4 Roberts Avenue

Drawing of 4 Roberts Avenue by me - 1967

I remember drawing this picture of my childhood home. It was for an art project in 5th grade. I'm pretty sure I had put if off and by the time I got down to business I had to hurry because of incoming rain. I can actually remember the drops starting to fall and running for the breezeway. I don't think I even had time to put my beloved black bike into the garage before the downpour came.
My parents loved this and it hung in the house from the time I brought it back home from school until I took it down a few months ago as I cleaned out the house.
Today this piece came as I process the sale of the home that my parents bought just before I was born.

4 Roberts Avenue

My address from birth to 18.
The key was ‘hidden’ on the second shelf
of a corner cupboard in the breezeway.
On the left was the door
to the funky garage that housed
Merry Meeting Black Jack’s kennel
and my brother’s darkroom,
but never, ever had room for a car.
Breezeway and funky garage
no longer exist,
except in my memories,
replaced by a large entryway,
heated garage,
and not-quite-finished addition.
On the right was the door to the kitchen,
once a sort of disjointed affair,
but redone, made more open in 1971.
The wonderful screened-in back porch
became a lovely sunroom in 1986,
but the rest of the home didn’t
change much over the years,
at least not its solid structure.
I’m saying good-bye to that house
and I feel content with new people
making its spaces their own.
It most definitely is time for that.
But I miss my family, all three.
Geof, whose bedroom and mine shared a wall,
who was diligent in his studies and his fitness,
who made sure that all his Senior friends
helped out his Freshman sister
at Waterville High the same year
as the kitchen remodel.
Dad, who tucked me in every night
in my little green bedroom,
listening to tales of my day.
Mom, who took such joy 
in the house being ours, hers,
and intrepidly maintained it as home
until she could no longer.
Once the four of us, now only me.
I just miss them.
4 Roberts Avenue,
I’ll miss you a bit, too.

Sarah Carlson

July 12, 2020

In Between

I recently had quite a crash on my mountain bike. A slippery bridge after some rain, a branch that caused a slight weight change as I ducked - and down I went. Hard. Into the rails with my arm, ribs, and head. I was with a good friend who came back and sat with me as I worked to get my bearings. I tried getting up and realized I needed some more time to just sit on that bridge. With my friend. Eventually we made it out of the woods, but not before we had a wonderful talk about some changes we were both going through in our lives.
It's been a week or so now and sparkling moments of that conversation keep coming back to me. This piece is a compilation of some of the gems that came from sitting on a bridge after a tumble.

In Between

A bridge goes from one side
to another.
From here to there.
Yet, when you get there,
it’s actually a new here
and onward you go.
I’ve been thinking lately
that the spans of bridges actually
 have something to teach.
Marvels of engineering,
it is those spans where
the true magic resides
as they miraculously
bear the load.
I think it wise to
pause on a bridge
every so often,
take a look at what’s going on
below, within, above.
Whether a bridge
crosses some muck
on a woodsy trail,
carries you across
flowing waters,
 takes you over a path
that leads somewhere else,
there’s something soothing about
 suspending in the moments
of in between
and being
right where you are.

Sarah Carlson

July 10, 2020

It's Time for Truth

Artwork by a fourth grader who made this poster to help welcome my new class a few years ago

I am taking a bit of a departure and writing in prose. Though I do it with caution, and mindfully, I really needed to put this out into the world just now. Thank you in advance to those who choose to sit with these words.

