Tiny rocks

One of the first activities that we did on Burnt Island as part of Nature Journaling was to go exploring on our own on the trails and along the shore (it's only 5 acres) to get used to our surroundings as well as begin to look at things more closely - in other words, to give us more of a sense of place. We were to collect specimens of four things that caught our interest in small vials that we had made into 'explorer's necklaces'. One of the things I chose was sand from the small beach area. When we returned we made 'slides' of our findings by using notecards and packing tape. Then we were able to look closely at our tiny discoveries through magnifiers. I was just in awe of what I saw on my homemade slide. The following is a short piece that I wrote after this experience.

Note - the above picture is just one of several that I took of the rocks of the island. I don't have any of sand...:)

Burnt Island Sand

Tumbled, tossed, slammed, splintered.
Giant rocks transformed
into tiny multi-faceted grains.
Part of a greater whole,
and complete on their own.

Sarah Carlson
August 1, 2011

Ocean rhythms

Well, I haven't posted in a while. I'm working on a poem that just doesn't quite seem finished called Heartsong. Perhaps I'm still learning to let my heart truly sing, not sure. I do know that the poetry comes much more slowly now. I'm thinking that's because I am incorporating all that has come over the past few years into my life. I feel the need to be more patient, and that actually feels good.

A few weeks ago I had an amazing week taking a Nature Journaling course for teachers on Burnt Island. It was just so wonderful to be on that little island soaking in the environment and the learning. I did learn to draw a bit as we did many wonderful science based activities. But of course, the need to write was there, too!

The first day we were on the island it was very foggy. When Elaine Jones (instructor AND boat captain...:) picked us up at the dock we really couldn't see much at all. The island isn't very far off Boothbay Harbor, but we could have been in the middle of the ocean for all we could see. The horn of the lighthouse was sounding, due to the dense fog, every 10 seconds. Some people were bothered by that, but I really liked the rhythm of it in the background and could somehow put it where I needed it to be.Later in the afternoon the fog lifted and it was like a present slowly being unwrapped as we took in the vistas from our island perch.

I will most likely write more about the experience later, but I wanted to post this poem that I wrote on the first day there. It was written as the fog was lifting, but the horn was still blowing.
I like how so many of my other pieces wove their way into this one - it's about what I was experiencing in the moment, but about so very much more at the same time...:)

Ocean Rhythms

Soft swells sweep toward the rocky shore.
Bulbous seaweed sways back and forth
on the surface of the salty liquid,
accompanied by the luscious sound of water
lapping onto land.
Sailboat saunters by with mainsail and jib
working in tandem to move the vessel
quietly into port.
Multiple engines throb in the distance –
lobster boats hard at work maneuvering
from trap to trap checking for crustaceans to sell.
All the while the steady pulse of the
Burnt Island Lighthouse
announces solid presence.

Sarah Carlson
Aug. 1, 2011
Written while sitting on a rock
by the Burnt Island boathouse
First day of Nature Journaling class

Be

Well, in the chaos of ending school in a building where I've taught for 21 years and packing to move into a brand new space, along with preparing to ride in the Trek Across Maine - this poem emerged over the past week or so. It came gently and in phases. I carried it in my pocket in its various stages all week and in the quiet of the weekend I think it has now reached completion. It's a bit longer than what I usually write, but I think that's because a whole lot of things came together in this one - an effect of reaping the harvest of a great deal of very hard and important work.

Be

Dark and light, day and night,
shades of gray in between.
Colors of the spectrum,
limitless hues of eclectic energy.
Waltzing grasses in a spring-green field,
frolicking waters of a woodland brook,
billowing clouds that throb and pulsate-
part of a cycle as old as time.
Twinkling snowscape lit by the orb
as it rises above the hills.
Majestic eagle circling, pondering,
connecting as he searches for
whatever he needs.
Slippery sun setting over the horizon,
sky awash with lively light.
Natural world revolving around
and through us as we live, breathe,
be.
Spouses sharing a contented, joyful look as they marvel
at the antics of their precious offspring.
Enlightened mother enfolding her baby
with protection, acceptance, love.
Sympathetic friend listening, lending
support as emotions spill over rocky banks.
Little boy, tear forming in the corner of his eye,
sweetly sharing his feelings of fairness.
Tiny girl, whose fear surfaces from beyond
her knowing, gathering her breath to move on.
Caring adult choosing to be present and honor
who they are at that time in that space.
Moments of our lives unfurl, unravel,
move one into the other as we live, breathe, feel
be.
Do we notice? Are we aware?
Or do magical moments escape us in the
busy-ness of everyday living?
Ocean waves break and roll onto
a sugar sand beach, spread themselves thin
as they explore the nooks and crannies of what
holds them up.
Their molecules seem to fill every void,
some going to ground while others are
pulled back into the waters at large.
Either way, they are part of a whole.
Solitary, yet integrated.
If we look – up, down, all around -
If we pause and
choose to notice, be aware,
we can capture
the magical moments that are so abundant
in the busy-ness of everyday living
as we live, breathe, feel, immerse,
be.

