I Am Worthy of Love

My first spiral. Drawn at Kripalu while participating in a Creative Writing Sampler with Heather Sellers

I've been cleaning house lately - literally and metaphorically. Barry was a very sentimental, and somewhat random, guy. He kept things in various envelopes and boxes in no particular order, so opening one is like going on a sort of magical mystery tour. I have had many sweet, tender, and validating discoveries.
Along the way we faced our share of difficult times, but what stands out as I reflect is family togetherness and fun. All through the years in this house there has been a foundation of love. The unconditional kind that was there from the very beginning of our relationship.

Here's an excerpt from a journal I found in one of the boxes. I was 20 and we had known each other for about 2 years:
Sept. 12. 1977
Barry has taught me so much. He helped me find love in a new way and has shown me how to express it. He has helped me realize that I am just as good as the next guy - in other words he has given me some self-confidence, something I truly need. I love Barry in a way that I never thought I could feel for another person. He is such a wonderful man and I am glad we are sharing our lives. I hope we find the life we want and that some day we can share that life with little ones. Barry has such a wonderful quality of gentleness and kindness. It would be a shame not to pass that on.

 As I've been cleaning, both within and without, I am once again awed by the layers, the twists and turns that this life presents. And by how much learning there is to each and every experience. Though this has been hard work and I've shed many tears, I'm so glad that I've been able to follow the meanders of my heart as I heal from the difficult times, remember the joyful ones, and tap more deeply into the wonders of unconditional love.

  I Am Worthy of Love

Though there was chaos and confusion
in my homespace,
I know Love,
I can Love,
I am worthy of Love.

I was deeply unsure as
I tried to be good,
to be right,
to not make a mistake.
It took so much energy.
 I thought that when things
went wrong it was somehow my fault
and I needed to fix the damage,
no matter how it affected me.
I came last.
When he fell into my life we were
sad, sore and broken both.
But we let each other into
our soul places,
knowing it was right.
  Unconditional love for each other,
and later
for our little ones.
The dark place that housed the
chaos and confusion opened
all the way up
when he died.
I knew to dust off the contents,
examine the pieces,
and am learning to let go.
The Light of Love continues
to illuminate that which I
need to understand
as I become ready.
 I feel grateful and hopeful,
peaceful and strong.

Though there was chaos and confusion
in my homespace,
I know Love,
I can Love,
I am worthy of Love.

Sarah Carlson

August 28, 2016

Softer Around Their Edges

Early morning at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health - August 5, 2016

Softer Around Their Edges

Waters of being flow
with tender, tranquil freedom.
Still some spiral into depths,
re-emerge with fresh awareness.

Expanding currents of clarity wash away
stale doubts and fears
rooted in truths
that simply are not true.
Detached despair lifts, dissipates -
warmed by the light
of a brand new day.
Body twitches and quivers
with pristine energy
as bits and pieces settle,
softer around their edges
than ever before.

Sarah Carlson
August 9, 2016

A Poem for Barry

Left by me... in the Kripalu Meditation Garden

Before I went to Kripalu last week I paid a visit to Barry's brother and sister in Northampton, MA. I had not been there in a few years and it was nice to be back in their hometown. Barry and I had lived there early in our relationship and had brought our children to visit with family over the years. I had many memories wash over me as we drove along and over the Connecticut River. 

The morning I was to leave, twin brother Larry took sister Sandra and me to a section of a cemetery that had pavers with the names of veterans. He had purchased one that reads 'Francis J. Carlson, Barry F. Carlson, Larry J. Carlson - US Army Veterans'. That, along with a stone in another cemetery, were touching to see with Barry's wonderful siblings.

Of the many things we worked on in the Creative Writing Sampler with Heather Sellers this past week were some poetic forms, one of them being abecedarius - a type of ABC poem. 

I think because I had revisited Northampton and seen his name in stone, I spiraled gently back to Barry's death day. And this is the abecedarius that came as I worked on 'homework' in the middle of my last night at Kripalu.

Letters on pavers, letters on stone, letters on a page... 

A Poem for
Barry. May 29, 2002. I’m in my
classroom, but my attention is
drawn outward. Even sweet second grade
energy doesn’t keep me fully
focused. A quiet, shy
girl asks for help. Two boys collaborate on ‘The Anty Adventures of Bob and
Harry’. My ed tech talks with her
individual student as he works on a poem.
Jack, my mathematician, writes his own
kind of story with numbers and words.
Light streams in the large casement windows
making patterns on the worn hardwood floor.
No reason, but I walk
over, look out to see a Farmington
policeman stride toward the front door. I
quiver when the intercom beeps and I’m called down
right away. The
somber young officer tells me you collapsed playing
tennis, I’m needed at the hospital. Somehow I
understand that my life is shifting. The
very moment I turn into the hospital drive an energy
washes over me - strong, palpable, undeniable. Later I know
exactly what it is.
Your Love. I know this to be true. And like a
zephyr it weaves its way into my life, even today.

Sarah Carlson
in my room at Kripalu
August 4 into 5, 2016

Ode to My Flip Flops

Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health, August 2016

Big day yesterday at Kripalu. Emotions tapped by deep discussion, yogic releases, quiet time in the meditation garden, spirited Kirtan concert and some bonding with my flip flops.

Ode to My Flip Flops

In lime-green readiness
you lay askew.
I kicked you aside
after last night’s
squeaky return
from a shower.
I was tired and uneasy
and yet
there you are.
No pressure,
 no judgement.
Simply available if
needed.
Your sound reminds me of
summer days in the sixties
and freedom.
I can picture you on the tiles
of the entryway
at home.
And that helps me remember
I am free and
it is safe to be me
in this
unfamiliar place.

Sarah Carlson
at Kripalu
August 3, 2016

Let It Sing

Taken while aboard the Noah's Ark - off Great Wass Island, Maine

I am at a writing program at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in the Berkshires. Yesterday we had an assignment - a 10 minute writing exercise inspired by the work we had done during the day and by How to Be a Poet, by Wendell Berry.

After I wrote this, the picture above came to mind.

Let It Sing

(so I remember)


Drop in. Listen.
Allow the flow
from within.
Let the deep places speak -
from you, for you,
with you.
Notice what surfaces
as it swirls, sifts
and then settles
just as you need
it to be.
In those moments
your heart sings a song
of you.
So drop in. Listen.

And let it sing.

Sarah Carlson

August 1, 2016