Enfolding

I was quite taken with the row of day lilies that were along the eastern side of Burnt Island near the lighthouse. I went up there several mornings to watch the sunrise and ended up taking several pictures with the lilies front and center. One of my favorites is one that I took one afternoon after a storm had come through and the sky had cleared. Hanging out with those lilies made me think of this poem and, when I read it, I realized that it means something a little different to me now than it did when I wrote it. I already shared it in an earlier post, but I want to share it again.

Enfolding

Like a rose she opens

to her world

anew.

Like a day lily

she curls in

at night.

Opening and closing she

tests, tries, tarries a while

when it feels

right.

Her eyes see things she

didn’t recognize

before.

Her mind functions

more in tandem with

her heart.

She wraps her arms

around all that is

hers,

beautiful body,

open heart,

active mind,

loving soul.

Embracing all that is

within and without,

she knows that her gifts

are hers

to honor and share.

Enfolding - going in

to all that is good,

instead of going

away.

Sarah Carlson

July 20, 2008

A visit to the lighthouse tower

One evening during the week long Nature Journaling class on Burnt Island we were invited to go up into the lighthouse tower. We gathered outside the structure as the sun was going down on the other side of the island. Elaine told us some of the history and then a small group of us went into the tower with her. By the time we reached the top it was dark outside, but we were accompanied by Elaine's enthusiasm and deep knowledge of the history and significance of not only the Burnt Island light, but several others that we could see. The following poem is an attempt to capture that truly magical experience.
The top picture is one I took just after sunrise as the morning light bathed the tower. The bottom picture is of the sunset over the keeper's house just before we went into the tower.

A Visit to the Lighthouse

Spiral staircase winds upward.
Once tread upon by the keeper
as he refueled the lamp,
now it takes us,
students of the island,
to the top of the tower.
We stand together
in the company of the pulsating light,
awed by the feelings stirred
within us as we soak in
the history, the energy, the strength
of the stalwart structure.

Sarah Carlson
August 3, 2011

Power spot

As we were gaining our sense of place on Burnt Island we were asked to choose a 'power spot' - a place we were especially drawn to that would become where we would go to work on our Nature Journals during parts of the week. At first I wasn't sure about being able to pick one spot because the island had so many lovely nooks and crannies. But there was one place that did seem to call to me. It was just below the lighthouse on some rocks by the water.
Above is a picture of me in my spot and another of the view to my right as I sat and worked in my journal.

Power Spot

Rocky perch by the water,
light watches down over me.
Evening breeze surrounds
as the setting sun gently
paints the sky.
Artistic attempts,
though tentative and halting,
lead to feeling settled,
connected, peaceful.

Sarah Carlson
August 1, 2011

Tiny rocks

One of the first activities that we did on Burnt Island as part of Nature Journaling was to go exploring on our own on the trails and along the shore (it's only 5 acres) to get used to our surroundings as well as begin to look at things more closely - in other words, to give us more of a sense of place. We were to collect specimens of four things that caught our interest in small vials that we had made into 'explorer's necklaces'. One of the things I chose was sand from the small beach area. When we returned we made 'slides' of our findings by using notecards and packing tape. Then we were able to look closely at our tiny discoveries through magnifiers. I was just in awe of what I saw on my homemade slide. The following is a short piece that I wrote after this experience.

Note - the above picture is just one of several that I took of the rocks of the island. I don't have any of sand...:)

Burnt Island Sand

Tumbled, tossed, slammed, splintered.
Giant rocks transformed
into tiny multi-faceted grains.
Part of a greater whole,
and complete on their own.

Sarah Carlson
August 1, 2011

Ocean rhythms

Well, I haven't posted in a while. I'm working on a poem that just doesn't quite seem finished called Heartsong. Perhaps I'm still learning to let my heart truly sing, not sure. I do know that the poetry comes much more slowly now. I'm thinking that's because I am incorporating all that has come over the past few years into my life. I feel the need to be more patient, and that actually feels good.

A few weeks ago I had an amazing week taking a Nature Journaling course for teachers on Burnt Island. It was just so wonderful to be on that little island soaking in the environment and the learning. I did learn to draw a bit as we did many wonderful science based activities. But of course, the need to write was there, too!

The first day we were on the island it was very foggy. When Elaine Jones (instructor AND boat captain...:) picked us up at the dock we really couldn't see much at all. The island isn't very far off Boothbay Harbor, but we could have been in the middle of the ocean for all we could see. The horn of the lighthouse was sounding, due to the dense fog, every 10 seconds. Some people were bothered by that, but I really liked the rhythm of it in the background and could somehow put it where I needed it to be.Later in the afternoon the fog lifted and it was like a present slowly being unwrapped as we took in the vistas from our island perch.

I will most likely write more about the experience later, but I wanted to post this poem that I wrote on the first day there. It was written as the fog was lifting, but the horn was still blowing.
I like how so many of my other pieces wove their way into this one - it's about what I was experiencing in the moment, but about so very much more at the same time...:)

Ocean Rhythms

Soft swells sweep toward the rocky shore.
Bulbous seaweed sways back and forth
on the surface of the salty liquid,
accompanied by the luscious sound of water
lapping onto land.
Sailboat saunters by with mainsail and jib
working in tandem to move the vessel
quietly into port.
Multiple engines throb in the distance –
lobster boats hard at work maneuvering
from trap to trap checking for crustaceans to sell.
All the while the steady pulse of the
Burnt Island Lighthouse
announces solid presence.

Sarah Carlson
Aug. 1, 2011
Written while sitting on a rock
by the Burnt Island boathouse
First day of Nature Journaling class