Sarah Carlson

June 7, 2011

This vessel that is me

I wrote this recently after a wonderful dream that included a visit from Barry. He didn't say anything, just seemed to be checking in and sending me love.

Through this process I learned that, more than accepting a loss, you have to open your arms and take it into your being. It becomes part of who you are, but only part. What started as a totally out of control sense of brokenness, for me, turned into an opportunity to learn and grow and expand - a true path of self-discovery that continues.

I still have confusion and uncertainty sometimes, but as I've said before that sense of not knowing usually leads to new understanding. Now I'm working on learning to read the winds and navigate with gratitude, awareness, and love.

This Vessel that is Me

Sliding down a slippery slope,
seemingly out of control – again.
Old patterns pull at me
like a riptide.
But, I simply fill my lungs, flex my muscles
and allow my soul to expand.
Slowly I make the turn
and work my way back up the incline.
He’s there with that familiar, approving,
loving smile -
quietly checking in to be sure
I understand.
I have control of my vehicle now.
I can park wherever I’d like
and go where I want to go
safe in the knowledge that
in the moments of each day
I am at the helm of
this vessel that is me.

Sarah Carlson

April 7, 2011

My dance

This spot, this tree, this river have been such an inspiration to me over the years. I'm grateful for all we experienced as a family in our lovely 'backyard' - through the years and in the days just before Barry died. I also have such a deep sense of gratitude for all the realizations that seeped into my being here and in so many other beautiful spots in the natural world.

My Dance

Buoyed by the waters that hold my body afloat,
varied currents twist and turn
above and below,
carry things both understood
and not -
a flowing that doesn’t require knowing.
I lay back and relax into the sensations
of being right here, right now.
Energies converge to create
a newness
that actually is very old,
My inner rhythms hum throughout
my core with a freedom and openness
that feels good and right.
My caring heart beats, my keen mind rests,
my gentle soul flows
as I experience
the excitement of deeply trusting
all that has come from journeying
through a hub of darkness that,
once exposed and explored,
has enhanced my light.
Old fears replaced by new facets of love
as I continue to release my self to
dance my very own dance
without reservation.
Nothing to hide, no reason to hold back,
simply time to move to the
rhythms that are mine and feel the
delights of dancing
my very own dance.

Sarah Carlson

August 26, 2010

Mountain dance

Mountain Dance

One foot in front of the other,
each of us on the path in our own way,
dancing our own dance
with the mountain.
Over rocks and roots,
along the roaring brook,
past rockfalls and a sheltered turquoise pond,
across bridges made by helpful hands.
Then - out of the woods to the pond that is
caressed by the mountain itself.
Cloud covered splendor,
rock face looking down upon us as
we wonder– will it clear?
Howling nighttime winds a
mountain symphony as we rest,
safe in our deluxe lean-to.
Random breezes curl into our space
and nuzzle our faces with the cool, fresh air.
Awakening to dappled moonlight
illuminating the forest floor,
our dream of a summit attempt through
the wee hours of the morning suddenly
becomes possible.
Again we put one foot in front of the other
and lumber over the rocky way
by the light of the moon
and the headlamps we adorn.
Through the darkness we patiently trek
to the rockslide – our next challenge.
Muscles engaged, spirits willing, minds set,
we move our bodies over the many daunting obstacles
to the crest of the saddle.
Greeted by the full moon we thought had set,
we turn our heads to the east and behold the
brightening colors of the dawn.
Our souls fill with gratitude, awe,
togetherness and so many other
sensations/emotions that are beyond words.
We pause to soak it all in and then head up the
wide open trail that leads us along the saddle
toward our intended destination.
We are accompanied by the still full moon,
the early morning sun surrounded by the multi-colored
sky that heralds the new day,
and the shadows of the great mountain in the
valley below with just a hint of light
on a few of the crests below us.
A brisk wind makes the way even more taxing
but allows us to further appreciate
the energy and magnitude of our environs.
We weave our way to the peak,
barely able to stand as the vigorous winds
whirl and twirl around us.
We are again awash
in the emotion and elation of
our accomplishment.
Each having danced our own individual
mountain dance
we are standing at the top of our state -
Baxter Peak at 5:55 AM on
Tuesday, July 27, 2010.
Strong and vibrant
we are fully in the moment of
being there- together.