It's Time for Truth

    It’s time for teachers to share our stories, to speak our truths. Like most educators I tend to quietly weave the intricacies of teaching together to provide a fabric of safety and love for my students. That continued in the shocking change that happened on March 15, 2020 - the day we found out that we were to teach from home starting the very next day.
    We had two days to get materials together for take-home packets and then a few days to begin to figure out what things would look like from there. I live alone and so had plenty of time  to attend the amazing webinars and content specialist meetings that the Maine Department of Education provided. I taught myself how to use Google Classroom and had help from some cohort-mates from an online mindfulness class in learning how to use YouTube. I used that to provide math lessons, moments of mindfulness, and read-alouds that led to nature journaling. And on it all went. I, like so many teachers all over the world, changed the way I approached teaching in a very short time. We really did turn on a dime. I took the words of  Pender Makin, the Commissioner of Education in Maine, to heart. I dove in and ‘fearlessly educated’ my students.
    Though I missed face to face interactions with my students, there was much I did like about remote teaching/learning. I felt safe and free to use my innate creativity to find my way back to interacting with them. Most climbed aboard with the help of their wonderful, supportive families. The ways they did that varied depending upon circumstances, but I welcomed them in whatever those ways needed to be. It wasn’t totally smooth sailing, to be sure. But, with all things considered, it wasn’t a total loss as many people seem to think. We were most definitely not a sinking ship.
    During the time of remote teaching I achieved the goal of independently publishing my second book of poetry and photography. Now, like many authors, I have boxes and boxes of books with limited opportunities to get them into the world. In addition to that I was also trying to find ways to support from afar my intrepid, elderly, visually impaired mother who lived alone in a neighboring town. 5 weeks into remote teaching she passed away. And so began the work of adjusting to that, taking care of a house full of memories, and the many other aspects of dealing with a loss. I did not take any bereavement time because I didn’t want to leave my students adrift. The way our contract stipulated that time had to be taken just didn’t fit the circumstances. So I just kept on going. As the school year ended I was in the beginning stages of planning a way to lay both my parents to rest in the midst of a pandemic. Again, on it all went.
    I share all this because it’s a glimpse into the world of this human being who happens to be a teacher. Looking back I honestly don’t know how I made it though. But now, here we are at the beginning of July with a new school year looming. We’re hearing all kinds of scenarios and possibilities, with many, many opinions about what should happen next. So many of those opinions clearly come from perceptions that are not at all grounded in the realities of the public school setting. And time is in very short supply.
    What’s really true is that we just don’t know what will happen if kids return to school. What’s clear is that our country has not handled this pandemic in such a way that we can feel safe to gather together. What’s painfully obvious to those of us who work in school buildings is that the logistics of physical distancing and the other CDC guidelines are mind-boggling.
    I can honestly say that, as an educator with 30 years of experience, I don’t know that I can ‘fearlessly educate’ in person in my school building. I’ll go further into honesty to say that I don’t know that I even want to try. It may be that I will need to do something that I, along with most educators, rarely do. That being, put myself first. Though I do not feel ready to end my teaching career, it may be that will be the best choice for me. I have to put away feeling selfish or entitled and sit with what’s true. I have selflessly given my support, my guidance, my heart to hundreds of students and families over the years. It may be that I need to offer that to my self at a time and in a society when the feelings and needs of educators are often overlooked. I say that with love. But, it’s true. My hope is in writing this is that others may find a way and a time to share their stories, too. Because it really is time for truth.

Sarah Carlson
July 7, 2020
Farmington, ME

My Mother's Garden

My Mother’s Garden

She devised a seemingly beautiful space
 inside our home.
But, it was outside
where the real beauty took hold.
An open field
that gradually became
a meandering garden
with trees for shade
and places to rest.
She created it over time,
a place for her respite and delight.
I tried to join her there,
but we were usually going
in conflicting directions.
At least that’s how it felt.
Occasionally,
our paths would merge,
but it was brief
and I couldn’t seem to match her step,
 perhaps wasn’t meant to.
I knew to follow love,
even came back to be married there.
The last time I talked with my brother
was right there, too.
The disjointed, confusing
 energy of the place
has been present throughout.
But now as I prepare
to fully walk away,
I can more freely reap the benefits
of other seeds that were sown.
Athleticism, strength, courage,
ability to find hope, no matter what.
I have those with me, too.
I can recognize and allow the blossoms
of my mother’s garden.
I can be me right where I am.
I don’t have to be
there anymore.

