One Love

One Love

Imposed angst had a hold
on your good and caring heart.
Little by little you’ve
found the time and space
to loosen, reclaim, transmute.
You were used to walking hand in hand.
His grip and yours were
gracefully entwined
and you felt safe, held, happy.
You’ve been reaching,
gingerly trying to take hold,
at the same time
striving to let go
with gentleness and compassion.
You know now that I’m here,
just as you need me to be.
Feel free to take my hand
when you long for support.
My light is yours,
your light mine.

Call me whatever you want.
Let go of descriptors
and just feel the love.
It’s there, even when it’s
a challenge to discern.
My love, his love, her love,
their love, and yours.
It’s all the same.
 Embrace the essence.
    Hold it,
                 believe it,
                           cherish it,
                                           walk with it.
It’s real and true.
One Love.

Sarah Carlson

December 17, 2019

Note to Self

Note to Self

Whenever you feel
 that frosty tightness,
just breathe –
 through it, with it,
around it, within it.
Warm your wonderful waters
 simply by beholding
the beauty of now,
allowing archaic agonies
to soften and drizzle away.
Recognize that
your foundation is strong,
your flow genuine.
Though some shadows remain,
trust that you will attend to them
if need be.
Celebrate the gentle peace
that cascades 

through and all around you.
Relax into your
uniquely radiant truth.
Live –
be fully alive,
 enjoy the joyous rhythms
of omnipresent love.

Sarah Carlson

December 9, 2019

How Big is Your Love?

How Big is Your Love?

So much hate all around us.

We experience it

off and on in our own ways,

our own time.
What is hate?

 Its synonyms are a yucky bunch:

loathing, detestation, abhorrence,

aversion, animosity, revulsion,

disgust, contempt, abomination.

Such power they have

 if allowed, witnessed, received.

Yet, even more powerful is the antonym.

That being, love.

Though hate and all its mates 

do exist,

love can be, should be 

stronger.

How big is my love?

Big enough to counteract the hate

that I now understand 

was never about me

or because of me.

I know I live from

a place of love,
always have.

I interact, teach, speak, write

from my heart. 

The more I recognize that truth,

the more I understand

 how monumental love actually is.
As expansive as the sky overhead,

fair weather clouds 

gently flowing by.

As immense as a sandy beach 

at low tide,

bits of mica sparkling together as one

in the light of a late fall sun.

As vast as the rolling ocean

stretching to places unseen,

reflecting that light from above,

its rhythms a comfort to behold.

As magnanimous as a 

generous soul who,

by nature, 

loves with a whole heart. 

It surely is worth contemplating:

How big is your love?

Can you use it to help counteract 

hate and all its mates?

Sarah Carlson

December 1, 2019

In Tandem

In Tandem

Chest tightens, breath restricts,
unease begins to find a grip.
Wonder surfaces,
“What is that?
Why does it visit?
Should I pay attention, or not?”
And then I choose 

the miracle of breath.
That’s it.
I just breathe.
As I do, awareness washes in –
this tightness has a narrative
with a very complex plot.
Over time,
these moments of pause
continue to unravel storylines
that make up this life
I have lived so far.
Some I remember vividly,
others remain in a haze.
Some are valid and true,
others imposed and faulty.
What becomes more and more clear
is that the constriction,
though real in the moment,
does not have to honor
stagnant tales of old.
Those struggles are done
if I let them be.
I have the power to
let my story adapt
as I anchor to those
profound undulations
that present themselves 

along the way.
Just as love entered my life

exactly when I needed it,
so can I embrace,
even ask for,
Divine love.
I can let the obsolete subplot
of fear and doubt flow away
as many times as necessary.
At the very same time,
I can keep my memories of shared love,

that wonderful sense of being 

in tandem,

alive and well within.

Sarah Carlson

November 19, 2019

The Nuances of Change

The Nuances of Change

So many transformations in our lives.
Some colossal and life-changing,
others more delicate and quietly altering.
And, of course,

everything in between.
Recently I’ve been noticing
soft, muted adjustments
in my body, mind, and spirit.
Awareness of these
 involves allowing the power of quiet,
floating in the currents of now.
Sometimes this can be a bit disorienting,
though not uncomfortably so.
Patterns of thought,
once valuable and important,
are gently replaced
with novel undulations
of truth.

Singular grains of sand at low tide
nestle together in a splendid,

though temporary,

display.
Each occupies its rightful place
in shared moments of grandeur.
That’s the story right there,
 right then,
 free for beholding.
Just as majestic
 is the potential shifting
 of the story –
with the winds, the tides,
the drifting of days.
The nuances of change
have a sweet, subtle
radiance of their own. 
Recognizing this provides
for ongoing opportunities
 to reap the benefits
of the rippling out,
as well as
the rippling in.

Sarah Carlson

November 11, 2019

Your Glorious Ripples

I share this with gratitude for these waters, this place - Clearwater Lake, Maine

 Glorious Ripples

There is such a multidimensional losing
 to loss.
One wonders,
“Where did he go? Where am I?
 Who am I? Am I okay? How do I go on?”
Slowly, over time, this losing
can actually turn to finding.

