With You and Without You

Barry Carlson and Sophie at Campsite 15 on Students Island, Mooselookmeguntic Lake, Maine

, 2001

I always miss my husband, Barry, the most on New Year's Eve. I've written about it many times and it happened again this evening. It feels really good, to be honest. Odd, but good. And something I will continue to adjust to as my life goes on...

With You and Without You

Dear, dear Barry,
Another New Year’s Eve without you.
There are so many
 with you
to remember and cherish as those
 without you
continue to grow.
I know you know how grateful I am
for the times I shared
with you.
But, you are gone,
have been for quite some time,
and I’ve had to work hard
 to adjust to life
 without you.
I know your love remains
a part of my life now.
Recently, though, for the first time
I realized that I can actually be whole
without you.
It seems so simple when I say it aloud,
but actually it has been quite complex
to get to this point.
I was just a kid when we met
and our togetherness
became a cornerstone for me.
I remain grateful for that.
I always will.
But, the time has come for me
to live more fully into my life
without you.
I carry all that we were,
that we had,
tenderly within.
I know your presence and support
will show every
now and again

in sweet and subtle ways.
I’m strong and able,
open and hopeful,
excited about further recovery.
I’m ready to move forward
with you and without you
in a completely singular way.

With so much love,

Sarah

December 31, 2018

Fully Born

Fully Born

I’m realizing that which was
fully borne by me,
that which should never have been
mine to convey,
has largely been set down for good.
For the good of me, that is.
It was not wrong of me to
lug it for so long.
I simply didn’t know any better.
At times anger wends its way into my being
as I more clearly understand the
contents of the satchel
that weighed me down for so long.
Anger for the imposition,
the false sense of ownership,
the absurdity of it all.
But, in the setting down,
the letting go,
there’s a distinct feeling of 

hmmm…
I think it’s best expressed
as re-birth.
Or, more clearly, a sense of being
fully born.
All the wonderful bits and pieces
that have long been part of me
are adjusting to being 

without the weight
of that old, worn satchel.
I feel grateful that

 I had the strength to carry it,
found my way to safely 

examining its contents,
and now have the opportunity
to drop in
to the newness of being
fully born.

Sarah Carlson

December 31, 2018

To Be Sure

The Cascades -Sandy River Plantation, ME
Photo by Sheryl Farnum

To Be Sure

Slate - the finest grained metamorphic rock.
It foliates in planes perpendicular to the direction of compression.

Sometimes there is a hollowness to healing,
like some sort of scouring out.
But, at the same time a fullness is present,
or maybe a filling is more accurate.
This emptiness can be fleeting,
or last a while.
No right or wrong –
it happens as you need it to be.
It’s as if you become a blank slate,
yet the processes and layers that
formed, fused, cracked,
shifted along the way are still there,
part of your bedrock.
You can access their
energy and history anew,
revisit the wide range
of stories in the layers.
Sometimes a fresh plane emerges,
taking you completely by surprise.
For me it was a fervent missing
of my soulmate as the holidays approach,
followed by the sudden understanding
that I can, in fact,
be whole without him here.
His physical presence, I mean.
Just 18 when our lives merged,
I did not realize how much
I defined my self by our union.
No wonder the aftermath of his death
has taken so long to decipher.
Now I can even more deeply feel
how our time in tandem is
gracefully embedded in my layers
and that my substratum
has long been strong.
My slate is actually quite full,
yet has space for future foliation.
Understandable grief
 accompanied by expanding faith.
A Happy Solstice,
to be sure.

Sarah Carlson

December 21, 2018

Yesteryear

My family in front of a Sugarloaf trail map - circa 1963

Yesteryear

One wing strong,
the other still healing,
she continues to stretch into
her very own self.
She must have borne the load
on that side –
heaving, sorting, shifting,
trying with all her might.
Plenty has been set down,
but her body
harbored memories
deep within.
She understands now that
the releasing and relearning
 take time
and she must be patient.
Her highly trained, analytical side,
so attuned to looking for answers,
needs time to relax
into all
being well.
She savors the moments when her
poetic essence shines through,
treasures the recognition that it
has been there all along.
As bitter, stale pains heal
memories of good times surface.
She pauses in stillness,
sits by the side of her serene lake,
feels even more tension unwind.
A little girl smile spreads
across her wholesome face.
Yesteryear contained both
heartache and happiness.
As sourness recedes,
she remembers to taste
the sweetness, too.

Sarah Carlson

December 18, 2018

Wintry Twilight

Wintry Twilight

Crisp air, crunchy snow, waning light,
solstice looming.
I rush to fit in a quick ski
after an energizing,
yet tiring day.
Tension slips away as
my skis glide on the grooming.
The familiar fullness
that comes
in the company of trees
and sky
and self locomotion
feels welcome.
I stop for a moment to
breathe it all in,
gazing up
 to a crescent moon
drifting above
bare branches
as they tickle
the wintry twilight sky.
Gratefully
 I slide
 into the evening.

Sarah Carlson

December 11, 2018

Above the Fray

Above the Fray

Ah… sweet freedom.
Riding thermals on strengthening wings
with time and space to
observe, glean, release.
Circling for the sheer joy
of making a turn,
feeling forces at play,
allowing winds of change
to work their magic.
Pristine images of nature-speak
provide opportunity for
twisting the lens as needed.
Vibrant body, calm mind, settled heart
meld together as
 residual tension wisps away.
She realizes she may never
know the whole story.
And yet,
she rises –
 clearly, freely, uniquely
above the fray,
secure in the knowledge that
whatever the origin
it was theirs,
not hers.
She knows that life will
contain new challenges
along the way.
But, whatever caused
that particular darkness
 is over.
She can
 and will
let it
be so.

