The Pull of the Moon

From Mosher Hill in Farmington, Maine - October 15, 2016

I have long had a great fondness for the night sky. I have some wonderful memories of stargazing with my father and enjoy organizing full moon outings in the winter. Last night I went in search of a place to see the Hunter's Supermoon. My original idea was to go for a mountain bike ride that would include a stop on a hill that overlooks the town of Farmington to the east. However, a sighting of a bobcat along the trail accompanied by a sense of general unease led me to head to a different hilltop in my car. And here is the rest of the story:

The Pull of the Moon

I sit alone atop
a gentle hill waiting,
believing that I’m looking
in the right direction.
My body aquiver with
the chill of the evening
and the excitement
of getting away,
I take some breaths -
deeper than
I’ve ever taken before.
I feel full
of me.
I settle some and
wonder when it will come.
Just then a sliver of
the pinkish orb
slides above the
multi-hued horizon
exactly where I’m looking.
I gasp a little
and then smile a
smile that I can feel
all through my body.
Slowly,
yet quickly,
the moon
 continues its ascent
into the twilight sky.
I feel deeply grateful that
the pull of the moon
led me to be
right there,
right then,

exactly as I am.

Sarah Carlson

October 16, 2016

Rooted and Gentle Sadness

On the shore of Mooselookmeguntic Lake, Maine - looking out toward Student's Island (one of our most favorite places)

Long weekend are sometimes ... well, long. This in no way negates yesterday's poem. It's just part of the whole truth, I guess.

Rooted and Gentle Sadness

Here I am,
all these years since you died on
that heart wrenching spring day,
and I miss you.
Though the ache is less potent,
I have a rooted and gentle sadness.
I’m so grateful that our lives came together
by the shores of Saddleback Lake,
that you had the patience to wait
for me to understand how
to accept your unconditional love.
I wish you could be standing with me,
hand in hand,
to witness our beautiful children
further widen into their lives
with passions to follow
and loves of their own.
 Sometimes I wonder if you
would know me now,
would love this rather different me.
And then I smile with the knowledge
that you knew all of me the whole time.
I do believe in the sensations of your presence,
in the radiance of change,
and in all the other understandings I’ve gleaned
through years of exploring
within and without.
But sometimes I just want your arms around me,
to feel the physical connection of your love,
to be together in the here and now.
This rooted and gentle sadness
is not wrong for me to feel.
I haven’t failed at grieving.
It’s just part of my shadows

 and, in truth,
enhances my light.

Sarah Carlson

October 10, 2016

The Radiance of Change

Reflections from an October swim - Clearwater Lake, Maine

I was going to share some of the story as to how this piece emerged, but I decided to just let it speak on its own.
It's been quite a week of letting go, letting out, letting be. Enjoy.

The Radiance of Change

As the currents of my being
become more fully free,
 often I have prolonged
 moments of dropping into
my own validity.
Time and time again
congestion caused by
bygone perplexities unwinds
and allows for novelty
and liberation.
Rooted in rightness,
this involves a purposeful
willingness to let go.
I can’t change what was,
only my reactions to what
is right in front of me.
Recognizing the possibility
of old patterns pulling me astray,
I can choose to rely upon
bedrock of excavated truths
to discover a new way through.
Lovingly, tenderly
I wrap my arms around
all I’ve been,
all I am,
and all I have left to be.
I encourage the freedom of unfettering,
nurture the power of presence and
embrace the radiance of change.
There is beauty in me
right here, right now.
More and more I feel safe
to let it reflect and refract
into the light of day.

Sarah Carlson

October 9, 2016