In acknowledging the impact of loss,
it truly is possible to uncover
an eventual sense of gain.
Initially an oppressive weight
 that feels immovable and impenetrable,
grief can be an opportunity to
discover one’s veritable self
and the value of what ripples
out from within.
As one examines disheveled bits and pieces
of what was once a coherent whole,
there emerges the ability to enable them
to rearrange and reintegrate
 in their own way, their own time.
 Arriving at this place 

of letting go, letting be,
letting in, letting out
takes time.

And, that's okay.
Instead of heeding the inclinations
to hide or fend off,
there’s a sweet liberty
and tangible joy of allowing
one’s tenderheartedness to circulate.
Lose, find, heal, be
and you may just make your way to
relishing the reverberations of
your glorious ripples
 as they expand
into your surrounds.

Sarah Carlson

November 2, 2019

Aglow

Aglow

‘Not my fear, not my fear, …’
gently flows through
 my peaceful musings,
accompanied once again
by a sense of visceral release.
This detached dread
 very clearly is not mine.
I know that for sure.
No doubt at all, whatsoever.
As it washes away
inner freedom again expands,
that wide open sense of me
as I truly am.
Then… excitement… followed by,
or maybe mingled with,
the ‘not my fear’ undercurrent.
The beauty of it all is that
I know just what to do.
That being, nothing.
Nothing other than breathe and be,
allow my pure and loving essence
to integrate in my now
 with Divine comfort distinctly present.
I’m tired,
through and through.
But, I don’t care because

partnered with this

fatigue is
a powerful mix of
resilience, hope,
the  joy of being me.
These reflections make me feel
aglow
as the coziness of
the sparkling energy
of health
kindles ever more deeply.

Sarah Carlson

October 17, 2019

Divine Comfort

Divine Comfort

A deep sense of being unseen, 

unheard, unsure within
fabricated by
a slow, shady smothering
had long been her covert companion.
Uncharted exploration
uncovers the warp and weft of

 of love and truth,
enables distinction to spread.
Vulnerability remains present
as she continues her travels.

Sliding through silky waters,
liquid caresses each pore,
wraps her in the softness
 of contentment.
Solid shores surround,
pure fluid supports,
genial clouds hover.
Suddenly rain begins to fall
on the tranquil surface
as dancing ripples widen,
inverted droplets cavort
in a show of celestial grandeur.
She beams and giggles
as the majesty of the
unexpected moment permeates.
Rain subsides, sun peeks,
swimmer settles.
In the stillness

she recognizes the remedy
for that which was inflicted
and took hold before
she knew any better.
She lays back,

finds the courage to more deeply
dispel antiquated guidance,
feel the freedom of her flow,

allow Divine comfort

to enfold and enliven as it
 gently weaves its way into her fabric.

Sarah Carlson

October 7, 2019

Emergence of Hope

I wrote this poem as part of my own processing of feelings and sensations that have come as a result of the explosion in my community last Monday, September 16th. I share this poem with my sincere empathy and compassion for those directly affected by the blast.
I have experienced sudden loss that had direct impact twice in my life - once just days before my 30th birthday when my only brother was killed in a biking accident, and the second at the age of 45 when my husband died while playing tennis with friends. Over time a unique voice emerged that has become my way of telling the more emotional side of a story so my logical side can make some sense of challenging life experiences. I often look back on my writing and feel my heart warm with the recognition that, even when I wasn't fully aware it was there, hope has been a constant.
I took this picture on the way back into Farmington last evening. I had spent the day participating in an organized bike ride and visiting family. It felt healthy to be out and about, but good to be coming home, too. The following poem began forming as I drove and was coming through pretty strongly as I approached town. This scene greeted me as I drove toward Farmington Falls.
I share this with wishes that it may help readers access hope in their own way, in their own time.

Emergence of Hope

Concussive blows,
some quiet and others undeniably loud,
are something we humans experience
in varied ways and, usually,
at unexpected times.
In my small town of Farmington, Maine
we had one of catastrophic size and scope.
In an instant life was lost,
severe injuries happened,
homes destroyed.
The whole town literally shook to its core.
Many students came to school
having heard the blast followed by
 ‘white stuff raining down’ on them at their bus stops.
We teachers were told of an explosion
and the canceling of a yearly field trip
to Agriculture Education Day at our local fair.
With wonders of the cause in the backs of our minds,
 students entering the building
 full of questions for which, at that point,
we had no answers,
we did what teachers do.
Moving into a day of sporadic
information that slowly
painted a profoundly tragic picture,
we gently spent time with the
diverse young beings in our care,
all the while dealing with
varied connections and feelings of our own.
And then a few days later
we wore red in support
 of all who were deeply and directly
 affected by the blast.
Outside on our playground we gathered,
over 300 strong,
a sea of red community spirit.
I happened to be standing near a student
who turned to offer heartfelt support to another.
It took a moment for understanding to come,
as a genuine smile gradually spread
across the receiver’s face.
A beautiful reminder
 of the compassion and resilience
 of our youth,
of us all,
and the undeniable emergence of hope
that can be a such a powerful partner
 to tragedy.

