The Wonder of the Moment

 The Wonder of the Moment

The soft, familiar longing
that accompanies each new year
has once again
shifted within.
I can feel it without
judgment or regret,
let tears trickle or flow
 if there is a need
without even trying to
identify the source.
The biggest change, however,
 is an ever growing reconnection
to the sense of wonder I felt
from the day we met.
I feel it blossom when
I teach in new ways,
spend time with our children,
write these very words.
It swirls and saturates
as our precious grandson
rekindles
a visceral connection
to the joys of
discovery and awe.
Like the magic of noticing
 the bell you were given
on a Christmas Train
looks just like the one in the book
that your Oma reads to you
on a winter’s eve
as she tucks you into bed.
AND, having the words
to express the truth and
wonder of the moment.
I’m so grateful to be heading
 into the newness
of 2023 with all of this
aboard.

Sarah Carlson
December 31, 2022

Tender Light Softens - Video exerpt from Tender Light Softens: When the Deep Places Speak

 This is one of my favorite poems from my new book. It was written after a cross country ski at my local ski area on March 4, 2020 as the pandemic was approaching. It's an example of a piece that continues to speak to me in new and varied ways and that touches others in whatever ways they might need in their own lives.

Solstice Sensations

 Solstice Sensations

 I sit  by a tree
that is essentially just for me,
 treasure the coziness
of its gentle glow
as it mingles with the dark.
I smile at the memories
that each ornament contains,
feel the light of your love
and gratitude for the loves
our children have found.
With bright anticipation
of Christmas with our
two-year-old grandson,
the radiance of his joy
and daily discoveries,
I honor the softness
of ever more settling within.
There is some stiffness still.
Yet, like the shafts
of a low December sun
that make their way
through snow covered trees,
there is always
hope in the hollows,
glimmer through the gloom,
energy of ease.
During these times
I savor the wholesomeness
of finding company
in the gentle goodness
of me.
Solstice sensations
that, though unexpected,
I receive and embrace
gratefully.

Sarah Carlson
December 21, 2022

Faith That Reveals

Faith That Reveals

In this softening of my soul,
there is a liberation of spirit and emotions.
I woke up at least twice last night
with a gasp,
followed by tears,
and even a visit of anger.
I feel a sort of stuckness
in my hips and spine,
as if something
that has been impeded,
or even tethered,
is soon to be freed.
I know this to be good,
and it is also hard
to experience solo.
I’m going to let it unfold as it will,
maybe reach out for help….
Ohhhhh… there it is.
That must be at least part of what
needs to go.
The sense of failure that
still pesters just beyond
my awareness
when I feel vulnerable
and have a need.
The memories harbored in my body
of being negated
when I dared to ask, speak,
wonder, cry.
There, I’ve named it.
Maybe that will help
and my faith will continue to reveal.
I’ll find balance
in these reflections,
which include how brave I’ve been
to access healing,
process so much alone,
share my poetry along the way.

Sarah Carlson
November 12, 2022

A Serene Softening

A Serene Softening

A recent experience
of feeling safe, buoyant,
held yet again,
enables an intricate mix
of vulnerability and courage
to stir deep within.

Outworn, inflicted patterns,
once carefully concealed,
are bathed in light,
given the opportunity
to disperse, absorb, transmute
in whatever ways are right.
Dynamic stillness
yields ever more opportunity
to notice, honor, allow
with far less tension and disquiet.
This can feel drifty, muffled, vague
as when winds or rains
interrupt crystal clear reflections.
What glee there can be
when those images resettle,
 can be observed
with fresh awareness,
insight, and delight.
When one was taught that
needing help means weakness or failure,
which was essentially only true for you,
the recognition of the bold energy it has taken
to look deep and up and out
since the loss of a Love that anchored
is both validating and liberating.
There’s a serene softening of the soul.
Rest calmly on solid banks
as confusion clears,
 energy enlivens
in your depths, in the wideness,
and within the faith that reveals.

