There is a Spot For Me

There is a Spot For Me

As the New Year approaches
I again find myself missing you,
deeply and lovingly.
Gentle recollections wash
sweetly around and through as
I remember the sensations of
our little family living and
growing in this home.
This was our spot, together.
Through healing, I have recognized
 that my broken, frozen places
were already there.
But during those married
and family years,
I felt like I belonged,
I had a spot.
Our togetherness and shared love
enabled my light to be quite bright.
The years since your death
have led me in, through,
below, and beyond.
I’m somewhat in awe that,
in choosing to explore and heal,
I’ve discovered a radiance
that is bright and strong,
has amazing facets that
continue to be revealed.
This once broken heart opens
so wide sometimes that it
literally feels as if all my cells uncoil
and my possibilities are endless.
The Light of Love penetrates further in
and emanates further out.
Whether in this home we shared,
or other places I know not where,
it’s wonderful to know that
even though you are gone,
there is a spot for me.

Sarah Carlson

December 31, 2017

Solstice Sun

Sunset - December 21, 2017

Solstice Sun

Solstice sun slips behind
a familiar landscape
and the darkest day is done.
That sun, though visible for so little time,
still holds warmth and brightness.
In truth, it’s us here on Earth who
are in cyclical motion,
but we perceive the sun
as traversing across our sky.
The Solstice sun rides low on the horizon,
casts long shadows,
helps us recognize
the impact of the dark.
For many days onward
there is a lightening as
radiance expands in a
rather imperceptible way.
This lightening brings with it
a deeper warmth,
a crystallizing of hope,
the promise of new life to come.
Surely the dark is part of the cycle,
will always be,
but if one is aware and
notices the expansion,
there is further opportunity
to open to the possibilities
that accompany the
splendor of light.

Sarah Carlson

December 28, 2017

On the Right Track

On the Right Track

Oftentimes I do feel
I am on the right track.
I attend to my valid sorrows,
welcome breathy joys,
value my unique self.
I am full of purpose,
radiance, and vitality.
But then sometimes
 I feel adrift, lonely,
and weary of grief.
At times tear surface and
I can't identify their origin.
They come quickly,
catch me by surprise,
clearly need to flow.
They come and they go,
but leave me with a gentle unease.
I believe that some
of the defunct lessons
I absorbed are still
unsnarling and
I don’t need to understand

 the leftover tangles.
Just the writing of that
 produces peace.
I can feel my body relax,
my mind settle,
my spirit soothe.
I think I will make the choice

 to gratefully and lovingly
continue on my way,
trust that I truly am
on the right track.

Sarah Carlson

December 27, 2017

Make No Mistake

I saw this shovel hanging on a sapling while walking the trail along the brook behind my house. It was in the early afternoon after the first snow. I was fascinated by how the load it was carrying couldn't seem to slip all the way off as it was warmed by the sun. I posted the picture with this:

Afternoon sunbeams, shovel in a tree.

Snow slides slowly, not quite free.

The next day I had an osteopathic treatment and then, as often happens, wrote a new poem inspired by some of what surfaced during and after my session. I wondered if I had a picture to pair it with and, as I looked through my photos, it became clear this is a perfect fit.

Make No Mistake

I recently realized
that I’ve lived just about all of my life
trying to not make any mistakes.
The definition of a mistake was nebulous,
didn’t come from me,
involved fear and threat.
This has been quite a revelation.
I mean, really?
I spend all my working days teaching children
that it’s okay to stumble,
that those are the times when we learn the most.
They know I accept them right where they are,
will stand by them as they recover from a blunder,
will walk with them as they move ahead.
And, in truth,
I have lived that
on some level within, as well.
But way, way, way deep down inside
the drive to make no mistake
has been a strong and swift undercurrent
with a surreptitious potency.
It made me quick to accept responsibility
whenever anything went wrong.
For so very long I assumed that the
‘push aways’ were always totally my fault.
I had this weird double standard
where I understood other people’s
struggles so easily and could
be there to support and help.
Yet, mine were because
I must have made a mistake
somewhere along the way
and I deserved to hurt.
Make no mistake?
Humanly impossible!
And so now I must remember to
be gentle with my self
as I recover and move ahead.
I will gratefully continue to receive,
allow caring and healing
to dilute and diffuse,
as the burdens I lugged for so long
continue to slip away.
Message to self:
make no mistake -
I am perfectly human,
just like anyone else.

Sarah Carlson

December 12, 2017

At the Same Time

At the Same Time

At the same time I hurt,
I am healing.
At the same time I waver,
I flourish.
At the same time I yearn,
I feel settled.
At the same time I worry,
I feel safe.
At the same time I quicken,
I am mindful.
At the same time I wonder,
I know.
At the same time I am solitary,
I commune.
At the same time I doubt,
I believe.
At the same time I
acknowledge sadness,
I feel triumph 

that can be followed by
deep, breathy, permeating joy.

It validates, allows, transmutes.
I can gaze both upward and inward,
revel in the wonders
of being me.