Sarah Carlson

September 22, 2019

Gather

Gather

I carried it for so long,
though I don’t really have words
that properly convey.
I know it to be gloomy, tangly, once mighty.
  I long thought it was stronger than me.
But the antithesis is true.
I am stronger, have always been.
I had to acknowledge it,
explore it for a time,
learn from it
so I could welcome faith
in the currents of now.
Along the way I kept thinking
I had it figured out,
 could set it down and move on.
I’d relax in the flow
and then it would slither in
 from an unnoticed direction,
implore me to pay attention
just when I felt full and free.
So recently, from a place of safety,
I reluctantly listened yet again.
I felt confined by it and distinct from it.
I felt exasperation toward it
and compassion for me.
I felt stale constriction
and hinting liberation.
Though I tried to waylay them,
tears demanded my attention.
Now as underlying,
unneeded intensity lessens,
I can absorb that I am truly okay,
 have the ability to let the muck filter away.
I belong, I am safe, I can trust.
I can believe in mutuality
with the Divine without fear.
Whatever fear attached to that
 simply is not mine,
has no meaning for me.
With fondness for self,
gratitude for growth,
recognition of radiance,
 I softly, tenderly reorient and release.
There may be bits that straggle, or not.
It doesn’t really matter because
they will fall away
 at the opportune time.
I am free to lovingly lighten up,
 gather what this meander reveals.

Sarah Carlson

September 15-22, 2019

In the Currents of Now

This piece has been a long time coming and was challenging to write. It's also one that I was initially reluctant to share, while at the same time it feels right to do so. I decided to not try to figure out the why of that, so here it is.

In the Currents of Now

By the shore of her serene lake
she dips her toes in the water.
With a gentle sigh
she decides to slide all the way in.
Relaxing in the beauty of
her inner landscape,
her vibrant smile reflects
how nice it truly is within.
At the very same time
 deep, stale sorrows swirl
with an energy mostly of release, 

not threat,
though sometimes it is still
hard for her to tell the difference.
She learns to find solace
in not always understanding
 the source or the meaning
of that which goes.
More and more at ease
 with whatever is there,
she lets go the urge to
remember, relive, rerun
distressing scenes of the past.
She encourages her own self
to trust her healing
without trying so hard,
caring too much.
Deep weariness washes away,
replaced by even deeper comfort.
Turning her gaze to the sky above
she feels those stories of so very long ago,
the ones that had her believing
inherent wrongness,
lose their veracity and ferocity.
Her body slackens as a refreshing faith
that feels both foreign and familiar
saturates and revives.
Softly, slowly it dawns on her
that maybe,
just maybe
she can consider herself
a conduit
 to and from the Divine.
The mutuality, relationship
she has been craving
is right there, right here.

Hopeful, she lays back
and floats more fully
in the currents of now.

Sarah Carlson

September 12, 2019

Nice in Here

Nice in Here

I feel as if I’m moving
all the way in.
Like some places were off limits before,
or maybe were taken up by things
recently vacated.
Either way, I love the sensation
of filling in my own far reaches.
When it happens I access more keenly
that boundless expanse
I once thought did not include me.
 I have a limitless, unencumbered
sense of being,
a nowness that seamlessly blends
 wild child wonder
with poetic wisdom.
These words don’t really do justice
to what these feelings are like.
In fact,
as I watch my pencil
slide across the page of my journal,
hand illuminated by the evening sun,
it’s almost as if I don’t know
who is doing the writing,
though the described sensations
are strong and true.
Not a dissociation at all,
but more like a re-association
as my tender tones
settle into a sweet and steady harmony.
Simply a delightful newness of
my experience of me.
I like it
and I’m finding
that it’s really quite
nice in here.

Sarah Carlson

August 27, 2019

Right There, Right Then

White Point Beach, Nova Scotia

Right There, Right Then

Low fog lessens over the horizon
as waves swell, crest, roll–
again and again and again.
A mesmerizing cadence
that gently transfixes
those who sit and settle
on the rocky beach.
Seaweed sways back and forth,
accompanied by the sumptuous sound
of salty liquid lapping onto land.
Feet sink into soft sand
as body eases,
mind lulls,
spirit widens.
Breath moves with shared energy
as ocean rhythms meld
with inner tempos.
Nothing to do
but be

 right there,
right then.

Sarah Carlson

August 19, 2019

Incoming Tides

Hopewell Rocks - New Brunswick, Canada

Incoming Tides

Strong and solid she stands,
despite diverse forces that
once threatened her core.
A near constant barrage of things that,
looking back,
she understands were not of her
or about her.
However, they did
create discord where
harmony should have been.
More and more she internalizes
that those days are over,
need not injure her any further.
She can almost see herself
as a miracle of survival
when her rhythms hum
with lively abandon –
like waves rolling
onto a sandy beach,
water dispersing to wherever
it needs to go.
It is her health,
the beam of her inner truth,
that leads the way,
has all along.
More and more she feels its warmth
can bask in its vitality,
comprehends its boundless nature.
She experiences the effect

 of her genuine presence,

both within herself and on others,
relaxes ever more deeply
into her being
as sediments stir and settle
with incoming tides
of assurance, peace, awareness,
and Love.