Sarah Carlson
November 11, 2022

Golden Nuggets

 Golden Nuggets

Along a dirt road,
autumn leaves mostly down,
bright yellow poplar leaves
catch our eye.
We stop,
gaze upward
to enjoy
those that quake
on lofty branches
against a backdrop
 of brilliant blue.
A memory unfolds
of a second grade student,
who gently touched my arm
on a walking field trip
in local woods
as he noticed a similar scene.
Often quiet and detached,
something in him
enlivened.
.“Look!” he gasped.
“They’re like golden nuggets
dancing in the sun!”
I can still feel the moment,
revisit our tandem smiles,
from all those years ago.
A delightful golden nugget
for a retired teacher
walking in places
anew.

Sarah Carlson
October 29, 2022

October Swim

 October Swim

A warm sun
speaks of summer,
though Autumn
has surely arrived.
Pleasantly surprised
when the water whispers
in agreement,
 she plunges
all the way in.
As always,
the combination
of buoyancy and freedom
enlivens and invigorates.
Maple leaves catch her eye
as they float gently by –
timely reminders
of detaching,
    shifting,
        realigning
happening deep within
 and all around.
She allows herself to
savor the currents,
rejoice in the ripples,
appreciate the radiance
of change yet again.
The beauty of this October swim
has been held in her heart since then.
And so she writes to capture
such moments
of connection
in poetry –
which she boldly gathers
are, in essence,
her prayers.

Sarah Carlson
October 15, 2022

Remember

Photo by Emma Carlson

 

This is a piece written a month or so ago about an experience with this wonderful boy (and his Mama) at Reid State Park, Maine.

 

Remember

Ocean waves crest and roll
onto the beach where we stand
hand-in-hand.
Waters recede,
sand slides away
beneath our feet.
His tiny hand grips hard
and a gasp rushes forth.
I feel the energy of his fear,
pick him up in my arms,
gently let him know
we are safe
right there together.
I realize that something I have
experienced many times
is yet another first for him.
My awareness opens wide,
 along with my heart,
and he slowly settles into
my loving care.
The ground did move,
it felt as if we were sinking.
Yet, solid we are
in our togetherness.
Thank you once again,
sweet Otto,
for helping me remember
the gentle goodness
of trusting in Love.

Oma (Sarah Carlson)
August 31, 2022

Tender Variations

 

I recently did a reading at a library here in Maine. One listener remarked about how there is so much movement and hope in my pieces. And, it made me wonder - did I gloss over the difficulties that led to the words and images that flow? Another listener remarked about how she has been intrigued by the beauty and nuances of shades of gray. I've been pondering that reading, those reactions, since then. This piece came over the past few days.

Tender Variations

I’ve been digging through
this house of mine
and it’s amazing
what I’ve unearthed.
I know these things
have been here all along,
and I am so happy to be
  seeing them with fresh perspective.
Some are written evidence of
turbulent times and troubled thoughts
that seemed so black and white
way back when.
Holding them anew allows me
to enfold or disperse,
contemplate or dismiss,
follow my genuine desires.
Some of them I crumple up,
put them in my wood stove,
let them quietly burn.
They glow, curl, dissipate.
Whispers of comfort and vigor
fill my being
as smoke coils up and out.
I honor the
distress that was,
recognize the dissolution,
welcome the space provided
by letting go.
The pain and loneliness
of dysfunction and loss
are real and true.
Yet, we humans have
an amazing capacity
to act from a place
of grace and hope
when we so choose.
From there
 edges can soften,
shades of gray enlighten,
tender variations
reveal the truth of
unconditional Love.

Sarah Carlson
August 18, 2022

Quiet Currents

I seem to have circled around, twisted the lens on what the title of my second book means. The motion of stillness, the health of the dissolution of that which is not viable to one's authenticity.

 Quiet Currents

I slide quietly  
off the dock
as sunlight slowly expands
into a cloud swaddled sky
and onto the barely rippled pond.
My feet leave the ground
and I rejoice
at the familiar comfort
of being buoyant and free.
I’m a bit achy
from a misstep that led
to a fall
just the evening before,
which enhances the freedom
and delight
even more.
I swim slowly,
soft waters
embrace my skin,
harmonize my body,
nurture my depths.
Quiet currents
of a summer morning
stir deep gratitude within.
Thank you….
to the Divine –
both in the wideness
and in me,
to the waters –
both of the lake,
and of me,
to me –
both in my body,
and in the wideness.
And,
to all beings who notice,
honor, allow –
I do, too.