Sarah Carlson

November 29, 2017

Push Away, Too

Push Away, Too

Hmmm, my last poem
has me pondering deeply.
I have to be honest and say that,
since Barry died,
 I have often felt pushed away
by people in my life.
That’s been real for me.
It hurts when it happens.
It’s been confusing, too,
because I know I invite others in,
want to genuinely connect,
extend loving compassion
into the world.
I realize that not every relationship
has to be deep.
I’m fine with that,
but I don’t understand why
I so often feel like I’ve been let in,
and then get pushed away.
Is it because of my early training
that I interpret it that way?
Do I unintentionally tap things
in people that they don’t
want to allow?
Because I developed a sturdy exterior,
have an intrepid nature,
do I sometimes push away, too?
Am I simply supposed to be
primarily exploring on my own?
I think maybe it’s a combination
of all of that and more.
I’m okay with not quite knowing,
feel comfortable that I don’t
have all the answers.
I do know that I will continue to
experience these questions,
trusting that clarity will come.

Sarah Carlson

November 24, 2017

Push Away

Push Away

Push away, push away,
powerful arms hold me at bay.
Then - come in, give me advice,
help me know how to be.
I tried so hard to do what was asked,
my young mind trained to be adept
at searching for answers
that were not mine to find.
Yet, even when I did,
the push-away happened
again and again.
My being became used to
this pull and this push,
mostly the push.
Then he came along,
gently invited me all the way in.
With great patience and care
he let me know that I was welcome
just as I was,
that his arms were loving and safe.
It felt so good to belong.
Through the struggles that life
inevitably contains,
our union was strong and sure.
When he died it made sense
that I felt lost and undone.
Now, all these years later,
one of the many things
I recognize is that
my early experiences
had me believing
that God was pushing me away, too.
That was real for me,
and yet not true.
Those fierce arms
of rejection and disapproval
 have lost most of their power.
I can appreciate my actual foundation,
relish the knowledge
that it’s been there all along.
As imposed falseness crumbles away,
I carefully, steadily
allow myself to believe
that God’s arms are loving and safe, too.

Sarah Carlson
November 23, 2017
Thanksgiving

Sweet Safety, Deepened

Photo by Jake Risch - Lower Shin Pond, Maine

This piece has been through many edits - quite a different process for me. More of the radiance of change, perhaps.

Sweet Safety, Deepened

When I slow down, take a pause,
I become more fully acquainted
with the tender, loving support
of the Divine.
Once a fledgling at this,
more and more I am able to
let myself relax into it
without reservation.
As I do,
my appreciation
of its bounty and benevolence
strengthens.
I thought I already had this, knew this,
but the beautiful reality of healing
is that, once invited,
 it happens in its own time,
doesn’t need to be forced,
or judged.
The more one settles,
the more there is to discover.
There are moments
when this deep healing feels like
a viscous, balmy tonic
with an amazing propensity
of seeping into the spaces
and places that need it most.
It caresses and coats them,
sinking to the depths
like the fine sediment of
gently flowing waters.
Particles of past traumas
swirl away with the flow,
and there is visceral relief,
as that sense
of sweet safety
deepens.

Sarah Carlson

November 11, 2017

The Road Taken

Carriage Road - Acadia National Park

The Road Taken

After he died
I tried to keep going,
but eventually I simply could not.
The road I was traveling
became impassable,
and I turned to head a different way.
This has not been easy,
requiring courage and determination
that I now see are strengths for me.
I remember walking and wondering,
looking toward the distant mountains,
realizing that I needed to explore within.
I didn’t know how much work this would be,
what it really even meant,
or where it would take me.
But, from a place deep down inside
 my hurting self,
there emerged a wisdom
that I knew to follow.
I chose a different road.
Now, all these years later,
I’m so glad I did.
The road taken
has been one of sorrow and joy,
confusion and understanding,
fear and love,
pain and release.
It continues to take me to places
that provide what I need
to heal and find peace
at the time when I am ready.
I reap rewards,
feel freedom,
access the abundance
 of me.
I look forward
to where else the road taken
might lead.

Sarah Carlson

October 26, 2017

Deadwood

Witch Hole Pond Loop - Carriage Roads of Acadia National Park

Deadwood

In recognizing that what was
really, truly is
done,
there’s a toppling of things
that can be hard to name.
At times
this provides a further clarification
of what ‘it’ actually was,
though that’s not essential.
There can be some rumbling

with the tumbling,
but there’s always
a sweet sense of relief
when things do fall away.
What can appear as a chaotic jumble,
actually has a grace all its own.
It consists
of true experiences
 that were part of living life,
and did help form
some of the taproot
that anchors.
Stepping back,
one can observe the interplay
of deadwood, new growth,
and maturity,
with an understanding that,
though each and every piece
played a part in what is now,
 the deadwood
no longer
has a grip.

Sarah Carlson

October 24, 2017

Antithesis

Photo by Emma Mabel Carlson

I've worked all weekend putting the finishing touches on the manuscript for my book. This piece came today - not sure if it's a way to quell the gentle unease that has been keeping me company or if it is a good final poem for the book. Perhaps it's both. We shall see.