Sarah Carlson

July 3, 2020

A World Askew Quiets

A World Askew Quiets

Stepping into clear waters,
 she disrupts the surface,
makes it ripple a bit.
Unsettled sunbeams
wiggle and dance
as her toes sink slightly
into soft sand.
Gratefully, she fills her lungs,
 smiles with simple delight,
starts her gentle morning swim
as cavorting light continues.
Her mind drifts with wonder
at how chaos and calm
can occupy
the very same space,
 images of those interweaving beams
amplifying her awareness.
Buoyant body relaxes,
energy aligns,
spirit enlivens.
The buzzing energy of
a world askew quiets
and she settles ever more deeply
into her lively, loving home.

Sarah Carlson

June 26, 2020

Allow the Clouds

Allow the Clouds

We all know that clouds
come and go.
Sometimes when they
have settled low on the horizon,
they have the potential
to be a bit smothering,
though the waters below
are no less silky.
Their denseness may temporarily
overpower the ease and warmth
of lightness within,
so it is important
to remember that eventually,
no matter what,
they do drift away
with changing winds.
With these understandings aboard
it becomes easier to
allow the clouds
to be whatever, however
they are.
There is always light
above them, behind them.
Whether it be the twinkling stars
and glowing moon of night,
or the gleaming sun of day,
the truth of Light
is undeniable.

 If we do
allow the clouds,
we discover
they, too,
have a necessary
validity

and there is ease 

to embracing it all.

Sarah Carlson

June 23, 2020

On a Clear Day

On a Clear Day

Sliding once again into 

restorative, silky waters

she lays back,

allows natural buoyancy to 

hold her steady and balanced.

So many beautiful 

words have flowed through her 

and into the world. 

She knows they represent

the truth of healing.

With a profound realization
 that she had to fully trust
 her own memories
 of the wound

in order to deeply embody
  those truths,

she again feels something

novel and familiar.

She feels herself.

All the way in,

all the way out.

No need to apologize

or try so very hard.

That's what's happening now -

unlearning the constant sense

that there must be effort 

in order to earn

the right

 to be who she is. 

Letting go the habit of

 waiting with bated breath

to see if she made a mistake

or failed.

Trusting the clarity that's present

on a clear day,

while knowing clouds

will come and go,

but that she didn't cause the clouds.

They are simply there

and will pass.

She can and will continue
to settle more and more
 into the comfort and safety
of being

 at home
in herself.
On those clear days,
any day really,
it's okay to simply be.

Sarah Carlson

June 18, 2020

Let You Be at Peace

Let You Be at Peace

You left so much
for me to sort through.
It's been a challenge,
but more importantly,
 a gift.
It helped me see
that what I remember is true.

The tug of the house
and all it contained was strong,
but the pull of love
has more vigor, warmth,
and radiance.
I knew to follow it,
have done so with
courage and tenacity
that also comes from you.

And so, Mom and Dad,

now it's time for me

 to let you be at peace.

Rest together 

as the struggles
 really are over.

Know that I love you,

always have, always will.

I know you love me, too.
You have my gratitude
and my hope that you
settle into Grace,

be with Love,

rest in Peace.

Love, Sarah

June 25, 2020

This Poetic Me

This Poetic Me

Familiar scenes experienced 

through an ever-changing lens.

Opportunities to explore

that which happened long ago

from the perspective of health.

The unwinding

 of a very complex ravel

without having to analyze

every part of the weave. 

A sense of gratitude 

for things kept hidden away,

though for reasons not fully known,

to be found by a daughter

lovingly sorting through it all.

 Correspondence between

a brother and a sister,

dated September 1964,

hinting at the brokenness

between them.

Journals written by a mother

 infused with deep despair,

detailed descriptions of disquiet.

Letters brimming 

with wisdom and love,

 from an 18, 19, 20 year old me.

All revealing the validity 

of my memories, sensations, 

 bygone distress.  

Sweetly sinking into

 a gentle realigning, 

a truly novel 

sense of balance,

mingled with a recognition

that reflections 

don't have to be fully clear

to allow for the 

peace of understanding

 and the safety of self.

This deep dive into what was

verifies the reasons 

for my careful explorations,

 upholds the exquisite grace

of the images and insights 

that emerge from

this poetic me.

