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