 

Antithesis

Limiting beliefs are a part of being human.
Life contains challenges so
these beliefs are forged by diverse experiences,
come from varied sources,
appear to be true.
They are real,
at least until one is drawn
to take a closer look.
Part of the rewards of choosing to heal
is the dispelling of those limiting beliefs
by learning to examine them
with an eye toward illuminating
what is actually true.
There are times when there’s a
slow, careful unfolding
of a shift that happens in stages
so one can adapt along the way.
Every once in a while there’s
an unexpected beacon
in the haze that
gently guides you to a new direction.
And, like a sunbeam that bursts
through storm clouds as they pass on by,
some changes can be dramatic and sudden,
take your breath away for a time.
One of my very powerful limiting beliefs
was that I had to be silent and stoic
in the face of difficult emotions,
must figure things out on my own.
A brilliant part of the radiance
 of change is that
 the making of this book
is the antithesis of
that once mighty,
now obsolete,
belief.

Sarah Carlson

October 15, 2017

It's Done

A Mother's Day Geranium that keeps on giving

It’s Done

It’s done, sweet Sarah.
All over, finished –
and we survived.
Actually, we did much more than that.
Despite the weight of the
layers of pain and fear,
we learned and loved,
wondered and wandered,
giggled and grew.
We thrived.
It’s time to embrace the fact
that you are not wrong, have never been.
Those scary experiences were real.
They did happen,
but not because of anything you did.
Nothing from those bygone days
can get you now.
What is true is that you are good,
I am good,
and together we can let
that part of our lives be over.
It’s done,
but we most definitely are not.
I am so excited to see what will come
as, together, we continue
to relax and let that big, bold energy
show its beautiful blossoms
as they stretch out into the light of day.
I will tenderly nurture all they contain
and let them show their true colors.
The sacred connection between
adult and child is right here within.
The sacred connection with whatever
you feel comfortable calling the Divine
is right where it has always been -
available, steady, real.
It’s safe, it’s right, it’s time
to trust in both
because it’s done.

Sarah Carlson

October 12, 2017

Mindfully Lonely

Cundy's Harbor, Maine

At a mindfulness workshop for health care providers and educators that I went to recently there was a question and answer time at the very end. The last question was one about how mindfulness might help with loneliness. Such an intriguing question. One of the presenters wondered if the person asking the question was referring to the deeper problem of depression. As I listened I was struck by my own feelings surrounding the topic of loneliness - that it definitely should not automatically be associated with depression or sadness and that, as one becomes more mindful, perhaps the sense of loneliness might actually be more acute - at least for a time. This all happened just after I had needed a break from the bigness of the day, had chosen to spend some time alone and had written the bulk of Inner Symphony during that hiatus.
So this is what came from that experience and further musings about the topic.

Mindfully Lonely

As I become more able to
sit with my authentic emotions
I recognize the presence, the validity
of loneliness in my life.
I’ve been able to separate it from
a sense of abandonment, so
it isn’t terribly depressing
and doesn’t stop me from staying
active and engaged.
It doesn’t prevent me from feeling
grateful for my life experiences,
including love shared.
But it is real and true that I sometimes
crave companionship,
a like-minded person with whom
to process, share, or adventure.
It’s not that I’m alone all the time,
and in fact I often choose to be.
It’s just that every so often I want
a spontaneous connection in the
here and now.
People will say,
“You know, you’re never really alone.”
Although I understand that message
and I do believe,
it doesn’t always help in moments
of genuine loneliness.
So I’ve decided to honor
the feelings that surface,
enabling my relationship
with loneliness to further change.
I’m not going to push it away,
think that there’s something wrong with me,
or feel guilty that it is there.
In other words,
I’m simply going to allow myself to be
mindfully lonely 

and see what comes.

Sarah Carlson
October 8, 2017

Inner Symphony

 October Rose Blossoms - Clearwater Lake, Maine

Inner Symphony

Occasionally I just need to get away.
I’ve always been like that, but in my youth
the opportunity to do so wasn’t always there.
The more I honor my health,
 the more I understand
that getting away is actually a going to.
When I feel overwhelmed by discordant energy
that sometimes surrounds,
it is good and right to sit with
my own orchestrations.
Whatever is there is mine,
giving me the choice of where
I want to direct my attention.
Undertones of fear and worry
once had their place,
when exposing my big energy
actually was not safe.
And so those tempos are strong.
 At times I still default to them
when I'm uneasy in the novelty
that comes with healing.
All I need to do is notice them,
maybe even say,
“Thanks for showing up,
for your help in the past,
but I think I’ll try a new way this time.”
I can breathe, let them flow through
and cascade away.
I’m the conductor now,
my inner symphony becoming
so much more harmonious as
my refreshing rhythms,
my multiple melodies
ring strong and true and free.

Sarah Carlson
October 6, 2017

Big, Bold, Beautiful Energy

Clearwater Lake, Maine - September 21, 2017 (photo by Katherine Jones Carlson)

Lower Shin Pond, Maine - September 9, 2017 (photo by Peg Willauer-Tobey)

Big, Bold, Beautiful Energy

I have big energy that,
for varied reasons,
I learned to keep in check.
Many times, in diverse ways, it has
worked to the surface
as it has a boldness all its own.
In those moments I know
I felt good and right.
But there has long been a
subterranean fear that later
made me wonder if
I was wrong,
or if something bad was going
to happen because
I let that vigor flow.
Lately there have been absolutely
beautiful moments when that energy,
my energy,
has billowed and blossomed,
unleashed and unfurled
and I’ve been able to relax,
let it reach fullness.
It’s been hard work trying to keep the lid
on all these years,
and equally difficult
uncovering the triggers and traumas
that anchored the tethers.
No longer do I have to feel fear
in liberating the vitality that is
inherent to me.
I will continue to loosen as
I honor this space
between that which was
and that which can be.
The big, bold, beautiful energy
that is mine,
that is me
need not,
should not,
will not
be denied
 any longer.