Sarah Carlson

June 13, 2020

 

 

Let Go the Disquiet

Let Go the Disquiet

Her nose wrinkles,

head aches,

chest tightens,

and then something shadowy

that does not have,

or need,

clear definition

goes.

Though wispy and nebulous,

it has a pungent mustiness,

a stale sense of

foreboding.

It curls away in a smoky haze,

taking with it that 

which never really did belong

to her. 

So much harbored in its layers 

wounded her,

and she needs reassurance that

it cannot, will not

hurt anyone else

ever. 

Her wonder-filled wild child 

needs to know

and she's learned to ask

or name or speak

instead of holding on,

holding in,

particularly in this time

of grief and upheaval

 within her being

and in the wider world.

She feels a deep sense of promise

as her beautiful body balances

and she slowly, gently

lets go the disquiet,

hands it over to the Divine,

once again breathes in the

 fresh, clean breezes

 of release, renewal,

and rejuvenation.

Sarah Carlson

June 3, 2020

 

At Home

 At Home

Sorting through a house that 

I don't remember ever feeling much

like a home.

Loaded layers,

varied valuables,

records of ruin,

random, self-serving journals.

Loving, caring, compassionate me.

Gently present as I always have been,

making sense of a tangled mess

that, once unraveled,

reveals truths.

Some that I knew all along,

others that have 

an exciting novelty.

The most important is –

I am safely

at home

in me.  

And, with that on board,

I can forgive,

feel grateful,

 tap ever more deeply into

the Light of Love.

My own gentle presence

lovingly settles 

into the amazing experience

 of being safely

 at home

in me.

Sarah Carlson

June 2, 2020

 

Dear, Sweet, Beautiful Self

Dear, Sweet, Beautiful Self

She breathes deep the gathering bloom,

pushes through the ground,

straightens and

opens to the light of day.

She relishes the feel of

sunlight on her skin,

breezes on her face,

orienting of her cells

to newness.

Even under the cold weight 

of grief, 

she feels her strength

and kindness

and empathetic nature.

She knows these will help her

 attend to her own needs.

It is heavy,

this grief.

It has many angles and facets,

twists and turns,

faces and memories.

And, it surely is 

a strange time 

to experience all this.

A time when there are 

other forms of grief

 in the here and now.

And so she pauses

and breathes,

slowly acknowledges

that she must allow it to be,

that it will melt or flow or wisp away

when the time is right. 

It may make her bend,

cause some distress,

but she knows

she will not break.

She must take time,

be patient and kind

with her dear, sweet, 

beautiful self.

Sarah Carlson

May 9, 2020

 

 

Rejuvenation

 Rejuvenation 

Roots hold fast, 

pull nourishment from 

the awakening ground.

Limbs softly sway,

reach into the warmth 

and glow of the wide open sky.

Inner world enlivens

as trunk aligns,

joints and cells settle 

right where they need to be. 

A breath, a stretch, a gaze above.

Traumatic tensions

 from a long, cold winter

wisp away,

replaced by peaceful currents

 of growth and hope.

Though winter held a beauty all its own

and much was gleaned

 from its presence,

the time has come 

for rejuvenation.

Sarah Carlson

May 5, 2020

Pandemic Peace

I wrote this piece to use as a guided meditation for my Mindful Schools cohort group the Sunday before my mother died. As I re-read it recently, I realized that I also wrote it for her and that it was very present as I talked with her on the phone as things started to come undone just two days later. And, as time has gone on I realize I wrote it for me, for you, for all of us. With just a few revisions from the original piece, here it is:

Pandemic Peace

Deep, deep breaths,
in…. out… in… out… in … out.
Within the solid walls of your home,
and the linear edges of your computer screen,
settle into the soft
surrounds of your body,
If your mind is at first busy,
appreciate your amazing ability to think.
Then, allow thoughts to fade or rise
 or flow away.
Relax your eyebrows and behind your eyes.
Let that sense of ease slide down to your jaw
as you allow it to slacken.
Downward into your neck,
comfort seeps to your shoulders
as muscles slowly and surely
softly, ever so softly, settle.
Now….
drop into your heart space,
that place where you really are.
Feel the expansiveness
of love… and compassion
as they gently swirl
 in and around and through.
Sit with this for a bit,
giving quiet a chance to widen.