Sarah Carlson

December 4, 2018

Serene Lake Within

Serene Lake Within

Along the shores of a placid lake,
next to a lovely little cabin,
the world as she knew it erupted
in both scary sights
 and vicious sounds.
Her tender, 7 year old essence
was deeply impacted in those moments.
She remembers the event,
how she and her brother retreated
as far away as they could.
She doesn’t remember
any words between them,
just the shared energy of
fear, shock, and wonder –
not the good kind.
She remembers being glad he was there,
now wishes he were still here
so they could recover together.
She doesn’t remember
 how the quarrel began,
or any talking to process it after.
She does remember
 skirmishes that led up to it,
and feeling defeated
 in her multiple attempts
at making things right
in the years that followed.
Her adult mind drifts
 to another tranquil lake where
 her life was again altered,
this time by Love.
In the here and now,
she is profoundly grateful for
the tenderness of that Love,
her ongoing insights from
rising above the fray,
and her growing sense of unity
with the Divine. 
She feels an inner stillness,

 her very own serene lake within,
free from the confusing undercurrents
of that long ago battle
and its turbulent aftermath.

Sarah Carlson

December 1, 2018

Simply Still

Simply Still

Whether striding ahead with gusto,
 taking small exploratory steps,
or pausing to take it all in
progress comes,
healing happens.
Even meandering
 back to what was,
seeing it anew,
 supports growth.
Withered leaves fall,
swirling winds blow,
water continues its cycle
even when frozen
on the ground.
Changes,
some obvious
 in their radiance,
others sweetly subtle,
continuously occur.
Forward
is often considered
to be moving
 straight ahead,
but, in reality,
is in varied directions
and includes interludes.
Expansion can and will happen
when you free yourself to be
simply still.

Sarah Carlson

November 27, 2018

Tranquil, Wide Horizon

Gratitude comes at various times, in sometimes surprising circumstances. I'm extremely thankful to be at this point in my healing.

This poem is largely about my dad, who passed away 7 years ago yesterday. I visited him each of the first 9 days he was at the Togus Hospice. Then I remember realizing that whatever was happening within him wasn't about me, that he and I were good. So, as he lay there silently doing his own work, I said my good byes. He died a few days later.

One of my biggest fans, especially of my poetry, I know he would be grateful for the healing I've accessed, for the shift that this piece represents.

Tranquil, Wide Horizon

Two ships sail on a foggy sea,
their courses diverge.
One heads to brighter, freer days,
the other set to travel
 in the same unending denseness.
Its cargo includes
drums of despair,
heaps of heartache,
barrels and barrels of burdens.
With feet firmly planted on
the deck of my own ship,
I raise a steady hand,
 wave a misty-eyed good bye.
Those on the deck,
at the helm,
 of that galleon of gloom,
had brightness mingled with
 their shadows,
but distress and tension reigned.
I was on that ship for a time,
my caring heart,
loving nature
groomed to lug a load
that was not mine.
I had to disembark,
climb aboard a ship of my own –
not an easy feat.
Though my shoulders still ache
from the strain of those years,
I carry gratitude
as more and more I discern
transcendent, lively
 treasures within.
That dark ship has sailed.
 My voyage continues as I look
to the tranquil, wide horizon that beckons.
I hear the gentle waves,
marvel at the starry sky of night,
feel the warmth of
continually emerging light
wafting over the welcoming seascape.
I breathe deep the refreshing air,
fill with acceptance,
wellness, and love.

Sarah Carlson

November 22, 2018
Thanksgiving

Softly, More Softly

Softly, More Softly

So often we are in a rush.
Do this, solve that,
make it better… now.
But, in truth,
that which is worth exploring
often takes time to fully comprehend.
Instinct helps me allow and encourage this
as the amazing young beings
in my classroom ebb, flow,
gather, and grow –
each in his or her
impeccably unique way.
Why, then, do I feel
I must hurry?
Why am I, the teacher,
often dashing to get from
here to there?
Why do I, the author,
think I must scramble to make sure
my words and images fly
out of the boxes,
off the shelves?
What causes the healing me to
sometimes wonder about failing
if I don’t fully enfold newness
 right away?
This educator, this author,
this sparkling woman
knows that, in truth,
illumination is like the
twisting of a kaleidoscope,
pieces cascading, nestling,
settling anew –
beauty at every turn.
So I’m going  to make sure to
notice the light
 shining wherever it does,
allow understanding
to come as it will,
acknowledge the elegance and grace
 that are right before my eyes
each and every day.
I am going to choose to
slow down,
softly, more softly

 occupy my own space
in this harried world.

Sarah Carlson

November 18, 2018

Expanding Faith

Expanding Faith

Softly, more softly she settles,
trusting that whatever she feels
is rightful
 and hers.
One strong, residual strand
of the tether that held her back
weakens all the way,
releases –
the one that made her
feel wrong for needing help.
She finds herself gently reaching,
though she knows not what for,
then realizes it doesn’t matter.
In moments of profound healing
whatever happens simply does –
to her, with her, for her.
There's no need to try so hard,
nothing that needs doing 
other than allow and accept.
Another turning point,
she feels her cells shimmer,
as the once persistent
sense of jeopardy slides away.
She breathes deep a curative breath,
slowly lets it weave around and through
that which has sparked within.
Her vapors
fan those inner embers once again,
but this time
 she doesn’t feel constriction
 or any need to hold back.
Carefree and peaceful
she breathes again,
and again,
and again.
Pristine energy
deeper safety, definitive support
partner this liberation.
Heartened by a continually
 expanding faith
in unconditional Love,
her inner compass orients
 to the fuller and fuller flowing
of the truth of her being,