Sarah Carlson
September 26, 2017

Finding Our Way Home

Finding Our Way Home

I’ve been traveling for a while now,
searching for something
 I couldn’t fully define,
at least in my little girl world.
She grew and thrived
despite this missing link.
Together we found Love
and have accessed healing,
but we still remained unsure.
That beautiful little girl,
 now held and honored by me,
 was never comfortably
 at home before.
We’ve discovered that
what we’ve been looking for
truly is within and without,
has been all along.
It’s safe to believe
and it’s right to let go.
As we do that we are
heartfully, soulfully, lovingly
finding our way home
to our place of peace,
to the sanctity of self.

Sarah Carlson
September 12, 2017

So Happy, So Sad

Mt. Chase - Lower Shin Pond, Maine

So Happy, So Sad

It’s hard to believe
that one can experience true happiness
while carrying deep sadness.
Two polar opposite emotions coexisting
fairly peaceably within.
Right now, for me, it’s the
the joyful anticipation of our daughter’s
upcoming wedding
coupled with familiar, rekindled
heartache of missing you.
I know you’ll be there as you will,
but it won’t be with your arm
gently draped across my shoulders,
your kind blue eyes sparkling
with love for me, for her, for him,
for the amazing loves they have found.
We will all be okay.
I know that.
In fact, we will embrace the moments
each in our own way.
We will smile and laugh,
dance and cavort,
allow true happiness to unfold.
But we’ll be sad, too.
Each in our own way,
we’ll be sad
because we miss you.
So happy, so sad
at the very same time.

Sarah Carlson
August 29, 2017

Sweet Safety

Sweet Safety

Peaceful, restorative energy widens,
oozing into once hidden spaces.
Unbidden,
it simply flows wherever
there is a need.
Kind-hearted, loving being
knows now to simply allow
and welcome
without worry or defense.
More to do, more to grow,
more to heal -
but, in those moments
 she settles in to the sensations,
relishes the revelations,
honors her health.
She recognizes and embraces
the sweet safety that
should have been hers all along
and is deeply grateful for
its expansion
into her everyday life.

Sarah Carlson
August 15, 2017

From Pain to Power

Hiking Mt. Phillip in the Kennebec Highlands

From Pain to Power

One little being, part of a whole.
So very small within the bigness of it all,
of us all.
Varied pains of weary wounds

continue to heal with the help
of my indomitable will
and the supportive hands
and caring hearts of others.
As that happens I access more and more
a power within that is pure, vibrant and right.
Sometimes I feel it emanating from the
very center of my being -
a strength and sureness that,
as it widens,
quite literally cures my ills.
I learn to more
deeply trust connections
both within and without as I move,
sometimes quickly,
but more often slowly
from pain to power.
Minute and immense
at the very same time.

Sarah Carlson
August 1, 2017

Heartstrings

Morning Web - July 19, 2017

Heartstrings
 

What a relief to put words to my truth,
allow genuine sorrow to uncurl and release,
uncover the deepest underpinnings of me.
I’ve long known much of which
tugs at my heartstrings,
but some threads I was unable to honor
and they were wrapped up,
stored  away.
The need to do that was real for me,
but now I know it was faulty,
 no fault of my own.
Over time they twisted and tangled,
became a repository
for stale, unattended pain.
Parts of the jumble have unraveled,
some with purposeful work
and others on their own.
There may be more.
I don’t really know and, actually,
don’t really care.
I’m rebuilding that which was broken,
re-tethering those heartstrings
to the security of steadfast love.
There’s a vulnerability to this
as neglected emotions come to light
and pristine spaces are open,
waiting to be filled.
But I have a real sense of hope as
strands become strengthened and
more and more I trust
in forgiveness, communion
and the constancy of 
unwavering love.

Sarah Carlson
July 18, 2017

True Sorrow

Summer Skyscape  - July 16, 2017

True Sorrow

I’ve had some traumatic events and
 profound losses in my life.
I know I’m not alone in that,
but my experiences are what I’ve lived.
They are mine, true to me.
I am more clearly understanding, though,
that suffering from those difficult times
primarily comes from a
sense of separation and wrongness
that does not have to be part of my truth.
There is a heavy pain to unexpressed emotions
attached to the impact of trauma and loss.
I’ve recognized that for a while now.
I just had no idea how much
I was harboring that really
is not of me, is not mine.
For varied reasons
I learned that my hurts didn’t matter
and my pains were to be hidden,
made invisible.
That caused early sorrows to be lodged deeply within.
During my years with Barry they were coupled
with the miracle of love shared -
a tender balm to all our discomforts.
And then one beautiful spring day he died.
Sorrow upon sorrow upon sorrow.
I continued on -
living, learning, teaching, giving, loving.
When the inner aches of that loss could not be denied
 I did the best I could to attend to them
with what I knew along the way.
Now, all these years later,
I more fully recognize the veracity of my sorrows.
In allowing, honoring my so-called ‘dark’ emotions
 I have been emptying out those places within
that were stagnated with imposed falseness.
The little one was tentative as I started
 to travel into the murkiness,
but intrepidly she lets me know what she needs and,
like the billowing water vapors
of a fair-weather summer cloud,
true sorrow roils out of me,
clearing the way for
deeper and deeper healing
as my bright true-ness expands ever more freely
out into the light of day.