As you let your time of stillness
come to an end,
imagine this love and compassion
that resides in your heart space
as a golden glow.
Feel it warm you from within,
while at the very same time you
let it wend its way
into the reality of room where you are,
the virtual space we share,
the wider world
where all of us everywhere
can feel its smooth and silky support.
May we feel this love in tandem.
May we embrace this compassion as a community.
May we allow this peace that can be found
in these currents of quiet
that flow from our hearts
to buoy us and sustain us
as we navigate this pandemic together.

Sarah Carlson

April 19, 2020

The Light of Love, Too

A poem about this topic has been on my mind, in my heart, for a while. There is a poem in The Radiance of Change titled The Light of Love that is also paired with this picture. I've come to understand that Light more clearly over time. What follows was written between a tele-med osteopathic treatment in the middle of the day and some very tender time with my mother before she ended up in the hospital later that night. She passed away the next day.
Here I am a week and a half later, finding this piece in my drafts as I remember the many complex facets of our almost 63 years as mother and daughter.
This is a photo of a very special place in my heart - Campsite 11 on Student's Island,  Mooselookmeguntic Lake, Maine.

The Light of Love, Too

Freedom comes as one opens
to the Light of Love
without reservation or defense.
Its branches and tendrils,
currents and vapors,
are both earthbound
and lofty.
It is ready and available
for giving and receiving,
for the conduit to be complete.

Vulnerable infant,
wide-eyed toddler,
sweet little girl,
anxious teen…
For all those years love
flowed naturally from her
into her world.
It was reciprocated,
but not always by those
who were the receivers,
so she wondered and worried
that perhaps she did not deserve.
Then, her life and his merged
and she couldn’t help but let
the strength of his love in.
It was truly undeniable.
It provided an anchor and she relaxed
in the flow of marriage, motherhood, and teaching.
Tragedy struck and she became
 adrift and unsure once more,
though love still emanated from within.
Her natural propensity to care for others
remained strong
while the sense of possible unworthiness
again took hold in a that deep, familiar place.
Choosing to explore her fathoms,
over time she has learned to let go the pulls,
release the tensions,
allow the full, deep breath
of Spirit to enter,
restore, revitalize.
Slowly, steadily
she internalizes
 that she really does deserve
that Light of Love, too.
Nothing to do
other than continue
to learn to allow it
 to manifest and bolster
her innate vitality.

Sarah Carlson

April 21, 2020

When the Deep Spaces Speak

When the Deep Places Speak

Awakenings –
when things open and unfurl,
fueled by the warmth of
nurturing, golden light 
from above and around
and within.
Surfaces and cells 
stretch, soften,
give voice to all
that has been and
needs acknowledgment
in the now. 
Some things,
long forgotten,
may seep to the surface
or adhere from outside.
This may ache,
 cause some quivers,
or the need to cry away.
There will likely be grief
from things known
and things not.
Another opportunity
to sit in stillness,
 let come what may,
allow it into
  the light of day.
No need to carry,
or hold on, 
or be held back
any longer.
No need to worry,

judge, 

allow concocted wrongness
 to infiltrate.

Roots hold fast,

purity flows,

love supports and embraces

when those powerful and pure

 deep places speak.

Sarah Carlson

April 7-17, 2020

The Grief of Isolation

I wrote this during a recent power outage that accompanied a spring snowstorm here in Maine. Somehow being without what electricity brings to our lives paved the way for many emotions and sensations to surface. I have hesitated to share this, but as I recover a bit from the fatigue that came after 60 hours without power, I realized how important it really is to name what's going on. Especially now. I have come to understand that in order to be with whatever comes, learn from this (or any) time in our lives, we have to acknowledge what's there.