For Rob, Katharina, and Molly

by Sarah Carlson - August 4, 2010

Soul dance

Soul Dance

It is time for me to liberate my soul to dance.
At times I have surged to
my inner rhythm,
connected to my cadence,
and allowed my self
to groove to my very own beat.
When that happens I feel right and true and real.
I am vital and I soar.
I turned and faced the unattended sorrows of my life.
I examined the pieces of my aching, broken heart
and diligently assembled them anew.
I trusted the process and meandered
my way to a genuine rebirth.
I was deeply injured, but I have healed.
Old patterns still surface on occasion and catch me unaware,
but if I remember to access the newness - I recognize what to do.
I know I am strong and that it is safe to trust,
that my personal power is mine,
that I am valid and goodness flows
around and through my being,
that I am supported both within and without.
I gaze in the mirror and behold eyes that know,
a face that yearns to be free to let my truth show.
It is time for my soul to dance to the unique pulse of my life,
for me to be wholly available in this world and fully present
in this body which is my home.
Only I can let that happen with the purity I deserve.
Only I can channel the energy generated by all the work
I have done to mend my heart, my mind, my spirit.
I understand now that it is only me that blocks me.
Unfettered and unencumbered,
it is essential that I now empower
my sweet, singular soul to dance.

Sarah Carlson

June 22, 2010

On the wings of love

In memory of Barry F. Carlson - May 23, 1942 to May 29, 2002. Posted with gratitude, joy, love... and anticipation.

On the Wings of Love

He left me and went to
another place,
but his physical absence has
taken on a presence within me.
That presence is love.
I felt it as a force on the very
day of his passing,
a palpable sensation that washed over
me before I even knew he was gone.
It had a potency that I drew from
in the early days,
but it became somewhat tenuous as
I forged my way through the density
of a core of sorrow.
As I slowly and carefully emerge
I am rediscovering that force
with a clear sense of revival.
The love he left behind with me
combined with a newfound self-love,
provides for a free flowing energy
that continually fuels the melding together of
my pieces
This energy fills me with sweet, sublime power and
liberates me to dance a soulful dance as I
gently peel away the definitive layers,
caress my own countenance,
stretch and strengthen my self even more.
Guided by an ageless wisdom,
buoyed by the winds of my soul,
I am truly free to experience flying
on the wings of love.

Sarah Carlson

March 9, 2010

All I did was feel

What we all truly NEED to do - feel the emotions that come along in the moments and phases of our lives without judgment. For many of us, for varied and personal reasons, it is something that is not always easy. I'm grateful that I've learned to be at peace with whatever feelings come up in me and that I can be present and supportive of my self. Not that I don't cherish the people in my life who enjoy my company and with whom I can share and process - it's just that I'm happy that now I can be there/here for me as freely as I can be there for others.

All I Did Was Feel

As I forge into my newness
I am compelled to look back to honor where I have been.
I am filled with gratitude and love,
yet still there is some angst.
There are times when I can just go with my flow and I feel so easy.
Those times are becoming more and more prevalent.
As I ponder the path I have traveled,
gently turning my head to marvel at the obstacles I maneuvered
around and through,
I choose to shift my focus and drink in the depth and value of my discoveries.
Self-worth, connectedness within and without,
fear replaced by love,
and the deep realization that I truly have done nothing wrong.
All I did was feel.
The judgment that I experienced from those on the outside,
those who could not know,
who did not want to share,
who thought they knew how I should travel –
that judgment is not mine.
Only I know the magnitude of my loss,
only I can move ahead on a path
illuminated by an exhilarating combination
of virgin learnings and vintage wisdom.
Only I can decide how I feel about me
and where to go next.
I am not wrong, as all I did was feel whatever it
was I felt all along the way.
And that’s what I will continue to do.
No judgment, no worries,
just feeling my way along this radiant path
that is mine.

Sarah Carlson

February 5, 2009

Wellsprings

Wellsprings

As the wellsprings are tapped,
source of supply
and inspiration,
the dance continues
to unfold.
At times they soar -
lifting above it all,
the pieces slipping into place
for a magnetic flight that fills
the spirit with vibrancy and elation.
But then there is the need
to dip down into the watery depths
for more opportunity to
discover, explore and redefine
without judgment.
Mother and child, in unison, enfolding
each other in highest esteem as
they tap their inner rhythms
and unearth a genuine being.
They now deeply know
that it is good and right
to acknowledge what comes,
a dynamic spectrum from joy to sorrow,
and that they do have the power to
release that which no longer serves.
Inner wisdom that
frees them to capture the cadence,
feel the frolic,
and revel in their rhythms -
together .

Sarah Carlson

November 30, 2009

One rainy night

(Photo by Emma Carlson)

One Rainy Night

I made it
all the way in to my core.
It wasn’t easy,
requiring much courage and determination,
but I did it and have been rewarded with the
joy, the ecstasy of rebirth
that I carry with me each and every day.
Yet still I hurt and have been experiencing an old,
familiar confusion coupled
with feelings I can’t really identify.
I had to let my self be with that for a time,
and on this rainy night my wellsprings
demanded freedom.
So I let them come,
let them go,
let them heal,
let them flow.
I felt such power and release,
freedom and relief.
The rain poured down just outside my window
as my body purged itself of emotion
that was real and valid and didn’t need
to be labeled or understood.
As I released I also felt
goodness and purity
from deep in my root.
It was all there, dark and light entwined,
as I more fully tapped my well and my wellsprings
ebbed and flowed as they needed
without interference from my mind.
My heart simply knew it was time
and I knew to listen.
After the rainy night I stepped out under the still dark
morning sky and looked up at the stars,
visible as the storm clouds cleared.
Nature again reassured me and
I marveled anew at the
wonders of this universe that
includes me.