Sarah Carlson
July 29, 2022

Found

 Found

I stand on a beach
in the wildness of the wind.
Whitecaps crash on the breakwater,
sand and small stones stir at my feet.
Something stirs in me, too.
It doesn’t feel good or bad.
I’m just aware.
I head into the lake,
swim straight into the wind,
honor the effort it takes
to keep my head above water.
I scan the surface as I swim,
break through the larger waves
with my hands,
let those less intense lift me
and let me back down.
I smile with a sense that I’m likely
the only human in or on the lake,
feel inherent vigor,
settle into a cadence that takes me far.
I rest on a familiar rock
where dragonflies often visit.
But, today even they
must be wary of the wind.
As I head back to the beach
the waves become propulsion,
a welcome shift in perspective.

A few days later,
that which had stirred
 is unloosened.
A depth of loneliness is back
and I feel sort of lost
in swells of eclectic emotions.
And then I remember the waves,
both lake and ocean,
how when their rhythm is joined,
one is not lost,
but found.

Sarah Carlson
July 11, 2022

Out There

 Out There

I look to the blue wideness,
feel the rhythm of the waves,
appreciate so much that
is good in my life.
I ponder yet again how
one can feel full
and empty at the
very same time.
This fullness comes from
salty, sandy, joyful
beach time shared
with offspring
and offspring of offspring.
The emptiness is actually
small, but mighty.
Perhaps some of it comes from
the closing of a career,
saying good-bye to a mother and father,
 solo pandemic time,
missing the one with whom
I would have processed all that.
No matter how hard I’ve tried
in the 20 years since he died,
I can’t seem to find community
here where we lived.
This particular loneliness
is very real
and I feel right in naming it.
For so long I thought it came
from something I
must have done wrong,
like grieve.
My healing has shown me
that simply isn’t true.
So I look once again
to the blue wideness
and realize there’s so much more …
                                                      out there.
                                                                        And out there
                                                            includes me.

Sarah Carlson
July 7, 2022

Fostering Hope

 Fostering Hope

Such hard work
 has lead to
a more clear, less obstructed
 recognition of courage,
substance,
and truth
in me,
in the writing that
flows from my depths.
I am grateful that
grief and loss
steered me both inward
and outward.
I am in awe that,
though deeply wounded,
 I found my way to
trust the path of healing
and its meanders.
I am comfortable expressing
an appreciation of the being
I am now,
have always been.
More and more
I treasure my essence
as it reveals delicate facets,
reflects the warmth of the mid-day sun,
resonates with the pulse of the ocean,
radiates love with the openness
of a wide-eyed child.
I find hope in me,
that fosters hope for
the world we live in
right here, right now.

Sarah Carlson
July 7, 2022

As Wide as the Ocean

photo by Emma Carlson

 As Wide as the Ocean

Decompress,
                        restore,
             recover.
Feet held by cool sand,
legs awash in foamy brine,
soul soothed by
            the sight,
                            sound,
                                                sensations,
                            of rhythmic waves
                    as they
                                swell,
                                         roll,
                                                    crest,
                                                                break,
                                                uprush,
                                     backwash,
                 intermingle
        over and over
    and over again.
Shoulders back,
heart open,
breath comes
with ease.
As wide as the ocean—
fully you,
fully me,
all the way in it
together.

Sarah Carlson
July 5, 2022

The Power of Love

On this the 20 year mark of Barry's death, I share with so much gratitude for having had the time I did with him, for the children we raised, for the grandson who brings so much light and love to our lives, and for the ways I have found to grow along the way.

 

 The Power of Love

Taking an evening stroll
around our loop,
paddling to a favorite rock
on the shore of a quiet lake,
seeing a familiar twinkle
in the eyes of our grandson.
My thoughts circle back
 to tender memories,
softly tinged with missing you,
that continue to hold so true.
Sacred fog may surround,
 clouds may open
to the warmth of the sun
or the tenderness of
a glowing moon.
You are there, here
with us all.
The deep despair
of your passing
has slowly transformed
to a gentle grief.
Not a burden to carry,
more a sweet reminder
of the power of  Love.
I felt it when we met,
through our lives together,
on the day you died.
I feel it still,
a constant source
as I continue to explore,

absorb,
and heal.