Sarah Carlson

November 7, 2018

The Worry Owl

'The Worry Owl' by Holly Johnson

The Worry Owl
(for Holly)

A new friendship,
the bond of being
 widowed too young.
Calm, caring, thoughtful conversation
with an openness provided
by that unwelcome,
but very real bond.
Talk of connections in nature –
heart rocks, dragonflies, birds of all kinds.
Of love lost, but not.
The gift of a painting,
clearly done from the heart.
A calm, caring, thoughtful owl
peering out from the trunk of a tree.
The Worry Owl you called it,
with the advice,
“Let the owl do the worrying.”
Thank you, Holly,
for the Worry Owl
that keeps me company
all these years later,
but most especially for the gift
of your calm, caring, thoughtful presence
in the lives of all of us
who had the good fortune
to know you,
your beautiful being.

With love,
Sarah Carlson
November 8, 2018

Greater Than, Less Than, Equal To

Greater Than, Less Than, Equal To

Numbers –
so concrete,
easy to compare.
One definitely worth either
more than, less than,
or the same as another.
It’s clear what their relationship is,
once you know the rules
and how they operate.
And then there’s us,
we humans,
with our varied and complex interweavings.

It is so often said that we are all created equal,
yet there are those who seem to believe
they are greater than,
constantly needing that ‘fact’
to be seen.
Likely they may actually feel less than
somewhere deep within,
and so the need to prove.
By stepping out into the natural world
it’s easy to behold true equity and balance.

Fledgling tree with changing leaves
sways in a cool fall breeze,
waters of a nearby pond
ruffle and reflect,
mountain backdrop stands
full, strong, and steady.
One part of the scene no greater
or less than the other,
each having an equal part in the grandeur.
The human who takes a pause to notice
fills with the clean, clear energy
of that equality.
Once again grateful
for the teachings of nature,
she moves forward
with more clarity on board.

Sarah Carlson

October 27, 2018

Blossoming

Blossoming

Tiny one lays on her back,
wide open to the newness
of the world around her.
All she really needs is sustenance,
tenderness, the security
of a sense of place.
She exudes the joy of living
just by being herself.
But every so often
something is off,
not quite right.
Her beautiful being tenses
as she cries out,
looks toward the one
who might offer solace.
But it’s not there
and so she begins to master
the tucking away of suffering.
Now,
so many years later,
she can still feel
the deep, stale discomfort of
the missing
and the hiding.
But she also again recognizes
opportunity to unlearn and relearn,
orient to a source of love
that is boundless,
trustworthy,
and true.
She closes her eyes,
carefully lays open once again
as, bit by bit,
 that antiquated source of fear and pain
fades into the distance,
softening as it goes.
Her focus shifts to
the grace and haven of
blossoming.

Sarah Carlson

October 23, 2018

Autumn Afternoon

View from Fairbanks Bridge, Farmington, ME

In late September I did a presentation of my poetry at the Rangeley Public Library. This was a special spot for me because Barry and I met in Rangeley in 1975. After my reading I went out to dinner at a restaurant called Forks in the Air (a name Barry would have loved). I was feeling many things - excitement, accomplishment, relief, gratitude, and so on. I decided to have a libation and perused the choices. And... there it was, right there on the menu - Rogue Dead Guy (a malty ale from the Rogue Brewery in Oregon). I thoroughly enjoyed it - the taste, the serendipity, the dry humor that Barry would also have loved. In this case I think of 'rogue' as a person full of mischief, one who breaks away from norms and does things his/her own way. It was perfect. I knew a poem would eventually come. It started on Tuesday after an osteopathic treatment (and after Coming Undone) and came to fullness after I took this picture and played with the abecedarius form.

Autumn Afternoon

(abecedarius)

Autumn afternoon pedaling on my trusty
bike. Blustery winds blow some rain in, but I don’t
care. I’m in the rhythm of riding as varied thoughts
dance through my mind.
Eventually you enter and, as always, I’m grateful that you
find your way in. It has become a 
gentle sense of joining as I work to
harness the shifting energies of healing, the
intricate undertones and sometimes bewildering
juxtaposition of openness and boundaries. The
kinesthetic nature of pedaling
leads to connections of heart and
mind. As my gears hum I
notice my health and feel grateful, not
only for when we were us in the flesh, but also for sensations of your
presence now. I pause on the bridge near our home, smile with knowing that my
quirky
rogue dead guy continues to show up, sometimes murky and other times clear,
sensations of love shared always present. I’ve had some
trying times lately, have had to strive to
understand. It’s been a bit painful, really, but with
visceral relief distinctly present. I have more
work to do, but it’s actually
exhilarating to be here right now, in me. I continue to honor
your love as I let my
zeal out into the light of day and decide what reflections I want to let in.

Sarah Carlson

October 13, 2018

Coming Undone

Coming Undone

It’s coming undone
and I’m so glad.
The tether that kept me bound
to a multi-layered,
completely false sense of responsibility
is frayed and tattered,
only has a few tired strands left.
I’m somewhat in awe
at how well I’ve navigated
all this time with that faulty anchor
impeding my currents.
What a heavy load,
fastened before I knew any better.
At times it is crystal clear
when someone wrongly tries to process
their own stuff through me.
In some ways I seem to be
a bit of a magnet for that.
But, I no longer accept that position
and I’m getting better
 at kindly and gently
fending it off.
It’s the subtle times,
when others almost seem devious
in their attempts to pass the buck,
that still drag me down.
I don’t always catch it
as deep sediments get stirred and
that which reflects back 
seems murky and muddled,
doesn’t match what I know to be true.
Eventually, though, I figure it out,
acknowledge another opportunity to mend.
These last strands,
the inner weave of the tether,
may take more time to let go.
Or, not.
Either way is fine.
I’m just profoundly grateful that it’s
coming undone.