Sarah Carlson

October 25, 2009

Joyful birth

There is quite a story that goes along with the emergence of this poem - an experience that was a both a culmination and a commencement, and something for which I am extremely grateful. I know what this piece is about for me, but I'm going to let it stand on its own with the hope that it becomes whatever it needs to be for any individual who reads it.
Happy Mother's Day...:)

Joyful Birth

The child awaits,
suspended in a comfortable
liquid womb,
heart beating in unison
with mother’s.
Energy shifts and the time comes
to leave the watery realm and
move into newness.
Mother’s muscles pulsate with the
power of her core,
a rhythm like no other.
Driven by a knowing that comes
from both within and without,
mother and child work in
tandem to dance a dance
that is older than time.
The baby’s soft, pliable body
surges forth as the mother
harvests her labor and
releases a fresh life
into the world.
Together and separate,
a synthesis of beings,
mother and child stretch into
their bodies, reaching,
extending into an ecstasy of cells
unfolding, opening,
brimming with love.
A joyful birth that is right
and real and
richly deserved.

Sarah Carlson

August 26, 2009

Another conversation

These two poems are another 'conversation' that I had with Barry. The first came before the two poems in the previous post and his 'answer' came after them.

I Can Feel You

As the years slip by it becomes
harder to see your face,
hear your voice.
But I can feel you.
Traveling deeper into
the workings of me
I continue to make fresh discoveries.
One is that my most lucid memories of you
are all the subtle, sublime
nuances of our connectedness.
In experiencing the ups and downs
of marriage, raising children,
living,
our bond remained strong and steady,
anchoring us to each other.
I feel it when I slow down
and stay with the softness
of those sensations.
I feel it when I’m with our
children, now grown.
In their humor and empathy,
in their busy minds and caring hearts,
in their energy and their beings.
I feel it as I learn to love, value and
cherish my self
on my own.
I miss you so very much,
but I know you are still there, here,
because I can feel you.

Sarah Carlson

July 31, 2009

I Can Feel You, Too

Sweet, brave, lovely Sarah –
I can feel you, too.
I can feel your despair as you fully grieve
the many losses in your life,
your angst as you finally
know you must disengage,
your loneliness as you forge
ahead in your newness.
But there’s so much more.
I can feel your contentment as you watch our
children widen into their own lives.
I can feel your depth of character as you
gently spread compassion to those
who do share your life now,
I can feel your genuine, rightful wisdom that
emanates from your delightfully
expanding heart.
I can feel the quivering, radiant ebullience that
courses through you during
the times when you are able to let your self flow.
Although I can not be in the physicality
of your life now, your energy
and mine are still linked
in whatever ways you need them to be.
You must trust that and, as you make
room in your heart, know
it is safe and right to
experience, to feel new joys.
Yes, my love,
I can feel you, too.
It’s a glorious feeling
because you are a brilliant being,
so go ahead and shine.

Sarah Carlson

August 20, 2009

Taking the helm

(Photo by Emma Carlson)

In the summer of 2009 I was wide open, having worked very hard to go right straight through that core of darkness that I've described before - the grief, the sorrow, the hurt. I was all the way in and was quite vulnerable. In looking back I remember knowing I had made it in and that I didn't want to stay very long. I knew it was right to have done the work, but it was somewhat difficult to go through this particular phase. So I have been reluctant to share these poems, but at the same time I think they are important. I think it's time to share them because I clearly know that I am not there anymore and the difficulties that I experienced do not fully define me, they are just a part of my life and I did the very best I could all along the way. I didn't do anything wrong, I just did the best I could - and I do believe now that my best was, for the most part, pretty darn good.
So... big gulp... here are two that show how disorienting some of this all was, but again how each and every time I wrote hope somehow wove it's way into my words.

Inner Compass

The disrobing happened,
the shroud dispersed
in soft folds near my feet.
I’m here in my skin,
heart peacefully beating.
but now I am exposed.
I’ve tested the waters of
newness before,
even set sail for a bit,
yet I’ve never been quite
able to trust my inner compass
to truly show me the way.
Now the person that he saw all along,
is becoming visible to me
as I twist the lens on my self.
I feel his knowing
in my growing,
in my own deep recognition of me.
My inner compass has served me
well in many ways,
but there are further adjustments needed
that only I can make.
The sense of having traveled far,
of coming home again,
is very present.
I’m slightly disoriented,
and will still need some help,
but I know I will get my bearings
as I wrap myself in the
light and airy
tapestry of discovery and realization
and take the helm
of this vessel that is me.

