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