Sarah Carlson

October 9, 2018

Boundless Expanse

Boundless Expanse

It takes some work to uncover your fathoms,
especially if they’ve been ensconced for long.
There may be layers that are confusing
or weigh a great deal.
You may not always recognize the fabric
of the coverings
as opportunities to lift them appear.
But lift them you should.
Carefully, tenderly raise them
when you are ready.
The setting aside is not always predictable.
You might need to spread the material out
so you can take a closer look.
Or maybe you’ll need to gently fold it
as you reminisce,
continue to assimilate.
Some layers should be shared
with a trusted confidante
so you can further process their effects.
And then there are those pieces
you’ll need to fling aside,
perhaps even rip them to shreds,
let them scatter
in the winds of change.
But the insights that come from your efforts
are most definitely miraculous.
Along the way you will gradually
see, hear, feel things more purely
 and enjoy being uniquely you.
The spiky intricacies
of whatever your dark times include
will either disperse or
peacefully coexist with the glory
of the boundless expanse that contains
wonder, truth, communion
and Love.

Sarah Carlson

September 25, 2018

Marvel With Me

Me with my big brother, Geof, at the gray camp - Snow Pond, Maine... circa 1958

Marvel With Me

Dear Geof,
I wish I could talk with you
about so many things
that have been on my mind lately.
You are the only one
who shared tender,
 sometimes tremulous,
childhood years with me.
It’s been so long
since we sat in the garden

as young adults
marveling at our spouses,
our little ones.
That was the last day,

me just turned 30

and you 33.
Hmm, I just realized
that we didn’t actually
talk much right then.
But in those moments
our energies merged
and we were content.
You used to insist that
the things that were broken
were not mine to fix.
I don’t know how you knew that
at such a young age,
but you were right.
It feels so very good to
more and more let go of
that assumed responsibility.
As I do
my whole being loosens
and I can recall
joyful memories like
 having a big brother
marvel with me.

Love, Sarah

September 16, 2018

Allow

Clearwater Lake - photo by Mardy Bogar

Allow

Some clouds are stormy,
some benign,
some hard to read.
And yet the sun has the potential
to illuminate the edges
of them all,
given the right conditions.
Just as our nearest star
facilitates the splendor
of silver linings,
so can we humans permit our
inner brilliance to radiate
 from behind whatever
barricades may be in place.
We all want to,
though the desire may be
somewhat sequestered.
No matter what fronts
have blown through,
our own exquisite uniqueness
is there nestled within,
ours to share when
we feel secure and right.
And that we should -
both feel safe
and allow.
The sun doesn’t hesitate.
Why should we?

Sarah Carlson

September 11, 2018

The Way Ahead

Saddleback Lake from the Grey Ghost Trail - Sandy River Plantation, Maine

The Way Ahead

Our stories intersect.
We criss-cross each other
as we meet, greet, be.
Some stories entwine us
more than others,
like the story of true, deep, shared love.
The soulmate kind.
A sturdy anchor that can
keep a vessel secure
despite varied pulls.
When, for whatever reason,
the physical container of that love leaves,
there’s a scary sensation
of being adrift
and vulnerable.
It’s easy to hold on to
that which actually constricts,
promotes tension within.
Part of healing from the angst
and emptiness
of being on that drifty ship,
involves learning how and when
to let go.
There can be a sense of others
having power over you,
when in truth they don’t.
You might feel beholden,
responsible,
or simply wrong
at times when you are
stretching into your newness.
What a profound, liberating
 moment when
you realize
that you can let go,
even of that.
When you do,
the way ahead becomes
even more hopeful, open,
and true.

Sarah Carlson

August 28, 2018

Sun Shimmers and Rain Plops

Parker Pond, Maine

You'll have to look closely at the picture above. These moments didn't last long.

Sun Shimmers and Rain Plops

Blue-gray sky speckled with fair weather clouds.
Just enough wind to make evergreens waltz,
waves lap against my granite perch,
sunlight glitter upon their varied faces.
I settle in to read for a bit,
about indigenous wisdom and
the illusion of separation.
In need of some time
to ponder the message
I set my book aside and,
from seemingly nowhere,
a gentle, spotty rain begins to fall.
For just a few moments
sun shimmers and rain plops
dance on the water’s surface,
 together as one.
Circles within circles
bobbing, expanding, flowing
on the twinkling, reflective sheen.
Grateful and content,
I smile at nature’s
timely illustration.

Sarah Carlson

August 26, 2018

Ancestral Angst

Popham Beach State Park, Maine

This one is connected to an earlier poem called Ancestral Darkness - page 133 of The Radiance of Change and in the blog archive from October of 2015.

Ancestral Angst

Some of the energy from ancestral angst
somehow settled within.
Part of my lineage
with a distinct rigidity
that I’ve lugged
for a long while.
As I heal the strands often loosen,
discharging tension.
It’s as if there’s a conduit 
to sorrows of the past
to which I am linked,
but with current that is lessening.
Because these bonds are so old
there can be a bit of a skirmish
as they let go,
I let go.
Sometimes I think I should apologize,
which in moments of release
makes no sense at all.
Perhaps I am sorry because I care,
but now know that the issues
of my forebears were theirs,
not mine.
Maybe I’m just sorry because 

distress was such a large
piece of the puzzle
as I remember it,
took it in.
I’m not sorry that I recognized
my need for liberation.
As more and more unloads,
washes away,
I access greater appreciation for
the goodness of the grains
that also form my foundation,
and theirs.
I’m sure they didn’t mean to
cause family fracture.
I’ll never fully understand
all that was broken,
but I do know that
none of it was my fault.
 Though I still meander back,
I am acutely aware that
whatever happened is over.
I can flow forward with relief
at being
less and less connected
to ancestral angst.