Sarah Carlson

August 7, 2009

Dead in the Water

Okay, so I’ve taken the helm,
but I can’t seem to actually steer.
I hear the wind blowing,
see the sun in the
omnipresent blue sky.
Yet, today I’m dead in the water,
becalmed
once again by grief and loneliness.
I have a destination in mind,
but I can’t seem to move in that direction.
The tears are flowing,
my very own tears,
because I want to share with someone.
Is that wrong?
I don’t know, I really don’t know.
I paddle, pedal, eat, walk, contemplate
so often by myself.
I know I am able,
but I’m tired of being alone,
of wondering if my phone
might ring so I can hear
a human voice and interact
with someone who cares
about me.
I have worked hard to
understand that I fit in me as I am,
but I still feel vulnerable,
dead in the water,
though I have taken the helm.
I can’t help but wonder,
Now what?
Where do I go now?
Why, at times, do I still feel so alone?

Sarah Carlson

August 8, 2009

A place to fit

This poem came to mind recently and I was surprised to discover that I hadn't posted it. It's been important to me lately because I realized that I'm still moving in to this dwelling that is me...:)

A Place to Fit

I keep trying to find a way,
a place
to fit.
For so long I’ve searched
and pondered and wondered.
The years of my marriage were
a partnership of caring, understanding
and love.
We fit together and made each other
complete.
Yet, as I look back I know I still
felt unease within.
As I’ve traveled to many places
in this journey of sorrow and grief,
on this quest for healing,
the question remains -
Where do I fit?
As I clear out the last of the clutter
I think I finally understand that
the elusive place I’ve been looking for
is right inside
of me.
It is simply time to move into
the glorious space that is
my self -
a promising place to
fit right in.

Sarah Carlson

August 24, 2008

Hello readers!
I just want to say that I do know that most of my pictures have disappeared. I'm not sure how or why that happened, but it did. I have really enjoyed pairing my photography with my poems and was quite pleased with how this blog has been coming together. And then came the missing photography mystery. I am working on reposting the pictures, but it will probably take some time. For now the words to many of my pieces will have to stand alone.
Thank you for taking time to read my work.
Gratefully,
Sarah Carlson

Soft around the edges

(Photo by Emma Carlson)

Yesterday I was at Saddleback Mountain volunteering with Maine Handicapped Skiing. I had a wondrous day in many ways. I had the pleasure and honor of being on a team working with a visually impaired skier. He and the rest of the people on the team had never skied at Saddleback and, because it used to be my home, I was the 'mountain guide'. The sky was a lovely blue, the temperature cold enough to keep the snow from becoming heavy, and the sun full of spring warmth - an unusual combination that also included incredible views of the many lakes of the Rangeley area and snow covered Mt. Washington in the distance.

In the afternoon I was asked to be the lead and there I was cruising down one of my favorite places on earth with the participant right on my tails. I felt strong and sure, confident and caring, rhythmic and right. One thing I didn't feel was sadness. That's quite something because in the past when I went to Saddleback sorrow was quite strong, missing Barry a large part of the experience. And though it has diminished over time, yesterday it just wasn't there.

This morning, though, I had a bit of a grief burst. Emotion surfaced and I started to judge - an old pattern of, "But I've done all this work, why am I sad again?" But then I recognized it for what it was and just let it go. I realized that for most all of yesterday I had simply been in the moments as they happened and that the brief tears this morning were just a delayed reaction, a very minute part of the truly wonderful experience that I shared with my participant, my team, my daughter and good friends. It was a very soft sadness that made me think of this poem. Another piece that meant one thing when I wrote it, but means something different to me now.

Soft Around the Edges

In letting go, breaking away
I’m feeling hazy.
Not lost in the fog -
just nebulous, murky, vague.
Like the morning mist that
sometimes hovers over my
beloved river
waiting for the early morning
light to gently warm the vapors
left behind by the coolness
of the night.
Soft around the edges,
muffled and serene,
it lets go in wisps
that curl away,
seeming to disappear,
yet part of an ongoing cycle.
Water attracted to water,
a haze layered over the flow.
Not threatening, or even definable,
simply there for a time.
But as always the river
knows where to go.
It doesn’t question.
It just takes whatever comes
and continues along its way.
Another lesson to be learned.
I don’t always need to know,
only to allow my self to flow.

Sarah Carlson

July 21, 2009

Turbulence and calm... together

I had an experience recently which helped me understand that my analytical, metaphor seeking mind has been working overtime for quite a while. It will take some practice, I believe, to not strive for understanding so much of the time. I'm getting better at noticing things of this nature, a by-product of this process for which I am very grateful.

Here are two poems that I wrote that again have a water focus. The first one was written when I was in the thick of delving into the sadness of loss. The second came as I was working my way back out the other side - a direct result of one of those metaphoric connections that I experienced right after a polarity treatment. I remember biking by the outlet of Great Pond in Belgrade Lakes and watching the water pouring into Long Pond. It was loud and powerful, but then I noticed beyond the turbulent water there was a lovely moment of settling - and beyond that was stillness and peace. Both there together with everything in between... ever-changing...:)

Whitewater

Thunderous waves
crashing over rocks, fallen trees.
Powerful currents
going wherever they please.
Everything changes
when floodwaters roar through,
making it difficult to know
what to do.
Boundaries alter,
creating unrest and despair
and the need to reach out
to people who care.
It’s important to think, but
acknowledging what is felt
is the key to getting
the ice to melt.
Yes, in order to move
the water must flow,
and it always knows
the way to go.
Stagnation doesn’t work
in this dynamic world,
so feel the power, ride the waves,
let your self be unfurled.