Sarah Carlson
July 17, 2017

Rest in That Love

African Violet and heart rocks

I don't usually 'stage' my pictures. But this is an African Violet that Barry gave to me on February 14,  2002. It has survived my not-so-green thumb, a house renovation and tipping over a few times in my car. The heart rocks are just a few from my collection. The left one is from the coast of Maine, the middle one is from the Sandy River (found in the water, partially covered with sand) and the one on the right is my most recent from Burnt Island. This montage just seemed appropriate to the following poem:

Rest in That Love

I felt it today,
but in a different, more profound way.
That complete circuit
of beautiful, intricate bonds between
mother and child,
soulmate and soulmate,
Untainted by the aches and pains
of heartache and loss,
before grief and sorrow
found a handhold and
clouded the purity
of the connection.
I’m so happy, so relieved
to recognize even more deeply
that it’s still there.
A force so strong that it surfaces
amid the confusion and angst
that can accompany
the sorting and shifting
of the process of healing.
The fact of the matter is -
I love them with all my heart and soul.
Though I do not profess to
have been a perfect wife or mother,
I know that I surrounded them with,
immersed them in,
 love.
And they me.
Gentle, caring man who
saw the me that I am all along.
Blue-eyed, thoughtful boy
free with his questions and hugs.
Tender-hearted, adorable girl
who smiles and cries
with her whole being.
It’s vital now for me to allow myself
to rest in that love,
trust that we will continue to find our way.
No judgment, no stress.
Simply allowing this widow, this mom
to lay back, take a deep breath
and soak in the sweet sensations of love shared
with a man, a boy and a girl.
It's time now

to calmly and quietly

rest in that love.

Sarah Carlson

July 5, 2017

Free

Burnt Island - June 29, 2017

Six years ago I took a class at the Burnt Island Education Center. I returned there for the first time since then this past week. I didn't anticipate the amount of emotion I would feel, but as I arrived I remembered that my father had been in the last stages of his life when I was there the first time. There are other things happening in my family right now that involve the process of healing. I will leave it at that, but I had an experience on my last day that evolved into this poem. We were doing a mindfulness activity at the top of the island that was centered around the topic of listening and being available to others. The presenter played a song that really touched my heart. I paid attention to my own needs, knowing I needed to step away and be by myself. I walked down a rocky path to a spot that I love just below the lighthouse. I let my thoughts and emotions ebb and flow, cried some wonderfully cleansing tears, allowed the ocean breezes to dry them from my face. As I walked back I saw this flower in the garden. I wasn't sure why, but knew I needed a picture.
Today, on what would have been my 38th wedding anniversary, I put the finishing touches on this:

Free

It wasn’t my fault that he died.
At first I thought that since our love was so deep
I somehow should have known,
should have been able to do something.
That dissipated, but the sense
that at least I could have protected
our children from the pain of losing him hung on.
For fifteen years I thought I had failed -
him and them.
But I didn’t.
I’m not that powerful.
However, the love we shared is.
I still have that and so do they,
at least for their foundation.
That’s all I can do -
love and cherish them, hope for their healing.
And I do, so very much.
But their hurts are theirs, not mine.
I have plenty of my own.
As I continue to recognize
and embrace my true self
I learn more and more the importance
of letting go, letting be.
No more will I feel responsible for the
brokenness of others

or believe that my needs come last.

 The rest of the fabric of lies
that were woven into my childhood

will no longer have a place in my life.
I release their grip, my grip
and feel the softer,
more pliable and reliable protection
of Mother Love and Father Love
around and through me.
I welcome the promise of
 further opening, blossoming,
stretching into my being.
I feel safe and right,
I feel worthy of love.
I feel free.

Sarah Carlson

June 30, 2017

Top of the Island

Burnt Island Sunrise - June 29, 2017

Top of the Island

First one up, the top of the island calls to me.

Gentle morning colors spread across the sky,

reflect in the rhythmic, quiet sea.

Undersides of the wispy clouds 

are tinged with pink, and promise.

Slowly the sun makes its way 

above the opposite shore

as the warmth it provides 

caresses my waiting cheeks.

I take a deep breath,

open wide my arms and my heart,

feeling grateful to greet a new day

in such a magical place.