Sarah Carlson

August 18, 2018

Two Briny Beings

Popham Beach State Park, Maine

This poem connects to and earlier piece titled Cross-Currents. It can be found on page 155 of The Radiance of Change and in the blog archive of September, 2016.

Two Briny Beings

Standing strong
in soft sand,
my tender feet
sink just a bit.
Ocean waves come from
 multiple directions,
wash around my legs.
I am mesmerized by the moment,
though right then I don’t quite know why.
I just knew I needed to be
right there, right then.
I can still feel the sensations of
sand caressing my feet,
water enveloping my skin.
Two briny beings
in a tidal dance
 of wholeness.
I didn’t have to understand fully
the reasons for my desire to
be in that spot,
just knew to follow the guidance
from whence it came.
No tension, no worry,
no remorse.
That sublime sensation
of letting go,
letting flow
in action once again
around me,
for me,
 within me.

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2018

Cloud Bath

Saddleback Mountain in Rangeley, Maine

Lately I've had poems from the past come to mind as I write new ones. The following poem is closely linked to one titled One Foot in Front of the Other from 2006. It is on page 12 of The Radiance of Change and is also in the blog archive from November of 2010.

Cloud Bath

To the top of a favorite mountain
at the invitation of new friends.
Yet again,
I put one foot in front of the other
and make my way.
More sure footed this time,
with far less tension in my body,
very little ache in my heart.
To the summit we stretch,
and beyond.
On a rocky prominence we perch,
in awe of the lovely view.
In the distance
other mountains visited,
lakes enjoyed,
roads biked.
This busy body content
to simply sit, breathe, be.
Varied clouds
flow with summery breezes,
natural cinema playing
before our eyes.
Some vapors settle
 in the basin behind,
begin to sweep up the back slope.
Hugging the col,
they roll over the ridge,
descend the front slope
before they lift,
rise up as if in jubilation
at their freedom.
We humans immerse
in a cloud bath
with a smooth, gentle power.
Honored to be right there
in those moments,
I welcome the chance
for quiet cleansing and
soothing rejuvenation.

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2018

There Again

There Again

We went there again.
To the old gray camp that is so close, 

yet so far, from home.
I know you were unsure about going.

I don’t blame you.
But you trusted,
allowed in the safety of now.
I felt your tenseness as we entered the kitchen

through the creaky screen door.
But you started to relax
 as we reached the living room,

sensing the difference
in the atmosphere of the place.
You checked every nook and cranny

with your eyes and your heart,
especially the open porch
with lake breezes wafting around and through.
You so badly wanted the changes
to be real, to be true.
As you turned and walked toward the pantry
 you stopped in your tracks,
taking it in anew.
It was altered
in both appearance and energy,

all traces of alcohol gone,

along with associated tension and angst.

Really, truly no longer there.
I felt your tender essence

infuse with hope, faith, delight –
your face aglow, your eyes a-twinkle,
your body at ease.
Yes, we went there again.
To that place of sadness,
misunderstanding,
and generational suffering.
It took some doing,
but we were solid and sure,
happy in our health,
able to fully accept the veracity of what is,
allow the ferocity of musty memories to wane.
Those dark days are done,
no longer need to produce pain.
Later, sitting by the lake,
watching the clouds drift above
and the loons swim by,
residual wariness and worry slid away,
 replaced with love
and gratitude for having gone
there again.

Sarah Carlson

August 8, 2018

Truth

Parker Ridge Trail, Tumbledown Mountain - photo by Katharina Burdet

Truth

Hear me, little one.
Trust me when I say you are safe,
we are safe.
We’ve worked hard
to uncover and explore,
wonder and weep,
receive and recover.
We, together, are me
and it’s time to fully align to the truth.
The continual sense of goodness
that has kept me company,
even in the hardest of times,
is real.
The core of strength
that has fortified my being
all along the way
is sure.
The ability to write,
illuminating healing and hope,
is beautiful and right to share.
The curative experiences
of body, mind, and spirit
can and should
 be welcomed and absorbed.
On solid ground,
beneath a benign sky,
serenaded by flowing waters
I stand full, robust, and ready.
I can take deep restorative breaths,
open wide to the beauty
both before me and within me.
Though there may be occasional stirs
as I assimilate and adjust,
the truth is
I am safe
to freely, fully,
firmly
be me.

Sarah Carlson

August 6, 2018

Sweet, Soft Memories

Sweet, Soft Memories

Up and over Dallas Hill,
along the ridge,
is the little red house we called home
when our first baby was born.
Down the other side,
on the shore of Saddleback Lake,
is where our love first emerged.
I visited this special part
of our world,
 and as I explored
the pain of loss was very gentle.
Instead I was filled
with sweet, soft memories
of tennis matches, moonlight hikes
bike rides to the movies,
horseback adventures -
me on Buck, you on Fire,
as we opened our hearts
to each other.
Before I headed down the road
to return to the home we shared
as our children grew,
I gazed out over the lake.
And again delightful memories
swirled all through.
Paddling, sailing, swimming,
skiing on the frozen surface.
I will always miss your physical presence,
but these memories are
 such a tender balm to my being
as I harbor them
 in my healing heart.
I’m so grateful for
sweet, soft memories
of you and me
together.