Sarah Carlson

Feb. 6, 2008

Turbulence

Boiling, churning, scouring -
wihitewater ravages as it flows.
Bedrock tumbles, soil loosens,
roots become exposed.
Surging waters alter the
landscape and that place
is never again quite the same.
But the torrent
eventually settles,
provides relief for
saturated banks weakened
by the barrage.
As the raging subsides
the way opens and the
flow continues anew.
There can be beauty in both
turbulence and calm,
but still waters after a storm
reflect whatever goodness
that enfolds them.
Vigorous trees, tranquil hills,
silver lined clouds in
a radiant sky illuminated by
a gently setting sun.
A pristine world ready to be
treasured and enjoyed,
free from the
relentless turbulence
of what was.

Sarah Carlson

June 22, 2009

Quiet presence

I was a presenter at a hospice training this past weekend - again on the topic of rituals and good byes. I read several of my poems and it felt good and right. I'm going to post two that I read and another that I just found in my notebook. That Morning was written at a Hospice Education Day in 2008 and is about a moment I had the morning of the day Barry died. In My Dreams came a during a time when I had several dreams about him. That Morning, Too is about another visit with what happened, with what was.
I think I feel drawn to posting these tonight because I just miss him. I've said good bye to what was and hello to a new way to be. I'm fine - I simply miss the man I shared so much with and who was such a good listener. I need to talk... so here they are.

That Morning

I can see it, hear it, feel it
so clearly -
that morning.
Warm sunlight
streamed in the window
as the cool breeze
stirred the curtains
next to where you lay.
I paused,
took in the moment,
listened to your
sweet, contented breath
and felt your easy presence,
your love.
That moment, that memory
that morning
sustains me
as I greet new days
on my own.

Sarah Carlson

August 13, 2008

written at the Hospice Education Day

In My Dreams

I keep seeing you
in my dreams.
I feel your quiet presence
in the wee hours of the morning.
You come,
but you are always leaving
and it seems okay.
I can feel that you are content
wherever it is that you’ve gone.
I keep wanting to go with you,
but you make it clear that I cannot.
The last time you were carrying
a pack and I had the sense
that you wanted to take away my hurts
and other things I no longer need.
Thank you, my love.
Thank you for the wonderful years
we shared here in this life.
Thank you for your wisdom, your grace,
and your love.
Thank you for helping me through
this transition as you send
sweet and caring messages
in my dreams.

Sarah Carlson

October 23, 2008

That Morning, Too

I used to feel guilty
that I was not with you when you died.
But my whole heart and my settled mind
know, that in truth, I was.
That morning was so beautiful with
gentle breezes stirring leaves
newly opened after winter’s sleep,
blue sky and warm spring sun
illuminating a world bursting with life.
We were in different places,
me in my classroom,
you on the court,
but we were together.
I know that now.
That morning my attention was drawn out,
away from my self and my surroundings.
I stood by the window several times
and stared, but I saw nothing.
Something was calling me,
and now I know it was you.
Later, as I turned up the hospital drive,
you came to me.
You left us that morning,
but before you went you made sure
I felt the strength of our love.
It washed over me,
flowed through me,
bolstered me for what was to come.
And now as I put words to this,
I feel a renewed sense of joy and gratitude.
In tandem for 27 years
we were together that morning, too.

Sarah Carlson

March 2, 2009

In and Out

In July of 2008 I attended a week long conference on poetry and teaching at the Frost Place in New Hampshire. When I was there among those 'learned poets' I felt somewhat limited in my writing ability at times. But there was also a part of me that understood that my words, written in my own style really did (and do) possess true worth. I remember standing in the the barn that had been turned into a conference center - right there at the home where Robert Frost had written many of his incredible poems - reading my own work in front of the group. As always, there were many different currents flowing through my being and it was a very empowering, somewhat humbling, experience. So much has happened since then. I've opened further, found my voice even more, cried many tears, experienced joy without reservation, and discovered the peace of my self settling into this one and only me.

Today I have felt an old, familiar energy that usually meant a poem was surfacing. I miss writing them - haven't written one since last August. I wonder if maybe they will come differently and I need to be mindful of what else might be there within. But then I had the idea of opening my notebook to see what might be calling out to be posted and I found these three. In was written during the conference. Unfurling and Enfolding were written in the weeks just after I returned. It has been lovely to revisit them...

In

Through the keyhole
wafting among elastic,
eager minds
eclectic energy
ebbs, flows,
sparkles, sifts, settles -
channeling the energy within
as the joy of shared discovery
permeates the room.

