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

Primordial Waters

Barker Brook in the afternoon sun - February 2017

As this poem emerged I kept thinking, "I feel like I already wrote this." And this helped me remember that the nature of healing is circuitous. I became filled with gratitude that I continue to have the opportunity experience the wonders of my own spirit as I access more and more relief. As Gary Paulsen puts it in his journal about his participation in the Iditiarod, it's not about winning or losing but rather, "It's all about the dance." I'm very happy that I am dancing this dance...

Primordial Waters

I love it when I feel 

an energy, a flow within
that is all at once very new,
and very old.
Primordial waters that
carry the pureness of being,
and have a truth about them
that cannot and should not
be denied.
They wash away fear and hurt
as they swirl into
 hidden, frozen places
with sure and gentle power.
There is a healing warmth to them
that soothes and replenishes,
allows for release.
For now, they also stir up
residual angst that loses
potency each and every time
I become aware of this flow.
It can be confusing as
to what to trust 
because of age-old,
ancestral patterns
that are a perplexing mix
of dysfunction and intelligence,
brokenness and resilience.
I’m learning to embrace
that which serves my healing
while detaching from that
which causes pain and despair.
I can feel the beams
of my being glimmering
and gleaming more openly
with growing freedom,
the flow of
primordial waters showing
me the way.

Sarah Carlson

February 23, 2017

Wisdom

Barred Owl that visited us for lunch - outside the window at the Flagstaff Hut

Recently my daughter Emma and I went cross country skiing in to the Flagstaff Hut, part of the Maine Huts and Trails system. As we were eating a delightful lunch, along with catching up with some other folks from Farmington who had come in on snowshoes, this Barred Owl made an appearance just outside the window on one side of the hut. As we took pictures it flew over the hut and landed in a birch tree. It stayed there for the rest of the time we were there.
When things like this happen I always marvel at how we can choose just what to make of the experience. This was especially meaningful for me because just a few days after Barry died, all those years ago, I was walking along a dirt road deep in thought. I soon noticed that an owl was going from tree to tree as if keeping watch over me as I walked. It was the first deep connection I felt to him in those very difficult early days.
This is what came this morning as I thought about recent experiences, including seeing this amazing owl with Emma.

Wisdom

I’m here, Sarah.
And I’m there,
everywhere in between -
supporting and loving you.
 Heart-y rocks,
waters flowing and frozen,
twinkling stars,
ever-changing clouds in the glorious sky.
Eagles soaring on thermals,
hawks on the wing,
 owls that visit for a woodsy lunch.
Encouragement from without to
believe, trust,
and be who you are.
It really, truly is safe.
Deep down in your core you know this.
You’ve peeled away the layers of hurt,
fully exposed the wound,
opened yourself to help and healing,
and discovered true communion.
Follow the wisdom through
which you found love,
and from which these words come.
The same wisdom that guides your teaching,
your support of others in times of need,
and that fills you with
that silvery serpentine warmth
when the effects of the wound
release and dissipate.
Do it…
Relax and ride the wisdom
that comes from those expansive
 spaces and places that are you.
Allow them to speak and
savor the burgeoning within.

Sarah Carlson

February 8, 2017