Sarah Carlson

July 29, 2018

Liberty

Liberty

Suspended in salty goodness
she lays back and relaxes.
Gazing upward she marvels
at the blueness of the sky,
glowing warmth of the sun,
soft clouds flowing gently by.
She breathes in the fresh, warm air
allowing her lungs to fill as they will.
All is in motion and yet
there is nothing that needs doing,
not right at that moment anyway.
Her mind wanders and she remembers
swimming as a child
when her nickname was ‘Fish’.
She smiles as she thinks back to
that lovely little girl
so comfortable under the water
as she frolicked in the waves.
A quiet frown comes as she feels
residual fear stir,
but then there’s a release
as she realizes they are free from all that.
Just as the tides disperse detritus,
so can all that go.
And just as the richness of the
expansive ocean fills back in,
so can she allow the bounty to come.
Another deep breath
as she feels vitality, peace, and love.
The tides flow, come and go,
in freedom.
More and more she feels safe to enfold
the liberty
of her own tides

within.

Sarah Carlson

July 24, 2018

One Degree

Sunset over Lake Champlain in Isle La Motte, VT.

I recently returned from an Appalachian Mountain Club biking vacation on the northern islands of Lake Champlain. Before I left I had my bicycle checked over at our wonderful local bike shop, Northern Lights Heart and Sports. Just before I put my bike in the car Todd, one of the owners, tweaked the angle of my seat. He smiled and said, "It was just a bit off, maybe 1 degree. But that can make a difference." As I pedaled on the beautiful Lake Champlain Bikeway on the first day I suddenly realized that I felt better on my bike. I hadn't really felt bad before, but that little adjustment did make a difference. I've been pondering that, and other things, over the past week or so. And that led to this poem.

One Degree

I’ve spent some time twisting my lens
over the years,
 have become quite adept at it.
At this point turning it as little as
one degree provides
a gentle sense of clarity and relief
that is both rightful and welcome.
Simple, quiet moments
 when what was just barely out of focus
becomes crystal clear,
melds into healing.
This is like being bathed
in a subtle, calm lightness
that both buoys and cleanses.
Or it can be a spreading sense
of fortitude that has long been there,
but feels more apparent and credible.
I often don’t even know that I’m adjusting,
but recognize the blips of awareness.
Like when the sun is at a perfect angle,
so muted shadows stretch into
a summer twilight sky
as soft clouds billow,
and you happen to gaze upwards
at just the right time.
Sweet sensations of
wonder and awe ascend,
the moment both fleeting
and timeless.
Safety and serenity reside
within and without,
and all is well.

Sarah Carlson

July 23, 2018

Time to Recharge

Time to Recharge

Having discharged both things I can define
and things I cannot,
I feel a distinctly different energy.
Some unwanted thought patterns still nibble,
but I find what I need in order
to lighten these minor wonderings.
It may simply be speaking them aloud
to someone I trust.
Or it might be enough to take a pause,
breathe, alter the flow.
Other times I simply must write,
let metaphoric experiences
come alive on paper before my eyes.
The letting go is both from me
and to me.
As this shift in energy suffuses,
I believe the places that have emptied
will fill with what I need
and a sense of safety will
mingle and merge
as I recharge.
I think I must be patient,
allow this to happen in its own time.
As it does I sometimes feel happiness spread.
Like a moment at a concert,
with music of days gone by emanating throughout,
noticing that my face feels strange
and realizing it is because I
had been smiling for quite some time.
Or looking down in awe at the shadow
of my bike wheel,
seeing all parts working in tandem,
 powered by me.
I know I’ve shown great
strength and courage along the way.
This is about opening wide to Universal Love,
letting the recharge happen as it will.
No threat, no shame, no reason to hide.
Simply time to recharge.

Sarah Carlson

July 10, 2018

Right Here

View from the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health

I spent the fourth of July at Kripalu with friends, after which we went to see James Taylor at Tanglewood. It was a truly magical day. While at Kripalu I had a break between activities so I paused and took some breaths. As I gazed out over the lake and mountains I had some wonderful moments of reflection. There I was, 2 years after having attended a writing program with Heather Sellers. Right there in that very same spot where I had set the goal of sorting through my poetry and publishing. But, there was a very big difference. I had my book in my hands. This poem was largely written in those moments.

Right Here

Back again –
in the same place, yet not.
Previous insecurities release,
enabling the dropping in
to widen, become more full.
My tapestry of
images and words,
reflecting the radiance of
so many changes,
continues.
 Hopes,
once felt to be distant,
gently and continually unfold,
reach fruition.
Impediments still occur,
though they are malleable,
less menacing,
easier to transform to truth.
As I sit and settle,
enfold my vitality,
more and more I appreciate
my singular self.
Having felt unheard,
 unseen, unsure
in my past,
I hold tangible evidence
and begin to rest easy.
All which has come
 from going in
is real, valid and right.
I hear, I see,
and I am becoming
more sure.
Those who feel inclined will
listen, notice, acknowledge
and I shall do the same.
I am right here,
gratefully and gracefully
being me.

Sarah Carlson

July 4, 2018

Waves of Fear

Waves of Fear

I don’t really identify with being a fearful person,
and yet I’m feeling waves of fear.
There’s a craving within
to realize that I’m safe.
I’m so very ready for these
waves to fully wash away.
I’m sitting here in my sweet little home,
cradled in memories
of sharing love and life with my soulmate,
 holding and raising our sweet babies,
 finding my way to becoming a teacher.
I can recognize that the body-wracking cries of yesterday
 have mostly subsided,
but still feel unheralded emotions stirring
 as muscles softly twitch, milder tears trickle,
breath seems shallow.
Like the rain cascading outside these windows,
the gentle breeze that blows,
I guess it just needs to happen.
I don’t have to run and hide,
or feel threatened.
I still feel the wish to be held or
at least to hear someone say the words,
“You’re okay, Sarah.
It’s right to let the those waves of fear
roll out and away.
It’s true, you’re safe.”
I’m hopeful this desire
will fade away over time,
or that I will be able to
comfort that tender spot within
for my self.
I don’t think I care anymore
to know exactly
where they originate,
 I’m just trying to believe
 that waves of fear
 simply do not have a place
 in my life anymore.