The Grief of Isolation

First off, I do know
that I am not fully alone.
I get it, I really do.
However,
in these days and weeks,
now likely to be months,
of the physical distancing
of Covid 19,
I am isolated, 

spend much of my time solo.
A widow,
one who has worked hard
to explore and learn from
the many facets of loss,
the grief of not having him here
is true.
A mother,
who did her best to be present

with our chidren

after his death,
there is grief to what
shifted between us.
A teacher,
one who thrives
on the inlets and outlets
of sharing in a classroom community,
there is grief in not being with students,
to being unsure as to how to find a new flow.
A sister,
whose brother died long ago.
A daughter,
whose father is gone
and whose mother cannot see.
A poet,
with a book full of her love
and healing,
but that sits in boxes with
nowhere to go.
All these pieces and more
are mine,
are part of me.
There is deep grief present.
I will sit with it, learn from it,
partner it with gratitude for all that is good.
But, I had to name it.
It’s real and strong,
just like me.
I’ll be okay,
but deep grief
 is definitely present.

Sarah Carlson

April 10, 2020

To the Moon

Full Moon Rising from Mosher Hill in Farmington, Maine

To the Moon

Your presence is so steady,
your phases predictable,
your comings and goings
such a delight.
You have the power to pull tides,
shift energies,
reflect the sun’s light.
Your patterns
have a quiet
soothing majesty.
Sometimes being with you
is especially profound,
 resonates deeply,
both within and without.

On a familiar hilltop she waits,
wonders where you are
as she anticipates your full rising.
She sees the low clouds,
but doesn’t realize
how dense they are
until your vibrant light emerges,
higher in the sky than expected.
She breathes, sighs, settles.
As you slowly make your way
into the twilight sky
she feels her own light expand
with yours
as inner clouds disperse.
You gently tug her heartstrings,
allowing antiquated pulls to lessen.
She breathes, sighs, settles even more.
With one more look
she gratefully
turns toward home,
your light,
her light,
leading her
tenderly there.

Sarah Carlson

April 10, 2020

The Flooding and the Freeing

The Flooding and the Freeing

Fortifying liquid flows
around, through, and in.
A flood,
but with a power that is
gentle and comfortable and right.
Surface sparkles submerge,
travel to far reaches,
ignite ever more fully that which
has long been kindled.
Detritus that had collected
along the shores
and in varied nooks
wobbles in the waves,
then cleanly clears away.
Pure, wholesome waters glide
as a soft breeze delivers
clarity, truth, newness.
A twitch, a breath,
a release, a remembering,
a blending together within.
Body fills with tender recognition
of pristine, cohesive pieces of self.
Misty, mindful eyes marvel at
a pulsating mosaic of colors
as those pieces re-combine and align.

Soul expands without encumbrance
from solid ground
to lofty stars
and back again.
Circuit completes with
a fresh, relaxing, full breath

 as the flood softly
gives way
to freedom.

Sarah Carlson

March 25, 2020

Togetherness

To all the teachers and students and the many others in the world of education who are experiencing such monumental change right now...

Togetherness

The rhythm of our seasons,
the dance of sun and Earth,
the interplay of dark and light.

We started school as summer was ending
and the Autumnal Equinox approached.
We got to know each other,
found our rhythms in our classrooms -
together.
Leaves changed and so did we.
The light of day dwindled

as winter and the holidays came upon us.
 Winder Solstice was another transition,
a time to notice and celebrate the dark of night,
the promise of growing light.
Our cadence became stronger as community grew
and our minds and hearts did, too.
Slowly, day by day, light has expanded
as snow melts, trees awaken,
birds chirp their springtime songs.
The Vernal Equinox is here
as we welcome it
apart from each other.
Days will continue to lengthen, 

trees will bud,
flowers begin to find their way
into the warm sunshine.

In this time of uncertainty
and lack of physical contact,
let us all remember that
we are connected.
May we look to the sky, the earth,
and to each other.
May we savor moments
with family and friends
in any way that we can.
May we be happy,
may we be safe,
may we feel love
all around and through us.
May we allow our emotions
and take comfort
in predictable patterns
like the changing seasons.
May we be open to experiencing
togetherness
in new and creative ways
as we work our way through

 these tricky and turbulent times.