Sarah Carlson

June 30, 2017

Silver Linings

60th birthday gift from friend and artist, Mardy Bogar

On this Summer Solstice day... shared with a sense of deep personal accomplishment:

Silver Linings

Generational darkness composed
of unexplored, unexpressed emotions
surfacing primarily as unproductive anger.
She heard it, felt it,
wanted so badly to help make it right.
Layer upon layer
it was pressed upon her,
a burden she thought she had to carry,
that there was no other choice.
There’s an energy to it
that’s embedded in the walls,
the furniture, the air
of the structure that was.
The effects became infused into
her beautiful being.
Yet, there were always beams of lovely light
shining their way through
the ominous clouds that saturated the scene.
Having experienced love and loss,
grief and gratitude,
healing and hope
she recognizes now that
those gloomy storm clouds of her past
are not of her
and she can let them billow away.
It’s not her fault their shadows
found harbor within.
It’s not wrong that she needs
help in order to continue to heal.
There is no danger in
allowing her true self to show.
 She knows she doesn’t
need to fully understand
all the origins, the roots of past traumas.
She gleans what she needs,
embraces both sorrows and triumphs
as more pristine, shiny pieces
are discovered,
held and honed.
No matter how dark the skies
silver linings do become available
for the eye to behold
if only one takes the time
and the space to look.
She learned that from them, too.

Sarah Carlson
June 21, 2017

Cozy Light

Shin Pond Sunrise - May 28, 2017

Cozy Light

In awakening there is a recognition of arrival
 coupled with departure,
in the ongoing progression of time.
A subtle lightening as newness slowly unfolds,
bringing with it familiarity
and the unknown.
All that has been is present
like a solid mountain silhouetted
against a fledgling sky,
calmly reflected in the fluid depths.
Some of what was will wash away,
carried by currents of watery wisdom.
Movement that is understood,
or not.
Quiet clouds may
work their way into the scene,
flowing with the winds
be they gentle or strong.
All that will be is yet to come
as the softness of the rising sun widens
and stretches into the light of day,
the hopeful promise of clear skies
ever present and real.

Solitary being surveys the scene,
ponders and wonders,
then draws in her breath,
grateful for the moment she is in.
She feels a sense of immersion
as a freedom unlike
any she has ever known gradually unfurls.
She kindles her inner embers
to let the cozy light of newness
permeate her body
and expand out into the developing day,
 willing any remaining debris
to softly flow away.

Sarah Carlson
May 30, 2017

Peaceful Acceptance

Looking Up - Backyard of Tara and Toby Burdet and Aaron Nau

Peaceful Acceptance

Tender moments of connection
await awareness as
the need for understanding relaxes.
Simultaneously sinking in and rising up,
 one is able to
access knowing,
trust togetherness,
savor the freshness
 and energy of expansion.
Waters of being flow freely,
breath diffuses deeply,
heart pulsates purely
and there is a tuning in,
a tuning out.
Bits of bedrock beneath
may rumble or tumble,
then sift and settle
 in new places
with a sweet sense of
of realignment,
a suspension of striving,
an opportunity to just be.
 Tangled tendrils
no longer matter
and the taproot is nourished
by what is real and right,
as it has been all along.
A reaching without seeking,
a simple stretching,
a peaceful acceptance of now.

Sarah Carlson
May 21, 2017

Father Love

Clearwater Lake, Maine

Father Love

Gentle, steady acceptance

coupled with a deep, strong sureness.

I know you’ve been there all along,

but for varied reasons I just couldn’t

quite trust all the way, all the time.

I thought I had to hide, protect,

stay strong on my own.

But, just when I was beginning to

understand the primary reasons

for perceived wrongness,

there you were.

In those sweet, tender moments

between sleep and awakening

you simply sat with me in silence

until I became aware of your presence.

One hand on my shoulder, one on my leg

you calmly offered compassionate connection

without judgment.

I didn’t even ask you to come,

at least not to my knowledge,

so your visit was a pleasant surprise.

I vacillated between true communion
 and vestigial patterns of unease.

Even now, though,

I can remember the sublime energy of being with you

and how it felt benevolent and right.

No reason to fear, no need to be ashamed

or feel anything but love.

After letting those sensations

sit and settle for a while

I realize what you offered that morning

was unconditional Father Love -

that, in truth, it’s always there.

It’s reminiscent of moments

with my dad learning the stars

and finding pictures in the clouds,

of what I saw in my brother’s eyes

as he watched his babies for too few years,

and what I felt with Barry as he reveled in being with

with our babies, children, young adults.

I miss them all so very much -

dad, brother, husband.

I know their love is with me still

as I’m becoming more free

to receive, embrace your love.

Perhaps it is actually all the same force.

Thank you for your visit

in the wee hours of the morning

to help me be more aware,

more accepting of ubiquitous

 Father Love.

Sarah Carlson

May 16, 2017

Relax and Rise

Great Wass Island, Maine

Dear Sarah,
Godsend,
that you were, that you are.
Grasp this truth as
you lift yourself out of the quagmire,
release yourself from those pesky tendrils
that try to draw you back.
Because of them you had to
wear strength like armor,
though, thankfully, you knew to let my love in.
You may feel vulnerable in your newness,
but you are so inwardly strong now.
All those moments we shared
as friends, lovers, parents
are woven together
with a warp of love, a weft of truth.
All those moments of healing
that you have experienced
 in the years since I died
have the same warp and weft.
Relax and rise as you
soak in the warmth,
allow your being
 to open all the way.
Relax and rise,
protected and supported
by that beautiful, growing
fabric of love and trust.
I love you, too.
You will always have that,
but there’s more.
Allow the Light of Love
to saturate and radiate
further in and further out.
Relax and rise, sweet Sarah,
relax and rise.