Sarah Carlson

June 28, 2018

Darkening Before the Light

Darkening Before the Light

The whole story
needs to be told.
Before the lightening,
perhaps simultaneous to it being born,
there was/is a sort of darkening.
Tears seep and surge,
seeming to surface
 from every part of the body.
Reminiscent of a full on baby cry
when the only remedy is to be
cuddled, comforted,
with tears accepted, not judged.
Experienced as an adult,
 this is accompanied
by multi-faceted grief.
Safe and right to feel,
the eventual effects
are the soothing of a tender heart,
the settling of a puzzled mind,
the mending of a wounded spirit.
A darkening before the light
that has the power to
heal the deep, dark places
that simply must be honored.
It’s the truth, the full narrative,
 that leads to
a shift from threat to trust,
providing the opportunity
to genuinely lighten up.

Sarah Carlson

June 27, 2018

Lighten Up

Lighten Up

Eyes, heart,
mind, cells
open wider and wider.
Flexible, changing
frontier becomes
 more and more 
true and trustworthy.
Sinking and settling
into a precious body,
beautiful just as it is
in the here and now.
Antiquated perceptions
that one must strive to receive love,
must somehow earn the right to heal
release, steadily melt away.
Moments of, “OH!”, blips of freedom
expand and saturate.
Sensations of revival
that feel right and good,
but will take time
 to more fully incorporate.
Intrepid, courageous exploration
has paved the way
to understand that the pressure to ‘earn’
came from a deep and barricaded place.
But the freedom, the lightening,
comes from an even deeper,
more expansive
place of knowing –
where the light shines through,
always has.
It most definitely is time to
allow the canards to crumble,
honor the hues of healing,
and lovingly
lighten up.

Sarah Carlson

June 26, 2018

Lonely, Yet Not

Lonely, Yet Not

I am supposed to feel loneliness right now.
I know this because within this feeling
I am more profoundly discovering me,
my veritable, essential self.
The one who has been there all along,
but had to struggle to exist within
confusing, imposed falseness.
She is lovely and strong,
caring and humble,
creative and intelligent,
graceful and giving.
I love her
and know she is
not really alone.
Tears are flowing from
deep in my soul.
I don’t necessarily have words
to accompany them,
but they do need to flow.
So I let them
and, in tandem,
feel the elation
of settling into the exquisite
recesses of my being.
I am solo right now
with summer here and
no students who need me,
offspring grown
with lives of their own,
soulmate’s physical presence gone.
It’s okay,
I need this.
I’ve worked hard
to land here
in this very spot.
It’s a bit stormy
but I’ve got it.
I’m lonely,
yet not.

Sarah Carlson

June 24, 2018

Full Light

Flowers given to me by one of my fourth graders

Full Light

Sunbeams reach and stretch,

 envelop all beings below,
warm and enlighten
those who choose to notice

and let it all in,
let it all out.
Darker days, mere memories
of the cold winter season,
have beauty and substance
all their own.
Day by day the light has grown
to reach the vibrancy
of the Solstice.
Fullness without,
fullness within.
Full Light.

Sarah Carlson

June 21, 2018

No Longer a Threat

This African violet has been through a lot. Barry gave it to me on February 14, 2002 - our last Valentine's Day. We didn't really have any sort of regular way to celebrate that particular holiday, but for some reason that year he decided to give me this gift.
It has weathered a house renovation during which it was shoved in a corner of an upstairs bedroom that wasn't particularly warm, and being watered very sporadically during that time. It has been tipped over on a few occasions - once after I had it re-potted at the store where he bought it because I thought it was dying, and once when I took it to someone's house to be part of an extremely healing experience - again on the way home. And yet it thrives.

No Longer a Threat

A hole in the screen,
a break in the skin,
a door left open.
A worry that something will
infiltrate, infect, fester.
A constant sense of jeopardy
rooted in origins
both understood and not.
This powerful effect of the wound
is losing its potency
as boundaries are determined
and continue to fortify
in such a way as to allow
benevolent permeability.
All the while the true taproot
grows stronger
with life-giving liquids circulating
 more and more freely.
Mind settling,
heart nurturing,
 soul fostering –
dynamic and sure
they surge and swirl,
providing a fullness
that is at the same time
 fresh and familiar.
Truth spirals,
grace expands,
love swells,
and there simply is
no longer a threat.

Sarah Carlson

June 19, 2018

Mourning Dew

Mourning Dew

Expanding essence,
settling spirit,
vibrating vitality –
a trilogy of wellness.
Even with these truths aboard,
sadness sometimes
seeps to the surface,
quietly gathers
for acknowledgment.
For it is also true,
 real, and right.
Like morning dew on
leaves and grasses,
stale sorrows bead and adhere
until a being notices,
allows them to vaporize
or entwine with
 restoration and revival.
Mourning dew,
warmed by
mourning light.
A gentle,
beneficial aspect
of the continued
honoring of the
veracity of grief.