Sarah Carlson
May 29-30, 2022

Subtle Grandeur

 

I haven't been writing as much lately, which has actually felt good. I've been allowing myself to rest in the sacred fog that I wrote about a few weeks ago.

I'm now right in the middle of what I affectionately call Weird Week. It starts with May 22, the day my brother died in 1987. The next day is my husband Barry's birthday. He would have been 80 this year. Today is my birthday and then May 29th will mark 20 years since Barry died. 

I had a moment after an osteopathic treatment yesterday where I felt a shift in how I usually experience this week and this poem is an attempt to capture that. I can't really tell how it might come across, but it felt very good to write.

The photo was taken last Sunday (May 22nd) at a gathering of family and friends atop Mt. Washington.

Subtle Grandeur

One beautiful spring day,
20 years ago,
life changed dramatically.
Eventually I chose to
walk into the grief
of such a sudden loss.
There has been
 both murkiness and clarity
along the way,
the path
filled with
challenges and shifts,
flowing tears,
 and billowing joys.
I’ve landed
in a place where I can
honor the pain of loss,
 the depth of love shared,
 the person I have become.
Imperfectly perfect
just as I am,
I ground
to the accomplishments
all these years have contained.
 I sit atop a mountain
precious grandson in my lap,
both our children nearby.
I breath a contented sigh
as I look to mountain waves
that stretch
across the horizon.
Subtle grandeur that contains
 stillness and movement,
grace and peace,
hope and promise,
and so very much love.

Sarah Carlson
May 26, 2022

 

Sacred Fog

 Sacred Fog

As one drops in
and widens,
there can be a sense
of being in a sort of
sacred fog.
There is a softness here.
Though that which
 once anchored
has altered,
there is safety, too.
Rhythmic waves
create a gentle harmony
that blends with breath and heart.
Vastness may not be visible,
yet is both discernible
and inclusive.
This sacred fog
can allow for
that which aches or tugs
or threatens
to disperse
as light once more
works its way
around and through
from above.

Sarah Carlson
May 11, 2022

The Quiet Beauty of You

 

The Quiet Beauty of You

Slow down.
Feel the energy
of an emerging sun,
awakening trees,
distant mountains,
warming waters.
Let awareness
of your sweet self
deepen and widen
as you reflect
and are reflected.
Inhale… draw in.
Exhale… be drawn out
for as many agains
as you need.
Let tension soften,
effort rest,
wonderings pause
for however long
they do.
Slow down even more.

Stand or sit or lay
in stillness
and see what comes,
what goes,
what settles anew.
No right,
no wrong,
no need to judge.
Stop, breathe,
allow yourself
to relax into
the quiet beauty
of you.

Sarah Carlson
April 11, 2022

 

The Broken Can Blossom

 

The Broken Can Blossom

My attention drifts out
the kitchen window
as I ponder an issue
I have been grappling with
for quite some time.
My body is a bit tense,
but my eyes are soft
as my focus is actually within.
Slowly, ever so slowly,
my awareness is captured
by a plant on the windowsill.
Not just any plant, though.
An orchid that had been cherished
by my mother
and hasn’t bloomed since
her death almost two years ago.
There’s a stem with several buds
and a branch, almost fully separated,
 that bends around the back of the pot.
I turn it slowly,
breathe in deeply
as my eyes focus
 on a blossom that had been
quietly seeking the sun
without my knowing.
A slow smile extends
throughout my being.
Ah yes,
the broken can blossom.
And when they do,
there is beauty that is
intricate and profound
and deeply genuine.
What a gift for all
 who choose to see.

Sarah Carlson
April 4, 2022

Wake More Fully to Beauty

 Wake More Fully to Beauty

A settled being,
now restless with
a wanting to understand,
 be understood,
in a situation that is static and stale.
A deep despair at a lack of success,
not knowing what else to do or say.
She opens her eyes to a dark house,
though she knows her light
to be true.
She gazes out the window
as the late winter sun slowly
makes its way through the darkness,
illuminates a surprising scene.
Drawn out the door,
she turns her face to the sky,
 takes in the still softness
of an unexpected snow.
She smiles at the message
to wake more fully to beauty—
that which surrounds
and that which resides within.