With love,

Barry

Sarah Carlson

May 3, 2017

Godsends

The Love Plant - has bloomed three times since it was given to me - on Memorial Day, Thanksgiving and Easter

Godsends

Dear Barry,
I’m here again needing
to connect with you.
I’ve been sorting through
all my poetry in the hopes
of publishing so that maybe
our love, my healing from
your departing
will help others.
More and more I cherish how
you were a godsend to me,
and I to you.
That’s the word that dropped
into my head yesterday
when I thought of you
as I pondered which
pieces of my heart to share.
Godsend.
It’s all through the writings
I’ve done these past years,
that sense of rightness of
the intertwining of our lives.
I’m just so grateful for your love,
for the caring protection
you extended just by being you
with me.
And even though it has not
been easy to adjust to your death,
I’m grateful for the fruits
of my labors as I
forge ahead
and more fully bloom.
They are godsends, too.
I love you, Barry.
I always will.
I'm so happy that we
were godsends for
each other.

Sarah Carlson

April 28, 2017

Fatherly Love

Carrabassett Valley, Maine - the Bigelows from Sugarloaf Mountain

Life surely is complicated. When one decides to explore the complexities of the past as I have there are so many layers and levels involved. Though at times tiring and perplexing, it's also amazing and freeing.

Yesterday I felt the love of my dad during an Osteopathic treatment. He's been gone for over 5 years now and it felt nice to experience this, to be sure. I think he would want me to share... and if not, I'm going to anyway because I get to choose...

I chose the above picture because the Carrabassett Valley was one of his favorite places as he spent many hours skiing the trails of Sugarloaf. I love the shadows, the vastness, the frozen sides of the trees as they solidly endure the weather.

There's more to the story, but I'm going to let the poem and the picture speak for themselves.

Fatherly Love

I sit on his lap as he wraps strong, safe arms
around my vibrant little body.
“I love you sweet Sarah,”
he whispers into my ear.
I feel my whole being light up.
Disdain and anger soon enter the room,
but his love envelops me in
a protective, though fragile, bubble.
Years later I run across the front lawn
and jump into those shielding arms.
He spins me round and round -
gently, but with gusto.
I giggle at first, then ask him to stop.
He does so quickly and checks to see if I am okay.
I am when we are outside,
but we go in to where jealousy and despair
pulsate and pervade.
His protection wanes as time passes
and my being becomes more and more unsure.
Eventually it’s clear that, though he means well,
he just can’t ward it off any more.
He’s become enmeshed in it
as it relentlessly attacks from multiple origins.
In fact, he’s actually complicit
as they all enable each other
in a twisted nest of dysfunction
and denial of the truth.

I move on in my life with
gentle courage and quiet strength
that lead me to find pathways to healing.
I am expanding more and more
into my fullness now,
though he’s gone.

I think I felt him today, though.
It’s been so long, but I think I sensed
his untainted fatherly love .
All the layers of yuck were peeled away
and I had just a few moments of
trusting it, allowing it, feeling
safe to be with it.
I know my father loved me,
but he just couldn’t protect me
as things were then.
Maybe, just maybe,
I can let the purity of fatherly love
embrace me now.

Sarah Carlson

April 18, 2017

Mother Love

Artwork by Judith Aldrich - June 2015

For a long time I've understood that some things that I can freely put out into the world were/have been missing for me. Part of my healing has been to feel this, get this - physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Yesterday I had an experience that, I believe, was and will continue to be part of ongoing transformation...

Mother Love

I open sleepy eyes and see her
peering over the edge of the crib,
carefully checking… on me.
The pureness of her
love oozes over the rail,
between the slats
 as it gently winds around
and through my being.
Her kind eyes sparkle with the
simple joy of being my mom.
I feel comfortable
 within though
my blanket has fallen away,
the warmth of her guardianship
and acceptance
wrapping me in safety.
She picks up my blanket,
folds it and sets it aside.
She knows that in that moment
I have no need for it.
Slowly and gently she slides
her hands under me and lifts.
I am at once suspended
and connected,
my foundation
healthy and strong.
She lays me against her and
I feel our hearts beating together,
though each has a chest of its own.
I snuggle my face
into the tenderness of her skin,
close my eyes and
allow myself to soak in
the sweet, soft sensations of
Mother Love.

Sarah Carlson

April 4, 2017

Mourning Light

Sunrise in my front yard - March 22, 2017

The morning after experiencing a very powerful and healing Osteopathic manipulation this was the scene as the sun rose over my neighborhood. I was making breakfast and noticed a serene purple glow outside my kitchen window. I stepped out onto my deck with my camera and was able to capture just a taste of this magical, but fleeting scene. I felt as if I was in a bubble of beauty that most certainly included me. Just after I took this picture a snow squall blew through, but the feelings and emotions have stayed with me as a gentle sensation of rightness.
Here is my attempt to put words to what seems to be happening within:

Mourning Light

No one has the right
to tell another where
or when or how
 to grieve.
A softness comes
to mourning
as authentic
emotions are free
to come to light.
A gentle dawning unfolds,
surrounds,
weaves its way
within and without,
 a welcome glow of
ethereal awareness.
As morning sun penetrates
 the darkness of night,
so does mourning light
 seep its way into
a being who chooses
to explore the

diverse and intricate

facets of grief.
What a pure and 

tender experience
it is to behold
and embrace
the beauty, 

the grace,

the rightness
of mourning light.

