Light - Within and Without

Photo by Emma Carlson/Emily Rooney - Northern Forest Canoe Trail

I haven't written much lately, but recently I remembered two versions of a piece that I wrote last spring. I'm not sure which one I like best, so I've included both of them. I think these surfaced now for a reason - to help me move ahead. Enough said... here they are:

Light - Within and Without

Kayak slices through the waters

of a beloved river

as it meanders 'round rocks and trees

that dip from banks

eroded by the barrage.

Human skin soaks in the rays,

the being within smiles at the shift.

Inner radiance weaves its 

way to the surface,

merges with

the beams from our nearest star - 

reflecting,

refracting,

revealing,

releasing,

Light.

Warmth spreads about the misty morn

as water vapors reach for the sky.

New grasses sway in a gentle breeze,

shadows mimic the dance.

Whitewater ahead pulsates, gyrates,

beckons.

Kayak and human cavort as one,

follow the flow,

travel the torrent, then...

bask in the warming glow -

reflecting,

refracting,

revealing,

releasing,

Light.

Sarah Carlson

April 15, 2013

Light

Sun twinkles on crystalline snow

left behind by stormy days.

New grasses sway in a gentle breeze,

shadows mimic the dance.

Wave crests sparkle on a deep blue lake,

every-changing with the will of the wind.

Multi-hued leaves lay on the ground,

colors enhanced by the breaking dawn.

Warmth spreads about a misty morn

as water vapors reach for the sky.

Dappled panorama in a valey below,

sun plays hide and seek in the clouds.

Moon emerges over nestled hills,

ow clouds backlit by its glow.

Distant stars glimmer in an ink black expanse,

their radiance traveling through time.

Kayak slices through the waters 

of a beloved river

as it meanders 'round rocks and trees

that dip from banks

eroded by the barrage.

Human skin soaks in the rays,

the being within smiles at the shift.

Inner radiance weaves its 

way to the surface,

merges with 

the beams from our nearest star - 

reflecting,

refracting,

revealing,

releasing,

Light.

Sarah Carlson

March 16, 2013

New Light

A few weekends ago I had a wonderful time with some good friends at the brand new Stratton Brook Hut, which is part of the Maine Huts and Trails system. Our bunk room looked out over the Carrabassett Valley toward Sugarloaf Ski Area, where I've had the good fortune to ski since I was 3 years old. The dining room of the main lodge looked out over the Bigelow Range. It truly is a beautiful spot, a lovely space to unwind and recharge.
The picture above is of the sunrise on that Sunday morning. And the piece below is something that came during a busy school week following our weekend getaway.
 

New Light

I awaken, having the sense that

dawn is near.

I stretch tight muscles, tentatively

putting my feet onto the floor.

I open the door and gaze out over

the valley of my youth,

noticing the hint of colors caressing

the distant ridgeline,

bare tree branches dancing against

the backdrop.

My eyes take it in as my brain ponders

the meaning of it all.

I lean on the railing of the overlook

and settle in to simply watch and wait.

The colors become deeper, then begin to lighten

as the rocks, trees, and snowy spaces

become more distinct and defined.

I breathe in the brisk morning air and

wrap my jacket more closely around

my body.

I wonder, then, where is the sun?

When will the new light fully spread its

warmth and illumination on

this glorious scene?

And just as I think I must go inside,

there it is!

Ah, the sweetness of that new light,

bringing with it possibility, hope,

and renewal.

New light sweetly enveloping

all that I know and love.

New light illuminating all

 that is

right here,

right now.

Sarah Carlson

March 20, 2013

Dear Sarah

                                                               (photo by Emma Carlson)

This weekend I've really been missing Barry. I have experiences I want to share and events I want to process. This feeling has been one of gentle sadness, simply something to be felt and honored. I just so badly wanted to talk to him. I miss that conduit, the give and take of conversation with that person I loved and who loved me back, who just got me as I am.
I'm taking a writing class that is part of the Maine Writing Project and one assignment we have this session is to write something in a voice that has been silent. I've done something like this before (see 2010 entry titled A Conversation) in which I wrote to Barry and he 'wrote' back. When I wrote that piece I was in the very early stages of actually allowing my self to grieve. I decided to 'talk' to him again and, after a time of journaling during which I wrote to him, the following piece came. This time it was quite amazing how different it was to converse with him. And Barry, in his mellow and caring way, knew just what I needed to hear.

                                                                Dear Sarah,

It has been so long since I’ve been there

to put my arm around you and watch our children,

to feel your gentle touch and see your warm smile,

to share your love.

I know you understand that my love is still strong,

that it is a part of who you are.

 I know that you’ve wrapped it up

and keep it tenderly

right where you need it to be.

I smile as I witness you learning to love yourself.

I marvel as you intrepidly

keep putting one foot in front of the other.