Sarah Carlson

August 12, 2019

In the Stillness

Oak Island, Nova Scotia

 

 

In the Stillness

Ever so slowly sunlight widens
as night gives way to morning.
Though birds do chitter
and soft breezes stir,
there’s a serene quiet 
to those moments of transition
as human rhythms thrum.
Keen mind settles,
 gentle heart pulsates,
breath comes easily.
As she wakens and reflects,
she notices
a deeper sense of immersion.
In the activity of
sharing stories
with new people,
pedaling long distances
on unfamiliar roads,
letting go of a
need to hold back
 or keep up,
a novel aspect of calm presents.
In the stillness
there exists an ever more
vivid, dynamic, limitless
sense of being.

Sarah Carlson

August 11, 2019

A Sense of Place

Our wonderful kayak guide during our snack stop in Blue Rocks, Nova Scotia

I recently had the good fortune of being invited to join a group for a Pedal and Sea Adventures bike and kayak vacation. It was an amazing week of pedaling along the southern shores of Nova Scotia. In the middle of the week we went on a four hour guided kayak expedition by Pleasant Paddling. This poem came both from that experience and that of having two bike guides who had given us a sense of place in the prior days, sharing with us so much about this part of Nova Scotia, which is their home. I'm so grateful to have had these experiences and to return to my own special place in the world, my home, as well.

A Sense of Place

The group follows their gentle guide
along a shoreline formed by
foliated slabs of blue-gray slate.
Every so often they pause to listen
to his tales of flora, fauna,
history of the area.
Fish shacks, golden seaweed,
varied birds, curious seals
all a part of the experience.
The manner in which
 he delivers his message
gives the listener a deep
sense of place
as his pride and youthful wisdom
weave their way
 into and through his words.
Onward they paddle,
each settling more and more
into a sense of place
of their own
as they ponder
 the wonder within,
the splendor that surrounds,
the beauty that is
 Blue Rocks, Nova Scotia.

Sarah Carlson

August 11, 2019

Happy to Be

I was feeling quite a sense of freedom, particularly on my right side, as I rode my bike into town yesterday for an early morning jaunt. I stopped to let a truck pass and, when I went to push off and turn left, I felt a slackness of my chain and knew I couldn't clip out. Over I went, hard onto my left side. A very nice woman and her daughter stopped to see if I was okay. I insisted that I was, though touched by their kindness and concern. Stubbornly I proceeded with my ride, checking in with myself every so often to see if it was true, that I was okay. I definitely am, but I have to admit that I am feeling the tumble a bit more today.
Apparently there's a poem in just about any life experience. From this one here is what came:

Happy to Be

On the one hand
pain, embarrassment, unease.
On the other
vigor, peace, liberty.

 The first will happen
from time to time,
but need not be the norm.
The second can and should be
accessed, allowed, honored,

will aid in the continued lessening
of once powerful, troubling currents.
The being in the middle of it all
more and more trusts
the efficacy and validity
of her travels.
When she tumbles,
she gets back up,
checks in,
asks for help when needed.
She relishes the times when she can
sink further into her being,
relax by a shore,
enjoy the calm energy
of mountains, waters, sky.
In those moments she feels
settled and sure,
radiant and right,
full and free.

She is
happy to be

in the daunting, 

daring,

definite,

delicate,

divine

 moments of her life.

Sarah Carlson

July 29, 2019

The Gifts That Nestle Within

Somehow a combination of ski experiences surfaced as a metaphor for processing some summertime shifts.

The Gifts That Nestle Within

Sturdy, athletic, vibrant –
she lays her skis on edge,
carves graceful arcs

in the freshly groomed snow.
She loves this trail for its openness,

precise fall lines,
the possibility that someone

might notice her skill and talent.
At the very same time
there trickles within her body
wariness, worry, foreboding.
Does she still need to fend off, protect

 or is it safe to fully let go, let flow?
The unease is slight,
 feels musty,
but is clearly present.
She stops and gazes over
the valley of her youth.
Breathing in the cool, crisp mountain air
she honors what was,
 feels the tenseness
of those deep, dank places
 soften yet again,
smiles with appreciation of the shift.
Body, mind, spirit slowly and gently
continue to settle into
a less impeded flow,

a crystallizing recognition
 of the gifts that nestle within

and the gentleness with which
she allows them out into
the light of day.
Spirit free, heart full, mind settled,
she gives a slight push, 

glides down the slope,

delights in the rhythms

of her singular mountain dance.

Sarah Carlson

July 26, 2019

Believe

I'm in the process of putting together a second book. With that comes an interesting mix of confidence and doubt. As my wonderful book designer calls it - I'm in the 'swirly' stage. Yesterday while biking I saw this lovely little pond in a pasture. I knew I needed a picture, as often happens. Later, as I sat for a time of mindfulness, this moment surfaced. At the same time I realized that I had a poem finding its way through. 

An important reminder for all of us, I believe...

Believe

Inner wisdom softly speaks
with a reminder to trust
those spaces and places
where knowing resides.
Even when things feel stuck
and pain is strong.
Even when you swirl
with things untamed, unnamed.
Even when those spiky spots
need a voice.
Continue to pause, breathe,
acknowledge.
Keep honoring the seeds
that have been sown
on your journey towards
unconditional Love
experienced unconditionally.
Let them sprout, grow, blossom
in their own way,
in their own time
as they have and will.
You know
when to wander and wonder,
soothe and saturate,
accept and allow.
You aren’t unseen
if you see your own
wonderful and unique self.
Believe all the way
in that Love,
in this you.
Just do it…
believe.