Sarah Carlson

June 8, 2018

Unique and Yet the Same

Photo by Rami Haddad - Sunset Peak on Lantau Island, Hong Kong

Unique and Yet the Same

Perched upon rocks left askew by
earthly forces of bygone days –
solitary and together, both.
Awestruck, they widen their gazes,
enabling splendor and accomplishment
to saturate.
Breathing in, they watch the ocean
loosen its grip as
the once pervasive fog rises,
revealing treasured islands below.
They pause in wonder,
allowing gratitude to
permeate their beings
before they put feet to ground
and move on.
They follow the meandering trail
to the village far below,
ready for a time of
rest and rejuvenation
as new adventures await.
Sinewy singing muscles,
tranquil trusting minds,
beautiful beating hearts.
Unique and yet the same.

Sarah Carlson

June 5, 2018

Nothing to Do

Photo by Liz Koucky

Nothing to Do

Sometimes there’s nothing one can do.
I’m going to have to let that notion
sink all the way in.
For so long I took on far more than I should.
It wasn’t necessarily wrong at the time and
I learned a great deal in the trying.
There are things I know about me,
about life and healing,
that I may not have internalized
 any other way.
These recognitions are part of
a pivotal juncture in my life.
They came to me as I settled onto my island
and some winds began to bellow,
congesting the scene,
making my airways tighten.
They weren’t deeply threatening,
just stirred things up and pestered.
I tuned in for a bit and then realized I could
 take shelter with my boundaries strong,
allow for internal reorganization,
turn both away and to.
As I quieted I thought back
to the last night, 16 years ago,
when Barry and I were still us in the flesh.
We walked arm in arm around our neighborhood,
out for an evening stroll in the sweet spring air,
teenage children at home.
The next morning three of us raced off to school
and he, on vacation, met some friends
for a game of tennis.
And, then it happened.
He died.
With this habit of feeling
that there must be something I can do,
could have done,
I deeply internalized fault.
Did he try to tell me something on our walk?
How could I not have known?
What did I miss?
But he didn’t,
I couldn’t,
and I didn’t miss a thing.
There was nothing to do,
but be in the moments as we were,
cherish each other as we did,
and be in love.
Another radiant change –
acknowledging that
I didn’t make a mistake
because there really was
nothing to do.
Sometimes there just isn’t.

Sarah Carlson

May 29, 2018

Trek Across Maine

Trek Across Maine announced a major route change, starting with next year's Trek. This has brought up varied thoughts and emotions for me, and I'm guessing for many others. This isn't a complaint, just a statement of what is.
For me participating in the Trek for the past 12 years has been important in varied ways. One of those is that it has provided ample opportunities for me to connect with my brother, Geof, who was killed while biking on Martha's Vineyard in 1987 at the age of 33. Geof was also one of the very first Trekkers, riding in both 1985 and 86. I drove him to Bethel in 1985, silently wondering what in the world he was doing - especially since it was pouring rain. I will never forget seeing him off with the few hardy souls who rode that year and then passing him as I returned to Farmington with my two small children in the car. There was my big brother, lead rider of the first leg of the first Trek (they didn't have much in the way of route markers in those days), happily pedaling in the torrential rain, his extra layer of a garbage bag flapping in the wind, gigantic grin on his face as he gave all of us a big wave.
Twenty four years later, as I was making my way from Bethel to Rumford in my third Trek, I understood. The weather was remarkably similar in 2009, though there were almost 2,000 riders that year. As I watched the water shoot away from my tires, saw my reflection in the saturated road, took a moment to scrape the dirt from my glasses, I laughed out loud. I totally got why my brother was so happy that day. I was having a blast. There was no place else I wanted to be.
There have been other years in other parts of the Trek that I've felt him, as well. Often as we drop down towards Waterville, our home town, and make our way to Colby where we both spent many hours playing tennis, swimming, going to events. Sometimes going out of Waterville in the early morning as we pass by our old neighborhood and our high school.
I will miss all of that, along with hosting my team at my home in Farmington, and the wonderful experience of spanning our state - truly from the mountains to the sea. It just won't be the same. Change can be good, I know - radiant even... after all I did write a book with that title. But, I just don't know about this one.
As I pondered all this over the past days, I remembered the poem I wrote after participating in my first Trek. And I realized I had never posted it to my blog. So here it is:

Trek Across Maine
(Through the Eyes, Ears, and Heart of a Neophyte)

Heart pumping, stomach churning,
gasping for breath –
and I hadn’t even started yet.
Soaking in the moment,
knowing I was embarking on the ride
with the quiet support of our son,
the companionship of our daughter,
 the memories of my husband
and my big brother in my heart.
Off we went,
my AWESOME friends and I.
Off to join the river of bikers
ebbing, flowing, coursing
from the mountains to the sea.
An incredible journey unfolded
as we melded into the current.
Powered by our unique human spirits
and the stretching of personal limits.
Giving and receiving support
to and from people we knew
and others we had yet to meet.
Pedaling past a multitude of scenes
that represent Maine at its finest –
rolling fields, green hills,
distant mountains,
sparkling rivers and streams
weaving their way around
the solidity of the rocky earth.
Serenaded by chirping birds, croaking frogs,
and the cheers of smiling
green shirted volunteers.
Blue skies overhead,
 interrupted only occasionally
by friendly clouds wafting by.
Up and down hills,
feeling the contentment of reaching a peak
and the exhilaration of cruising
down the other side.
Early mornings, flat tires, broken spokes,
aching muscles, more miles
than we had ever ridden.
We did it all.
And I finished hand in hand
with our daughter, his niece.
A sense of accomplishment
unmatched by anything
I had ever done before.
Personal,
 multi-faceted victories
for us all.
A memorable Trek that I hope
is the first of many more to come.

Sarah Carlson

June 19, 2007