Sarah Carlson

July 3, 2008

In the barn of the Frost Place

Unfurling

The layers unravel and reveal
innate beauty, her core.
Stretching, testing,
the rapture of her truth
buoys her and...
suddenly she feels exposed,
vulnerable, unsafe.
Curling back upon herself
she thinks she is wrong, again.
The lure of her truth,
newly freed,
pulls at her and she
relaxes and unfurls once more.
Ahhh there it is,
ecstasy, energy and love -
the ability to trust,
to be just as she is.
She feels it, thinks she is there
and once again the old patterns
cause her to wither and curl.
But this time as she does,
she recognizes that something
is leaving, vaporizing into
the Universe and she
understands her process
as a slow, gentle
unfurling as she learns to
simply be herself
in the moments of
her life.

Sarah Carlson

July 11, 2008

Enfolding

Like a rose she opens
to her world
anew.
Like a day lily
she curls in
at night.
Opening and closing she
tests, tries, tarries a while
when it feels
right.
Her eyes see things she
didn’t recognize
before.
Her mind functions
more in tandem with
her heart.
She wraps her arms
around all that is
hers,
beautiful body,
open heart,
active mind,
loving soul.
Embracing all that is
within and without,
she knows that her gifts
are hers
to honor and share.
Enfolding - going in
to all that is good,
instead of going
away.

Sarah Carlson

July 20, 2008

Healing my broken heart

These speak for themselves - two heartfelt pieces that shed light on profound movement from a deeply broken heart to one that is fully open to appreciate love that was, immerse in love that is, and... be expectant of love that will be.

A Heart Reborn

As I find my voice and learn
to trust in living my truth,
my good and caring heart
is beginning to dance.
There is an excitement,
an exuberance,
that has long
been hovering on my fringes.
I can feel it moving as my center
quivers with an energy
that is new to me.
As it awakens
my heart stretches and tests,
fills the once hidden crannies,
and turns somersaults
in my core.
Open, ready, whole -
a heart reborn.

Sarah Carlson

June 4, 2008

Peace in My Heart

I more clearly understand the shroud of
fear I have carried for so long.
I view it as a heavy, dark, red cape
with many folds that curl back on
one another providing nooks
where unknown fears have long
hidden in the shadows.
Yet now I can also picture it
as it cascades away from me,
gently curling aside and
encircling me at my feet,
layer upon layer upon layer.
For now I know that I don’t
have to understand everything
that is in those folds,
I simply have to let it fall
as it will.
That it once feigned protection,
but now is beautiful as it unwinds.
That it contains heartache,
but also much that helped
me tap the well of my own true core.
That as it falls my once
broken heart not only fully
heals, but becomes free and expansive.
I believe the dust is finally settling
from the battles that
this spunky warrior has waged,
taking on much more than
she ever could have imagined,
and now it is time
to not only know peace,
but feel it in my heart, as well.

Sarah Carlson

August 7, 2009

Perseverance - in need of a little love

The above pictures were taken one lovely spring evening in 2008 - May 28th to be exact. I often go down to my special spot by Barker Brook at that time of year. As I've related before it is always very healing and settling to be there. This particular evening I was sitting on the rocky beach letting my dog swim and play in the water - and all of a sudden I heard peeping. I looked up to see this little guy bobbing along in the flow of the brook. He noticed me and started to come my way, but Sophie (my dog) wanted to frolic in the water with him - and he wanted nothing to do with that. Sophie excitedly swam toward him and he somehow got away and went into the woods on the other side. I think it helped a bit that I was screaming at her to leave him alone...:) I looked around to see if there was a mother duck (at this point I assumed it was a duckling) anywhere around, but I didn't see or hear one at all. This intrepid little bird went through the woods and crossed the brook at a shallow area and made his way right for my feet! I just couldn't believe it. He just peeped and peeped - and anytime I moved he came with me. By this time Sophie had accepted my clear message that he was off limits for play OR for consumption. So there I stood with a little bird between my feet, no mother in sight, and nighttime coming on. I really wanted to help the little guy, but wasn't quite sure what to do. I thought that perhaps if I left him alone that his mother would come back so I reluctantly headed up the trail to home. He, however, had other ideas and followed me up a steep bank, along the trail, and up the road to my front lawn - peeping incessantly all the while! Right then and there I named him Persy - short for Perseverance.

There's much more to the story, including a Game Warden instructing me over the phone how to rock him to sleep so I could take him back where I found him in the hopes that his mother would MAYBE come back to him. By this time it was dark and, with the help of a neighbor, we were able to find someone who raised him at her home. It turned out that he was a Canadian gosling. Late in the summer he was released with a flock of geese that was living in the town park in Rangeley. I often wonder how he made out - and I will never forget how amazing it was to be sought out by a creature of the wild who needed love, care and help - and knew how to get it.