Sarah Carlson

July 17, 2019

See Me?

See Me?

Adorable toddler lurches across the grass asking,
“See me? See me, Mommy?”
His mother smiles, knowing
that her child wants to be in her arms.
And she wants that child in hers
just as much.
She picks him up and his body
seems to melt into hers
as mother love, child love
converge into
tender moments of togetherness.
She sees him in a most deep
and loving way,
knows he sees her
seeing him.
Time passes,
challenges come,
heartache happens.
Mother love stays strong,
though not as easily merged.
She sees him still, the two of them,
now adults, both.
The sense of being unseen, though,

stirs around within
and she realizes it stems
from bygone years and
her own grief.
Now inner wisdom

 helps her understand that
though she might feel, or actually be,
unseen in some situations
it does not mean she is not there.
What’s important is that she see
and experience her
very own self
right here, right now.
See me?
Yes, I most definitely do,
my love.
I see you.
Do you see me seeing you?

Sarah Carlson

July 10, 2019

Messages of a Different Silence

Massachusetts Veterans Memorial Cemetery in Agawam, MA

Messages of a Different Silence

It’s been so long since we’ve talked.
You visit in my dreams,
in natural connections,
in the energy of love continued.
But, you are always quiet.
It’s up to me
to notice, define, embrace.
Your brother had a wish
that you and he and your dad
be honored and rest together.
I had given him some of your ashes,
though the rest remain with me.
So, for the first time since you died,
I see a singular gravestone
with your name on it.
It’s in a place that is unfamiliar to me,
but there it is, you are.
At first it is surreal,
especially coming on the heels
of processing multifaceted grief
at a retreat in silence.
As I stand there with your sister
and let the sensations sink in,
 I feel the love of a father
and twin brothers
who served our country,

graced our family
in diverse ways
for so many years.
I am awash in
 gratitude, pride,
relationship,
and healthy sorrow.
Messages of a
very different,
though just as powerful,
 silence.

Sarah Carlson

July 10, 2019

Messages of Silence

Hudson River Valley from West Point

I recently returned from the Mindful Schools Mindful Teacher Certification Program opening retreat at the Garrison Institute in the Hudson Valley. Though we were on the bank of the river, I didn't get a full sense of the beauty of the valley until we crossed the Bear Mountain Bridge and visited West Point on the way home. But, I know I had the sense of it, felt the energy of it all week.
This poem is an attempt to capture the amazing and challenging experience of participating in 2 1/2 days of silence at the beginning of the retreat.

Messages of Silence

On the edge of the Hudson –
emergence of connection,
then silence.
Sit, walk, feel, eat, sleep… repeat.
Individual tears of heartache, sorrow,
joy, revelation.
Together, yet separate,
each person’s inner adventure unique.
This human, this poet
experiences deep grief
from sources known, sources not.
In honoring that, sitting with it,
there emerges a more clear
sense of strength, sureness, wisdom,
accomplishment, health.
Beyond words and sounds
 one accesses the essence
of insight, belonging,
peace, love.
A sensation that,
though boundless,
 eventually feels safe and secure
 in a most fluid way.
Currents ebb and flow
in whatever direction is necessary
for that person at that time.
Inner radiance pulsates
with the veracity of awareness
as the promise of
an undefined, yet palpable
 community begins to form.
The banks determine
 the course of a river,
but waters within
find their own way,
in their own time,
mingling with that
which is true and right.
Such are the messages of silence.

Sarah Carlson

July 8, 2019

When We Were Four

When We Were Four

Our family –
mother, father, son, daughter.
For more than 17 years
we were four.
So much love -
betwixt and between,
through the joys and challenges
of growing up,
living life.
But one spring day,
in an instant,
we became three.
Everything we knew felt askew,
 yet onward we went
each rearranging our pieces
in our own ways,
in our own time.
Emotions surface and show,
or get bundled up and put away
for another time.
Neither right, nor wrong
we’ve done the best we can
along the way
as we readjust and reorient,
uncover the radiance in change.
Though we did
suddenly become three
on that day so long ago,
there's a curative, bountiful power

in remembering the love
that we shared
when we were four.

Sarah Carlson

June 24, 2019

Lesson From a Southern Snake

Eno River State Park, North Carolina (photo by Jake Risch)

Lesson From a Southern Snake

Fear is something that is precise, concrete.
It’s there for a distinct reason –
that being protection.
A snake on a trail
in an unfamiliar place produces fear,
at least in me. 
I knew to be wary as we walked along.
Warm climate, wet conditions
had my well-learned hyper vigilance activated.
And there it was
right in the trail,
though deeply disguised.
I may have sensed it before seeing it
as I called out in alarm.
My fellow hiker turned back
and once we realized we were safe,
that the snake showed no inkling to strike,
fear shifted to awe.
It was actually quite beautiful as it
slowly slithered into a pile of detritus
left behind by the previous night’s rain.
There were clear boundaries
as we respected its space,
and it ours.