Sarah Carlson

March 20, 2020

The Peace of the Pines

I share this one with a gentle reminder that some of us, for varied reasons, are going to be socially distancing largely alone. Let's all remember to check in with one another. Let's stay connected, maybe even strengthen connection, as we weather the wild and unpredictable winds that are blowing right now.

May you find the peace of the pines in your own lives during these trying times.

The Peace of the Pines

Setting out into the woods
she slides one foot in front of the other,
finds a tentative rhythm
on the changing surface.
She decides to climb
to the top of the ridge,
 skis a few loops
as anxious tensions release,
replaced by the pleasure of
physical exertion and
self-locomotion.
Reluctant to head back down,
once more she makes her way to the top,
 recognizes a gentle knowing
that’s drawing her there.
Pausing in the familiar stand of pines,
she allows her breath and heart to settle.
She watches and listens
as sun-kissed trees sway
in diverse winds
against the backdrop
of a brilliant blue sky.
In the sights and sounds of winter woods,
understanding slowly comes
as the heaviness of collective sadness
lightens a bit.
She takes a deep breath,
smiles and remembers
 that, as always, Nature knows.
Though each tree stands separate and singular,
their roots hold the ground together.
Isolation and connection
right there in front of her eyes.
Filled with the wisdom of the woods,
 the peace of the pines,
she gratefully, gallantly
 turns toward home.

Sarah Carlson

March 15, 2020

To Our Children:

To Our Children:

We love you.
The questions you have right now
 make sense.
It’s okay to wonder and ask.
As teachers, family, friends
we are answering as best we can.
We understand
 that you want those answers
to be clear and true.
Sometimes we adults
just have to calmly say,
“I’m not sure,
but here’s what we know.”
And even that changes
from day to day.

Remember that there
are things we do know for sure.
The solid earth is still spinning
so that the sun rises
to greet each new day.
Our majestic moon moves
through its predictable
and lovely phases.
Beautiful cloud formations
come and go
as varied winds blow.
So, whenever you feel unsure,
raise your gaze to the sky,
take a breath,
notice the beauty
of the natural world.
Look into the eyes
of someone you love
and just be
in that moment.
Open a book and
let its story unfold.
Grab a pencil
 and let yours do the same.
And, don’t forget.
We adults who are your teachers,
family, and friends –
WE LOVE YOU.

Sarah Carlson

March 14, 2020

Tender Light Softens

Tender Light Softens

 

Frozen layers underfoot

gleam in softened beams

that reach from 

fading sun to 

woodsy trails.

Skiers slow to a stop,

breathe,

 take it all in.

Tranquil tree shadows

stretch in the gentle glow

as dark and light mingle.

In times of sorrow and unease

remember to notice,

honor, welcome

glimmers of brightness

wherever, whenever

they appear.

The act of slowing

allows the opportunity

to treasure the truth

 as tender light 

spreads to the places that need

the warmth of its benevolence

the most.

Inner tensions again unwind

as muscles relax,

cells open,

blood flows.

Though sorrow and unease

are discernible,

tender light softens,

illuminates hope and healing 

as they sink, soothe,

and circulate.

Sarah Carlson

March 4, 2020

My Voice

My Voice

I found it a while ago.
It’s right here on this page,
has proven to be a trusty craft.
I’ve listened to it, honored it,
let it interleave in my healing.
I’ve explored and expressed
inner fronds of dark and light
and everything in between.
And yet sometimes
 when it is the spoken word,
when I say what I feel, think, need,
there’s the possibility of
constriction still.
I wonder,
“Am I complaining,
talking out of turn,
saying anything hurtful or…
wrong?”
My belly begins to ache
and I feel a twitchy energy
that doesn’t resonate with now.
Then I realize that I deserve
 to speak.
I didn’t deserve
 to be stifled -
ever.
My voice is filled
with care, concern, curiosity.
My words are
 sincere, sweet, sonorous.
When I speak and write
I allow light out from within
 and in from Without.
There’s no reason to hold it back.
My voice –
a means of expression
of the magic
of me.

Sarah Carlson

February 20,  2020

Gentle Power of Health

Gentle Power of Health
 

She sits quietly listening,
then ponders, offers, reflects.
With deep empathy
her presence is true.