Perseverance

Baby bird, abandoned,
rides the flow of the brook.
Peeping his fear and
loneliness
he sees a chance for help.
Making his way to shore
he is challenged and threatened
by a creature larger than
himself.
He eludes the danger and
makes his way to the other side
to hide.
Knowing he cannot make it alone he
takes a chance and crosses the shallows -
drawn to the being he
somehow knows understands his needs.
He follows her,
tripping over rocks and roots,
instinctively trusting her worth.
She finds a way to help and,
in time,
he gains strength,
finds his voice,
fills out his body,
stretches his wings
and is released to enjoy
the wild and
wonderful world.

Sarah Carlson

August 24, 2008
inspired by Persy,
a Canadian gosling
who followed me home from
Barker Brook
on May 28, 2008

Good sorrow

Letting them flow led to this piece - one of my favorites in many ways.

Good Sorrow

I never thought that sorrow
could be a good thing,
but, truthfully,
when it is felt for the purpose of release,
when it is honored and not judged
it is a very good thing.
Experiencing sorrow means
that you care about
what was and, as importantly,
about what is.
It provides the outlet
for true grief to happen
as it should.
In going into the goodness
of sorrow
one can find meaning
and solace,
and love.
So I wish good sorrow
to all who have lost something
or someone.
Let it come,
let it go,
let it heal,
let it flow.
Good sorrow.

Sarah Carlson
June 24, 2008

Learning to allow them to flow

I've known that this post needed to happen because tears are so very important, but I wasn't sure just when. Today, though, I've had some gentle tears flowing and so it seems right. I think and feel that today's tears have partially been about this blog in some ways, but I'm not exactly sure. As I've said before it's been interesting to revisit all these words that came to the surface as I explored sorrow and grief. At times it's still hard to know if I'm on the right track putting all this out there. But then I have an experience like I did last night when someone approaches me and lets me know how helpful it is for them to read my words. Responses like that fortify me for sure. So today I think the tears were a very sublime mix that I really don't need to analyze or explain any further. They were just there, washed some things away, and led to my putting this post together. It's all about understanding that, contrary to what society tells us and what many of us learn, at times it IS necessary and healing to cry. These three poems represent how that extremely critical realization worked its way into my being.

True Tears of Grief

I thought I had already cried
tears of grief,
but I hadn’t really
let them flow.
Even when my
molten core erupted,
I judged.
I didn't intend to,
I just hadn’t quite fully internalized
that I belong,
I deserve, I am not wrong.
As I unravel the layers,
peel away the attachments,
and re-examine my pieces
the blankness is filling
with a deeper understanding of
my essence.
And as it does
I can finally grieve
without reservation.
I can cry gentle tears of yearning
and surrender.
I can cry cleansing tears of
purity and release.
I can cry true
tears of grief.

Sarah Carlson

March 12, 2008

Integrated Tears

And so they flow,
old tears and new.
Her tears, my tears, ours.
I can feel little girl sadness
bubbling to the surface
even before they come.
My body lets me know
with pains that are clearly
begging for an outlet.
I’m not afraid of them anymore,
understanding the need
for expression and release of
old fears, deep despair,
and multiple origins of grief.
And so they flow,
not as often,
but so very strongly when
they come.
Integrated tears that have
the power to fully
wash away unwanted debris
and make room
for experiencing the
joys and the wonders
of me.

Sarah Carlson

March 24, 2008

Rainbow Tears

The floodgates have opened
all the way
and I’m crying rainbow tears.
A multi-hued mixture
of fury, gratitude,
despair, joy, frustration
and things I cannot define.
But mostly these
beautiful and necessary droplets
are tears of grief
for what was and is now gone,
for what was not and
can never be,
for time lost living
the misperceptions I internalized.
Gently or with gusto
they come and they go -
unencumbered by judgment
or fear,
washing away anguish,
detoxifying my being
and making room for further
acknowledgment of the goodness
in me and in my world.
Rainbow tears
of honor and release.

Sarah Carlson

May 31, 2008

Letting joy in and out

I think this might be a good place to revisit that as one learns to acknowledge sadness and despair with the intent of letting go there becomes more and more room to experience other emotions ... like joy. I alluded to this earlier in the post titled Moments of Joy, but as I continued on I remember more distinctly feeling the tandem nature of letting go and being able to let other things, good things, in. I noticed this several times out in the natural world as I explored my shadow, which would sort of creep into my consciousness as a more free and playful side of me. Two of those times made their way into this poem.

I've also noticed lately that once you feel more comfortable with feeling joyful within it more naturally flows outwardly, as well.

Me and My Shadow

Hello wonderful shadow.
I’ve enjoyed your playful presence
lately.
Moon shadow, sun shadow -
my joyful side
coming to life,
testing, teasing,
no longer feeling the need
to fully hide.
Walking by the river
by the light of a full moon,
there you were
frolicking along the glowing
riverbank on the other side.
Cruising down a mountain
under a perfectly blue sky,
not a cloud in sight,
you came up from behind
and took over the run.
I felt your sheer exuberance
and joy
as we danced down the trail
with power and grace.
Welcome, shadow,
come whenever you like.
Welcome.

Sarah Carlson

February 27, 2008