Then there are shapeless things that
cause anxiety.
Relationships that do not have
understandable borders.
Erroneous beliefs
 imposed by outside forces
during tender life phases.
Those who have no desire to
explore, discover, change.
As one heals, it becomes more clear
the difference between anxiety and fear.
Fear can serve an important purpose
in the right conditions.
Anxiety, though nebulous,
 can be acknowledged
and released
as one assimilates, brightens,
trusts the pure and benign
power of Love.

Sarah Carlson

June 21, 2019

Regard, Reflect, and Receive

Regard, Reflect, and Receive

Somber clouds surround.
Intrepid traveler ponders, wonders,
but does not worry.
She trusts that she is heading
in the right direction,
though darkness is present.
Her body slowly relaxes and
she notices a golden glimmer ahead.
Wonder slips into awe as
she transitions into the glow.
She glances left to the setting sun,
then right to the arch of a rainbow
that straddles the horizon.
Contemplating recent releases,
she smiles at the timely message from
the omnipresent sky.
Over and over and over again
sky talk makes sense.
Dark, light, shades of gray,
silver linings, radiance.
Constant motion combined
 with peace and quiet.
All there for the eye to behold

once time is taken to notice.
And, if one is troubled,
unsure, or weary
it is vital to
regard, reflect,
and receive.

Sarah Carlson

June 21, 2019

May 29th

I paired this poem with this picture because 17 years ago was so very different in so many ways. One of those ways was the blossoming of the trees on our front lawn. This year they have just opened up in the past few days. In 2002 they had gone by. I remember this because a sun roof was left open in one of our cars the day Barry died and the next morning the back seat was full of flower petals from this very tree.

May 29th

I’ve had such a
flurry of feelings
today.
That’s not unusual
since today is the last day of
‘weird week’,
which always concludes on this date.
Two birthdays, two death days
come and gone
again,
all while school is winding up
before the slide
 into summer.
But, today seemed sort of magnified
with a range of echoing emotions
that swayed and swirled within.
It wasn’t bad or good,
right or wrong.
I just felt what was there
without a pull to fully understand
why or how or if.
It’s a Wednesday again,
only the second time since 2002.
That likely had something to do
with it, too.
Body memories
are so strong
and wise.
May 29th,
you seem to be ending with
feelings of gratitude and
accomplishment,
combined with a healthy dose of
 sorrow and fatigue.
Good night,
and thank you.
I’ll feel you again
next year.

Sarah Carlson

May 29, 2019

Still Waters

Still Waters

Lay back,
absorb all that has come
from your exploration.
Relax as you let still waters
support you, caress you,
 gently transport you
to pristine places.
Your revelations of the goodness,
pureness,
beauty that is you
can and will expand even more.
New challenges,
some that may be furtherings
of what you thought had resolved,
will present themselves.
That’s life as a caring, feeling,
healing human.
It might be confusing

 as your newfound sense of health
converges with brokenness.
But you’ve dealt
with cross currents before,
though maybe not quite as strong.
You’re fine.
So, lay back and sink in,
safe in the knowledge that
still waters
do run deep.
And it’s from stillness
that your wonderful wild child
allows her being
to fully immerse in
universal Love
as she beams
and thrives.

Sarah Carlson

May 21, 2019

Rise Up

One World Trade Center, New York City - May 4, 2019

I do not pretend to know what it was like for the people of New York who experienced 9/11. I only know it from my perspective as a mother and second grade teacher in Maine.
Recently I visited New York City for the first time since celebrating my seventh birthday at the World's Fair in 1964. This time my friends and I were there to participate in the 5 Boro Bike Tour and were able to do some sightseeing on Saturday. One place I knew I wanted to visit was the 9/11 Memorial. And, I'm so glad we did.
That experience and this picture were on my mind as I pedaled on Sunday with 32,000 other hearty souls in the pouring rain through the streets of Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens, Brookyn, and across the Verrazzano Bridge to Staten Island.
This poem is an attempt to capture the feelings and sensations of both being at the memorial and participating in the bike tour.

Rise Up

Brokenness

 and the accompanying trauma

are part of living 

on this planet. 

While some tragedies are shared,

each human has their unique story.

Reasons known or not,

effects tangible or difficult to discern,

our narratives are complex

and contain heartache.

Inner reflection,

the exploration of

 deep, achy places

 requires courage, 

determination,

and honesty.

Within the rubble

is the tenacity of the human spirit,

a collective wish for peace,

the goodness and purity of recovery.

We can and do 

rise up

again and again and again.

At times this is hugely visible,

like a towering structure

that seems to stretch 

to the heavens above. 

Other times it's as subtle

as the shared joy of thousands

of like-minded people

pedaling in the same direction 

on a rainy May day

in a city

where resilience, 

rebuilding,

and renewal

are conspicuous, visceral, and true.

Sarah Carlson

May 8, 2019

The Health of Hush

The Health of Hush

Winds of change swirl and surge,
blow in, around, and through.
In the lull that follows one can breathe,
appreciate calm, let things reorient.
Ever more subtle,
the pull of the moon moves oceans,
tides rise and fall
with in between moments of
noticeable balance.
Each morning,
if conditions are right,
one can witness our star seem to rise.
With it comes the hope of all
that could dawn.
Time marches on,
 twilight approaches,
sun slips behind hills, trees,
or a wide open horizon.
There's a stretch of hush
as light transitions to night.