Embedded in her substance,
it becomes part of her healing
to acknowledge within.

This multi-layered understanding

enlivens a deep achy place
that speaks plainly

 of having witnessed words
used as vehicles of hurt
instead of transporting love.
Caring, listening hearts
were not always available
in her times of need,
but she can speak safely now,
believe in their presence,
take in benevolence
and support.

She knows her tippy-ness 

will remedy

as re-balancing
 takes hold in her now.
She smiles,
 feels the warm,
gentle power of health.
 Compassion for her
own veritable being,
including those places that ache,
wends its way throughout.
Though connection
with others is important, 

 something she still

 often craves,
she enfolds her being,

taking time to care for and about

 her kindhearted self.

Sarah Carlson

February 8, 2020

In and Above

In and Above

There’s health in noticing
an imbalance within,
especially when paired with

a recognition of the solidity
with which one has thrived
in previous precarious predicaments.
There can be a tippy-ness
to inward rearrangement
until one gazes up and out.

Once careful circles above the fray

become more free and easy.
Just as a waxing moon

 can both nestle in
and orbit above
the bare branches of a singular tree,
so can one burrow

and rise.
Gently,
constantly,
palpably
progress occurs
inward and overhead.
Such sweetness
 in pausing to notice
the strength of the shifting,
the grace of the glow,
the power of the potential
 to be
in and above
at the very same time.

Sarah Carlson

February 6, 2020

 

Tender Magic

Tender Magic

Moments 

when the bounty of love
flows free and true,
around and through.
They can peel away layers,
sculpt newness,
allow ease,
provide equilibrium.
What a wondrous sensation
relaxing into
these currents of health
can be.
A pause, a breath,
a time of noticing
what is
right there, right then.
Later,
in times of duress
when pain may come into play,
one can revive
the tender magic
of those moments.
Beautiful blessings
freely available to those
who choose to savor
their soulful significance,
allow them to be an antidote
to whatever may cause distress.

Sarah Carlson

January 26, 2020

The Delicacy of Softening

The Delicacy of Softening

Life lesions leave some parts of us
splintered, spiky, silenced.
As those places awaken,
begin to speak,
we must listen with care
for they have much to teach.
A toughness
may have barricaded them,
formed as necessary protection
from the causes
and effects.
This barrier likely has intricate facets.
As it loosens,
gentleness and kindness
to oneself
is vital.
Inner awareness,
faith in relationship,
belief in one’s validity,
are strong company
for the wonder of revival.
As those once sharp, stiff,
  broken places
mellow and mend
one can appreciate and welcome
the delicacy of softening.

Sarah Carlson

January 16, 2020

So She Moves

Photo by Emma Carlson

So She Moves

Onward.
A step, a stride, a stance,
a push, a pedal, a pause

 at a time.
Relief and renewal
safely nestled within,
solid and secure
she sinks softly
 into her own silky waters,
allowing the light of  Love
to enfold her essence.
She smiles
 with gentle acceptance
for what has been,
open awareness
of what is now,
lighthearted anticipation
and appreciation
for what will be.
Saturated with a billowing
sense of peace,
inner embers aglow
with eclectic energy and
worldly wisdom –
so she moves…
onward
with salient, vibrant, radiant
currents of quiet.

Sarah Carlson

January 7, 2020

True Reflections

Totally True Reflections

As you sit in the stillness,
recognize that you know
how to move forward,
though the way ahead
may be previously unexplored.
You know when to pause and breathe,
soak in the splendor,
contemplate a challenge.
You have the ability to read the winds,
ride the waves,
paddle strong and steady,
adjust the rudder along the way.
You have what you need on board,
including the freedom
to ask for
and receive help.
You are perfectly human
in your own
wonderfully unique way.
And, yet there’s a sameness
in the flow of connection
to others, to nature,
to the Divine.
So, go ahead.
Sit in that stillness.
Let clarity come
in beautiful,
crystal clear,
totally true reflections.
Sit and feel secure
in the solid vessel
that is you.

Sarah Carlson

January 1, 2020