Sarah Carlson

March 23, 2017

Awaken

Morning after Winter Storm Stella - March 15, 2017

Awaken

Through the night
 wild winds blow,
shaking me to my core.
Multi-faceted roots
hold fast to the sure and solid earth
as a sparkling, pristine
blanket shields me in my slumber.
Branches of my being quiver and quake
 in the onslaught of the blizzard,
but I find my rhythm and
learn to dance with the storm,
yield to its power,
discover from its might.
Morning comes as the sun slides
above the horizon,
begins to warm the chilly air,
sends shadows skittering
across the crystalline scene.
There is a promise,
a quickening as
roots stretch,
trunk expands,
branches swell
with a readiness to bud.
Awaken
to a new day,
a coming season,
a deserved rebirth.
Awaken
 to the freshening,
the unfettering,
the freeing.
Awaken
 to being
right here,
right now.
Let the storm pass and
awaken.

Sarah Carlson

March 15, 2017

Watery Wisdom

Grand Falls on the Dead River in Maine    March 5, 2017

Last weekend, on a very cold and blustery day, I joined a group of intrepid women on an adventure to the Grand Falls Hut on the Maine Huts and Trails system. Along with the cold weather, there were many other reasons to not head up the trail. A young member of the Farmington ski community had been killed in a horrific accident on nearby Sugarloaf Mountain the day before, a member of our group had been injured the previous evening because of icy conditions, and the trail was 8 miles long with no chance for communication along the way. We all had inner concerns and wonderings and yet each of us made the choice to trust in our abilities and our strength and made our way into the hut.

The trail was along the Dead River, but I have to say that I felt very much alive. It was so cold that there was very little stopping along the way. My water bottle froze, along with my fingers when an attempt was made to dig food out of my bag. And so we kept putting one foot in front of the other, some of us on skis and others on foot. Women, 24 in all, arrived throughout the afternoon and there was a sense of togetherness, a camaraderie that took on new meaning in light of the tragedy of the day before.

It was a bit warmer for our trip out on Sunday. The high for the day was predicted to be 15 degrees, as opposed to 7 the day before. I took the above picture of Grand Falls that day as I stood mesmerized by the beautiful scene.

This poem has been emerging over the past week and came together today. I am so grateful for many
things in my life, among them what I've learned along the way as I've healed and adjusted to loss and change. I attended visiting hours and the funeral of the young man who lost his life at Sugarloaf and his family and friends were in my mind, in my heart as I wrote this, too.

Watery Wisdom

Varied currents within
a body whole,
ranging from
grief to gratitude
fear to joy,
despair to faith.
Transitory emotions that
ebb and flow within us all,
a true human experience.
Jagged, frozen places
can and will thaw
in the right way,
at the right time
if one makes the choice
to dive in and explore
the depths of being.
A drip or two at a time
may join the stream,
or an opening may form
whitewater wildness
with an energy of its own.
When the times are right
the vapors of angst will release,
 allowing for moments of stillness,
chances to explore eddies
as they swirl and adjust,
or simply the opportunity
to let go,
 let flow.
The one constant in life
is change
as reflective,
bubbling,
trickling,
streaming,
cascading,
 waters
so clearly
 show.
Water knows,
and deep inside
we do, too.

Sarah Carlson

March 12, 2017

At One

Lower Narrow Gauge at Sugarloaf USA - Feb 20, 2017

People often ask what I say when I am guiding my friend Noah Carver, who was born blind. When we are skiing whatever is said has to be pretty concise, especially now that his technique has improved so much that he is ready and willing to ski pretty fast. Basically we use "And right, and left" for calling turns and the word 'hold', sometimes repeated more than once, to traverse and adjust where we are on the trail. When we get on a flat I often say, "Let 'em run, let 'em run," until the slope falls away again. When we are going to stop I try and get him to the side of a trail and then have him turn so he is facing toward the center of the trail. For instance, if we were heading to the left side of the trail I would say, "And right to a stop." Other than that, we just ski!

We had an amazing day skiing together earlier this week. It was an experience that really touched me in many ways. The following poem is an attempt to capture the sensations of the day and was written as a gift to Noah, who in turn is a gift to so many... Thank you, Noah, for all the positive energy you put into the world.

At One

‘Okay, give a push and we’re off…
And right, hold, hold, hold,
And left, hold, hold.’
We head down a favorite trail
as I work to find a sweet spot,
 a perfect fall line with
no other skiers in our way.
‘And right, hold,
And left, hold,
And right, hold, hold, hold…’
Ahhh - there it is,
we have our opening.
Right,
left,
right,
left,
right,
left …
It feels as if we could
go on and on and on
as we fly down the slope
in a rhythmic dance.
A sense of trust,
an openness of spirit,
a connection that goes
far beyond any words
between us.
A synergy that,
for a time,
makes us feel
at one
with the mountain
we both love.

For Noah
From Sarah
February 24, 2017

Lower Narrow Gauge, Sugarloaf USA - Photos by Suzanne Carver