Sarah Carlson
March 16, 2022

Illumine

 Illumine

Ah, yes.
Here comes
the widening light
of late winter.
Its soft comfort reaches
that which had been,
or at least felt,
stiff and static
with an energy that
brings hope
and promise
and flow.
Sometimes when it
illumines
deep, dark places
there may be a lull
before loosening,
 a need
to shade one’s eyes
or even turn away
 for time to adjust
to that which stirs.
When it feels right,
one can
appreciate the
dynamic interplay
of shadows and shimmers,
let relief and renewal
unfold as they will,
and come home
to oneself
yet again.

Sarah Carlson
March 4-8, 2022

A Hope-Finder

 A Hope-Finder

I stand in a familiar valley,
sensations of rich sadness
and vibrant health
somehow coexisting within.
I stop and breathe,
honor the tension of
 that which seems
so diametrically opposed.
I gaze to the mountain
that has been part of my life
since before I can remember.
Such a mix of joy and sorrow
on its slopes and at its base.
I sigh.
A sad smile slowly widens
as I realize that through it all,
I have been a hope-finder,
an embracer and recorder
 of oh-my-gosh moments.
Some of the tension
 releases with a sweet gentleness.
There is a depth and a width
to that which goes,
partnered once again
with a recognition
 of growth and healing.
The strength and sacredness
of the surrounds
allow for reorientation
to Divine truth,
 enfolding the energy
of all inclusive Love.
Deeper, wider,
beautifully benign,
with hope and abundance that
is there for us all.

Sarah Carlson
February 24, 2022

Tender Light Softens, Still

 Tender Light Softens, Still

Early morning
after a prolific winter storm.
I ski through familiar woods,
trees and trail
cloaked in fleecy snow
that sparkles underfoot.
Mellow morning sun
slowly warms the frosty air
as clouds gently disperse.
At the top of the ridge I
pause in the peace of the pines,
welcome the wisdom of the woods,
bathe in the benevolence
 and beauty of it all
once again.
 Tensions
of life in a pandemic lessen
as I turn to descend.
I let my skis fly,
enjoy a giggle that surfaces,
feel my self enliven.
My thoughts drift back to the days
just before COVID
as we wondered what was coming.
I honor what we as a collective
have endured for almost two years.
I acknowledge
the grace with which I, myself,
move my way through—
  grateful to be in a place
where hope often runs free,
the comfort of Love is present,
  tender Light softens, still.

Sarah Carlson
February 5, 2022

Anew

Anew

 I watch my sweet grandson
look here, there, everywhere
as he discovers his way
in this wonderful world.
My mind drifts back to our children
doing the same,
to times with my father
finding stories in the clouds,
to that special night by the river
as two geese provided
a divine moment that has
fortified me for almost 20 years.
I think of all the messages
from the natural world
that confirm or accentuate my healing,
 make their way through
my mind and heart to these poems
I share with courage, hope, and love.
Though I know there is more
to mend, learn, write, share,
I offer some straightforward advice.
Please remember to pause, look, ponder—
in the midst of the storm,
during times of transition,
 in the mundane moments
along the way.
Up, down, in, out.
Scan the horizon,
notice minutiae,
twist the lens
when the time is right.
None of us are strangers to heartache,
which is all the more reason
to let beauty
such as a fleeting sunset sky
bolster one’s being
 anew.

Sarah Carlson
January 28, 2022

Step Into the Storm

Step Into the Storm

 

Sometimes, not always,
there is reason
to step into a storm.
Only you will know when, if,
the time is right.
There’s a sense of carefully
turning to
instead of away,
which can allow for
liberation of static tension
that may have been bound up
for a very long time.
It becomes dynamic,
with releases that are
both breath taking
and breath giving.
Sometimes in the midst
of a storm
one may feel lonely,
unsure,
even disoriented.
Take refuge if necessary.
Or pause,
remember,
notice,
allow.
Be still and
feel the sacred flow
of breath, health,
connection,
love.
Even prickly pine needles
may have downy blankets
before the winds of change stir.
Beauty and comfort only seen
by finding the courage
to step into the storm.

Sarah Carlson
January 18, 2022