A deep sense of vigor crystallizes
in the lulls, pulls, hope,
 and hush of healing.
Stillness allows for movement –
radiance steadily brightens
as a whole being
settles into the warmth
 of genuine love,
smiles with
 gentle gratitude for
the flowing, knowing,
and glowing of
the health of hush.

Sarah Carlson

April 23, 2019

The Poetry of Stillness

The Poetry of Stillness

Reflective, seemingly placid waters
are actually on the move.
A natural glide whenever, wherever
there is a slope, however slight.
Motion caused by that downhill flow,
temperature fluctuations,
underground springs,
gentle breezes,
fish swimming,
or even a human paddling
is always present.
The hush of a sunset,

hope of a sunrise,
pull of the moon,

lull of the wind
without movement would not be.
Like the subtle drip of icicles
on a muted morning
after a spring storm,
there are times
 when all seems paused.

There’s a clarity to the interplay
of dark and light,
to what one sees, feels, comprehends
that is deeply undeniable.
All just is as it is,
 a poetically pure moment
of truth and stillness.

Sarah Carlson

April 10, 2019

Quickthaw

Thawing from the roof of my dwelling - March 2019

 Quickthaw

Complex system of sculptured ice,
glacial in nature,
caused by pressures and shifts,
floes and fissures –
moored deep, deep within
 a genuinely warm-hearted being.
Though thawing has been part of her process,
one day faultless conditions clear the way for
a quickthaw.
A flash flood follows
with truly torrential emotions
busting loose her banks.
She is there, in it,
at the same time an observer,
marveling at the beauty
of diverging flows.
She experiences a curious sense of safety,
a distinct ability to be with it, without it,
profit from its power.
Secure in her vessel that,
though tossed about,
stays the course,
is steadfast and right.
And, then…
things settle into a slow and steady melt,
a sliding into newness yet again,
residue dripping away with gentle abandon.
That which remains rearranges to find its rightful place
as she dwells in Light, swells with Love.
Familiar kaleidoscope effect with
an energy that is novel and needed
as her lens becomes more and more clear.
This quickthaw has a power
 that once may have made her fearful,
but now she can embrace
for the healing it produces,
the hope it fosters,
the truth it sets free.

Sarah Carlson

March 25, 2019

A Perfect Storm

A Perfect Storm

Some things are simply futile.

There's literally nothing one can do.

And, yet, there can be a sense of constant demand.

Try this, fix that, come to the rescue.

But you can't fix someone else's brokenness

or rescue them from being stuck in their own muck.

And you shouldn't be expected to.

However, that can be part of the challenge.

You've been groomed to try and try

and try again,

no matter what.

You are yanked in disparate directions,

trapped in the midst of irrational forces.

One day, though, you begin to realize

that you don't have to yield to their energy

any longer

and you slowly,

bit by bit,

claim your freedom.

It may be that some time,

when you're in a place of healing,

those forces converge

for a perfect storm.

Multiple fronts crash into each other and,

though you thought you had already 

given voice to the distress,

your body simply needs to express.

You ride the storm surge,

tossed this way and that,

eventually emerging to calmer waters.

It's a struggle to pull away from the trappings

and come back,

but you do.

It may not feel like quite the same place

and you are stronger, wiser, and so much more free.

Queasy and a bit off balance,

you orient more distinctly to the truth of you,

your place in the world.

You trust that the residual

pitching and rolling will settle,

the pressures that precipitated

a perfect storm will separate and dissipate

as they blow farther and farther away.

It begins to dawn on you 

that you are actually rescuing yourself.

Though gently unsettled,

you feel buoyant, secure, and right.

Sarah Carlson

March 12, 2019

Confluence

 

Confluence

Wispy, pink and mauve clouds drift soundlessly
across an early March sky.
Dusk approaches as more vibrant colors
spread across the horizon.
Waxing crescent moon seems to follow the sun
in the ongoing interplay of celestial bodies.
Banks of snow appear solid,
though they shift and settle with
temperature fluctuations
of longer, brighter days.
Stoic, sleepy trees stand ready
for sap to flow
with awakening.
Warm-hearted woman
takes a moment
to gaze upward
and inward,
smiling at the confluence
of completion,
emergence,

cyclical phases,
and the ever-present promise of
new beginnings.

Sarah Carlson

March 9, 2019

The Power of Quiet

The Power of Quiet

There’s a quiet to being a widow
that is like no other.
At times it involves a deep craving
to share life experiences with
the one who knew you best.
I believe in continued connection
and I treasure those times when
his love shines through.
Whether a sighting in nature,
words that wend through my mind and onto paper,
or simply a sensation beyond explanation,
I do know he’s still there.
Through my writing I talk and process and heal.
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
It just did.
Recently I realized that without the aspect of stillness
poems such as this would not have come to be.
This understanding is so important for my process
because usually there is very little talking back.
I put some of my musings out into the world
and, for the most part,
don’t really know where they go
or what effect they have.
I found that confusing for a time,
but now I can view it as similar
to stopping in my tracks
during a ski on a frozen lake
to breathe and be.
I was alone, but not.
All was still, but not.
There was silence, but not.
Friends skied ahead or rested in cabins.
Clouds drifted overhead, water moved beneath my feet.
My steady breath and the constant breeze 
synchronized into a symphony.
Though responses are always welcome,
yearnings and loneliness will still visit,
I can honestly say that I’m grateful
for the power of quiet.

