that still makes me smile.

It was a gratifying experience to revisit this poem and others that led up to it because I can see that, although I am in a very different place now, I am still finding ways to tap the well. The difference is that, although I still deeply miss Barry in many ways, the loneliness is not consuming and I am so much more comfortable deciding what I need and how to give to my self - something we all need in our lives, for sure. I am also still becoming more comfortable not always knowing the answers and am very aware of enjoying the challenge of discovery all along the way.

My True Essence

Deeper, deeper and deeper I go.
The totality of what I’ll find
I don’t yet know.
For as I travel within
I am just beginning to discover
my true essence.
For many reasons
I’ve never really known my self,
never had much confidence in me.
So comfortable in giving to others,
I never knew how to give
to myself.
Unbearably lonely
since my soul mate died,
it is only now that I am
starting to feel content
in my own company,
to see that there can
be excitement in not knowing,
and there is energy in recovery.
There is a place for me
and it’s okay that I don’t
quite know where that is yet.
In coming home to myself
I no longer have to believe
the lies that were not mine.
I simply need to choose
to find ways to
fully tap the inner well that is
my true essence.

Sarah Carlson

August 21, 2007

Inner rumblings

One day I was standing near my brook and the water was flowing in such a way that the rocks on the bed of the brook were tumbling below the surface. It was a deep noise that had a rather soft power to it. Again I had a moment where something that was confusing me became more clear out in the world of nature. I had been feeling so much better as a result of the work I was doing, but there was a deep, old rumbly voice that had a power that was still adversely affecting me. Once I recognized it, though, it began to soften and its effects were not as far reaching as before.

Inner Rumblings

Deep, dark, rumbly voice
below the surface
works at my most inner places.
The surface can be clear,
sparkling really,
but the rumbly voice
gets in the way of my flow.
Yet as I learn to open,
that sparkling surface
penetrates more deeply.
The rumbling,
once so real and true,
no longer has as much
power over me.
In understanding its source,
I divert the negativity
and change the flow.
In knowing that my gifts
are mine because I deserve them
the rumbling becomes benign.
In realizing that my light
survived despite what I lost
the voice softens.
In celebrating the fact
that I am who I am,
as I should be,
my inner flow clears
and I learn to love
my self.

Sarah Carlson

July 19, 2007

Mind weavings

The memory of the spider visitor mentioned in the previous entry helped me decide to post this poem now. And again - I will let this one speak for itself.

Mind Weavings

Healing thoughts,
words of wisdom,
pristine images
of nature speak
intermingle and form
new bonds of clarity
in the weavings of
my mind.
Childlike wonderings
still beg for attention
as the bonds form.
Ever so gently
I lift the strands
that anchor the
remnants of things
I no longer need
and set them aside.
Mind weavings of
goodness, purity,
joy and awe
flow around
and through each other
to produce a
tapestry of discoveries,
understandings,
inner truths
that I can wrap around
myself
to help provide the
security and contentment
I so deserve.

Sarah Carlson

August 5, 2007

Ashes of love

I must admit that it took me quite some time before I could do anything with Barry's ashes. There are many reasons for this and I do believe that it is important to do whatever feels right to family members at any given time in the process. For me, the right time and the right place did not come about until 5 years after his death. This was just a few days after I wrote the poem in the previous post and I think that it was, in part, a result of the opening.
I had done a great deal of journal writing in various forms by this time - and one of them was pages and pages of things I just wanted out of my head and needed to let go of in order to move forward - stream of consciousness writing. One day a trusted friend came to my house with a basic plan of going to the brook to burn some of that writing. (This may sound a bit strange, but I highly recommend it.) Anyway, I went down to my special spot before she came and made a little circle of stones, many of which were heart rocks that just kept showing themselves as I worked. As I did that it came to me that I also wanted to spread some ashes. What followed was a lovely little ceremony that just sort of revealed itself to us. I read some poetry and my journal and as we prepared to light the journal pages a spider slipped out from under the rocks of my circle of stones. I had also brought along a book about animals and their meaning in the Medicine Wheel of Native American culture. We looked up spider which, among other things, represents creativity - especially the notion of creating a new and different phase in one's life.
Since the time of this impromptu ceremony I have added other heart rocks that I find in different places. Each winter and spring some of the stones wash away as the ice shifts and melts, but I can always locate the spot and I find joy and solace in adding new stones. It has continued to be a place to access peace and connectedness.

Ashes of Love

Circle of stones near the waters of the
wise and beautiful brook.
Cloudy sky with bits of blue,
sunlight reaching through
spring green leaves.
Sitting with a trusted friend
reading poetry, talking about
progress.
Spider visitor
whose strong and purposeful presence
reminded us of creativity and success.
Crumpling pages of pain and anguish
that brought so much to light.
The warmth of the fire
as the pages gently
disappeared into ash and smoke.
Sounds of birds chirping
and the brook gurgling by.
My friend’s kind voice of encouragement,
my voice of surety and grace
as I read about my love.
Spreading his ashes,
not sure how,
then realizing there was
no judgment,
just the doing and the healing.
Some ashes in the circle
of stones,
others along the shore
and over the water.
Fascination as the
current took the pieces
and dispersed them along
the bottom,
the finer ones taking flight,
translucent, transcendent,
floating in the gentle breeze.
Ashes of anguish,
ashes of learning,
ashes of love.

Sarah Carlson

July 5, 2007