You are sweet and strong, lovely and learned,

caring and kind, tender and talented.

I knew these things from the moment we met,

but now you can recognize and honor them for yourself.

They are inherently yours.

I am so proud of you and I know that you feel pride, too.

I am here and you are there -

each where we are supposed to be.

You may not know why, but it is good and right

that you now realize

it doesn’t matter.

It just is as it is and you are okay.

You chose to go into the sorrow you felt so strongly

in the days and years after my death -

a sorrow that unlocked a need to unravel and examine

other tragedies in your life.

But all that has slowly been transformed

and enfolded into your core

of beauty and light.

Keep going dear one.

You have many more learnings to share, students to teach

mountains to climb, roads to pedal,

words to write, memories to make.

I wish you well

as you continue to free yourself to feel deep joy,

experience new love, delight in happy times,

and immerse in the wonders of a

world that, fortunately,

includes you.

With deep love and admiration,

Barry

Sarah Carlson    March 2, 2013

Blind Faith

                                                            (Photo by Suzanne Carver)

Last week I was fortunate to be able to volunteer at the New England Blind and Visually Impaired Ski Festival (NEVI Fest) held at Sugarloaf. I've been a volunteer with Maine Adaptive Sports and Recreation for the past several years and have had many, many touching and empowering days with incredibly courageous people. But being a part of the NEVI Fest seemed to take things to a whole different level - 30 intrepid, inspiring blind or visually impaired skiers and over 70 compassionate, dedicated volunteers. The energy of the group was deeply wonderful and participating was truly a life-changing experience. Here is my attempt at capturing some of the feelings/sensations of being a blind guide in alpine skiing:
 

Blind Faith

He softly holds my arm, quietly

letting me know that he trusts me.

He cannot see, has never been able to,

and I am to be his guide.

We are student and teacher, both.

We walk out the door and he patiently waits

while I set his skis next to his feet.

We fumble for a bit, but eventually

 are ready to descend the first gentle trail.

I take a breath and gaze out over the valley,

 silently acknowledging that

this view I so dearly love,

that is ever-changing with the seasons, the clouds,

and the light of the sun,

is something he cannot enjoy.

We start down the slope as I carefully

call his turns,

the other guide making sure that

all is well.

We find a tentative rhythm and I see that

he sometimes fights the hill,

hasn’t quite internalized that

he is dancing with the mountain

and that it is on his side.

They are a team,

we all are.

I believe that I know what he needs -

a blind faith of my own.

And it starts to dawn on me that he

seems to know that I know.

We talk a bit, the give and take

of teacher and student, both.

I marvel at that blind faith,

at the trust and the courage that he,

one so young, displays

 as he does learn to feel the hill,

find his rhythm

 and dance his very own

mountain dance.

 I’m in awe as I again gaze

across my valley and see the tips of the peaks

bathed in the light of the low afternoon sun.

I feel a smile all through my body

 that is accompanied

by the sensations of

accomplishment and deep gratitude.

I’m not blind, I can see –

but it’s what I feel as I realize that

I deserve the blind faith

 he has put in me.

Student and teacher, both

sharing a faith in each other

 that actually

is not blind

at all.

Sarah Carlson

February 16, 2013

Beautiful... Being

There is so much that I could write to explain how this poem emerged. It has taken quite a while to come, but it wasn't at all stressful to wait. In fact, it's been really sweet. Many 'ah-hahs' have happened over the past few months - things I had thought I already understood, but that have now truly become embedded in my fabric. Many, many meanderings and I'm very grateful for all that has come from this extremely labor-intensive personal work. I'm so glad that I chose to head into the darkness, the hurt, so that I could release and learn and grow. That's not to say it hasn't been difficult at times. It has really been quite a ride. It is, however, very tiring to hurt and it occurred to me recently that at some point one must choose to walk away from the pain if possible. Walk away and take all the learnings and understandings into the newness. And I think now is the time for me. Of course I know that life cannot be without difficulty, but I finally realize that it is deeply right to feel good whenever one is able, that I don't deserve to be in pain all the time. This is the piece that explains all this as best I can at this juncture...:)
  -->

Beautiful… Being

 Bones for structure, muscles for power,

skin to hold us in.

Lungs for breathing,

eyes for seeing,

 hearts for beating and feeling.

Minds for contemplating, processing,

wondering, remembering, believing.

Past experiences - both good and bad,

happy and sad,

interweave to provide a

 flexible  structure with which we

have the ability to use our free will to

interpret and inhabit this world.

Each of us a body and soul

that form an inherently beautiful being.

Gratitude for all that we are,

all that we have.

Hopes for inner peace and understanding

of personal power  while

maintaining and cultivating

 a connection to Nature, Nurture

and Love.

Sun and moon and earth,

together in the cosmos,

provide a place where it is

inherently beautiful… being.

Sarah Carlson

January 1, 2013