Sarah Carlson

February 27, 2019

Onward We Flow

Onward We Flow

As things open and a new flow ensues
there can be a gentle discomfort,
a feeling of tender vulnerability.
It’s about a shift away from susceptibility
to that which used to cause hurt.
Emergence and conclusion happening,
sometimes separately,
but more often at once.
A sense of disturbance
may be present,
but is accompanied by
a flourishing appreciation of self
and a differentiation from difficulties.
You realize that problems are not of you,
do not define you,
and there’s a lovely freedom to
choose how and when to react.
This notion is deeply empowering and,
 for one who is used to being hurt,
takes some time for adjustment.
Deeper and stronger, though,
is a continually expanding sense
of no longer being victimized,
of trusting in who you are
in any given moment.
Unease, insight, and freedom
often travel together,
especially when you
welcome them aboard.
So, like burbling water
 in the depth of winter,
onward we flow
together.

Sarah Carlson

February 26, 2019

Reminder From a Winter Sky

Cabin 8 at Gorman Chairback AMC Lodge

Reminder From a Winter Sky

Octagonal cabin sits by
quiet, frozen waters.
Sun slips behind a tranquil horizon
as friends gather together
in a temporary home.
Conversations ebb and flow,
like the ongoing movement beneath the ice.
Laughter, connection, depth and delight
course in and around the lively group
as life stories merge and mingle.
Stars and moon
saturate the darkening sky,
weary skiers rejuvenate and rest.
Night dwindles, morning expands.
Waning moon slowly recedes
as sunlight bathes the opposite shore.
Humans awaken to a brand new day,
ready for another ski adventure
with ample opportunities
to breathe the forest air,
soak in the warmth of the sun,
stretch physical limits.

This skier ponders the way the moon
waxes and wanes
as her energy does the same
on the ski out.
Without one there would not be the other
and there is beauty in all the phases.
She knows to simply allow fatigue
and be thankful for hardiness within.
With that comes a sense of accomplishment,
a freshening of spirit,
 and her stride strengthens once again.
Such a lovely reminder from a winter sky –
just as night gives way to morning,
so does waning lead to
novelty, growth, and fullness.

Sarah Carlson

February 24, 2019

Love You Still

Love You Still

Dear sweet Sarah T.,
I’m here and I
love you still.
I am in awe of all you have done
since I died,
though I’m not surprised in the least.
Your courage and grit,
combined with such gentle compassion,
are part of what drew me to you
along the shores of Saddleback Lake
during that magical summer of 1975.
I saw it, felt it in the

 twinkle of your eyes,
 set of your chin,
 warmth of your smile,
 rhythm of your words.
It was in the way you
pounded tennis balls,
carved a turn,
mothered our children,
loved them and me.
We had a good run
you and I,
but because I left when I did,
how I did,
you’ve had to work hard to recover.
You barely had time to grieve
as so many challenges
and changes happened at once.
I know it’s part of you to be a giver.
But, now you know
it’s also good and right to receive.
So yes, sweet Sarah, go on and
breathe deep the gathering bloom.
Do that not once,
but over and over and over again.
Do what you need to do
in any way that you choose.
It really is okay.
Feel what you feel –
little you, big you,
every space and place within.
Thaw, flow, rest, and recoup.
Honor your graceful gems, allow them
to glisten and gleam in the light of day.
Feel the joys of being you and
always, always remember that I
love you still,
Barry Q. Carlson

Sarah Carlson

February 20, 2019

My Best Life Without You

 

My Best Life Without You

How is it that sometimes I miss you
more than ever before?
A deep missing that involves my
newly breached underpinnings.
Is it because you knew,
you saw those places?
Or maybe it’s because I’m older now,
 not sure just where
I’m going next.
I don’t know if staying in this house
you so loved is good for me.
It’s showing its age and needs some repair.
Maybe that’s part of the missing, too.
I’m not sure what to do,
how to make the foundation strong again
and deal with the other issues it presents.
I can’t seem to keep it warm enough
 this winter, either.
Perhaps being cold makes me
feel more alone.
I even wonder if it’s because the
world now is just so different,
more troubling.
At times things are so clear and
I feel like I just know.
You died,
I’m still here.
I have intrepidly explored, adjusted,
grown stronger and wiser even.
Then there are those ambiguous times
where I feel murky and unsure.
The juxtaposition of the two
 makes me feel tired all the way
down to the depths of my soul.
I don’t experience it as good or bad,
just challenging and true,
part of the whole picture –
both close to home
and in the wider world.
I miss the sense of being in tandem
as we dealt with what came our way.
Soulmates we were, are.
So, that must be it.
I can finally be at peace
with missing you with my entire being.
I imagine in doing that
I can more heartily live
my best life without you.

Sarah Carlson

February 19, 2019