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

Ethereal Moments

Ethereal Moments

Winter storm lays a blanket of
  fluffy, puffy snow
on the sparkling ground.
Three women meet at a trailhead,
two ending their ski,
one just beginning.
A gentle conversation emerges
as they gaze above,
in awe of the way
 velvety clouds
stretch and drift,
 muted colors gently pulsating
in the layers of droplets.
They talk of love and loss,
grace and gain,
chance and change.
So often it’s hard to make sense
of that which happens to us,
around us.
We can get cluttered by
worry and wonder,
care and concern.
And then there are those moments
when you know you are
in the right place,
at the right time.
You can look to the trees
and clouds and waters,
into the eyes of the humans
who share
and let the meaning be
whatever you want it to be.
Ethereal moments of
natural connection
when you can simply
 sigh,
 settle,
and savor.

Sarah Carlson

February 14, 2019

Dear Me,

Dear Me,

It’s okay.
Feel what you feel,
right here, right now.
It’s not wrong, ever.
You’ve carried the pain of others
long enough.
So long that it was
lodged deep within,
had to be excavated
and explored.
That’s why it’s been so much work
and the sensations are stale
 when it surfaces and loosens.
Why you feel such a mixture of
 frozen and flowy,
confused and clear,
powerless and powerful.
You’ve done it,
exposed the roots of that
which was imposed.
It’s not your pain,
never should have been.
and it’s okay to
cry it away,
breathe deep the beauty
of who you are,
let yourself fully unfurl.
You are not hurting anyone,
need not feel beholden,
in allowing this to happen.
It’s safe and right
and richly deserved
for you to be free
from that particular suffering.
I know it can be scary
and you are still wary of being wrong
when these truths shine through.
That’s a tendril of the trauma, though.
You know that now.
It’s part of your blossoming to
let it go,
let it flow
away.
Love doesn’t hurt,
so let go the pain.
Cry your cleansing tears,
smile your lovely smile,
and be you.

With love,

Sarah Carlson

February 12, 2019

Breathe Deep the Gathering Bloom

Photo by Terry Owens

The poem Late Lament, by Moody Blues drummer Graeme Edge, is in spoken word as part of the song Nights in White Satin. I must have listened to it often as a teenager in the early/mid 70s. The first line is, "Breathe deep the gathering gloom." The poem ends with, "But we decide which is right and which is an illusion."
Clearly something was stirred recently from those bygone days as the first line of my poem dropped into my head right after an osteopathic treatment.

Breathe Deep the Gathering Bloom

Breathe deep the gathering bloom
as visceral freedom oozes, flows
in, out, and all about.
Open-hearted,
she settles more and more and more
into the bounty of exploring
her Divine fathoms.
Gently she twists the lens
and this time,
each time now,
her innate beauty reveals
in such a way
 that she simply smiles
and knows.
Some detritus may appear
every now and again,
and there may still be some thawing,
but she is keenly aware
of what to do.
Let the decomposition and melting
kindle

as she roots, foliates,
blossoms.
Ah yes,
breathe deep,

loosen, resolve,
allow the ongoing

graceful unfurling
of her beautiful being.
Breathe deep the gathering bloom.

Sarah Carlson

January 29, 2019

Worn Out by Winter?

During the experience represented below I had some moments of loneliness and despair. But they were quickly replaced with the humor of it all, along with the recognition that I am strong and able and get the job done.

Worn Out by Winter?

I woke up this morning with things on my mind.
I wanted to clean out my wood stove
so I could use the ashes to spread
on the skating rink that is my driveway.
And, of course, the stove actually needed cleaning.
With the temperature a balmy 5 degrees
I thought this would be a good chance to
accomplish this feat.
However, when I opened the stove
I noticed the ashes still had some life to them.
Not wanting to carry the ash pan
with lively ashes through my house,
I realized I should shovel out the back door
and up around my deck.
This actually needed to be done anyway,
just in case I run out of wood (good chance of that)
and have to rely on my gas stove later on.
Can’t get gas delivered if the tank is inaccessible.
I hadn’t done this before the rain storm came
that followed the last snow storm due
a sore shoulder that let me know
enough was enough after
cleaning off the front walkway
 and the deck (4 times).
This meant that shoveling this morning
included breaking through an ornery crust
to get to the crystalline snow below,
then lifting it up above the mountainous
banks that now surround.
The ashes, cooled by their new resting place,
 now pave a route to my car,
creating both safety and the messiness
of tracking said ashes into my house.
As I finished I wearily wondered,
“Am I,
 a lover of snow,
 worn out by winter?”
This was quickly followed by,
“Nah, I think I’ll go skiing!”

Sarah Carlson

January 26, 2019