A Pandemic Year

 Shared with gratitude to MaineHealth and the staff of Franklin Memorial Hospital, along with the many others who contributed to the opportunity to receive a COVID-19 vaccine.

A Pandemic Year
Through the Heart of a Teacher

Friday, March 13, 2020.
After a tense week
trying to appease the fears
of fourth grade minds and hearts,
she walks out the door
of her beloved classroom.
Little does she know
that she will never go back
to teaching as she had known it
for 30 years.
There begins a time
of losses and gains,
 unease and sureness,
confusion and certainty,
and everything in between –
sometimes all at once.

Saturday, March 13, 2021.
After a tense few days
 appeasing the fears
of her own mind and heart,
she walks into a door opened
by science and leadership.
Emotions stirring,
she is met by volunteers
smiling behind masks,
gentle support in their eyes.
Joining a smooth flow
of veteran educators
she is ushered into a large room
staffed by compassionate medical workers.
An explanation,
a pause for questions,
a quick jab
that she hardly feels,
a time to sit and make
sure her body accepts
the vaccine.
Taking a relieved and grateful breath,
she walks out another door,
hope and appreciation
filling her heart.

Sarah Carlson
March 14, 2021

Unbounded

Unbounded

The losses and stresses
of my young life
took a seat
way in the back
as I was obscured
by the needs of others.
Still, I know love when I feel it.
The brightness,
the rightness of my light
was surrounded,
almost encapsulated,
by dense, distressing darkness.
Still, it shines.
In my past
when I was hurting
or needing help,
I ran headlong
into a wall of anger and disdain.
Still, I find my way to healing.
I lost so much on a May day in 2002.
There one minute, gone the next.
Still, here I am –
tender, radiant, lively me.
Energetic, fun-loving,
go-out-for-a-ski-
even-though-it’s-13-below-
giggle-at-frozen-eyelashes-
and-frosty-hair me.
I’m right here
learning to relax into
the dawning joy
 of being unbounded.

Sarah Carlson

March 2, 2021

This Light of Mine

 This Light of Mine

Good morning, Me.
I love how you rose up,
larger than life
on the trail ahead
just when I needed you.
 Working through
a detached despair
that sloshes about,
my body was achy and weary.
But, I went skiing anyway,
knowing that
fresh air, forward momentum,
the company of trees
were necessary.
As I was climbing,
so was the sun.
It peeked from behind me,
found an opening,
warmed my back,
allowed me to rise
in front of my self.
A quiet pause,
a gentle breath,
a dawning joy,
 a deeper notion
 that despite the heaviness
of details of the dark,
this light of mine
is good and strong
and so very right.

Sarah Carlson
February 26, 2021

Thank You, Father

 Thank You, Father

I took some runs
 on a favorite trail
that we skied together
so very long ago.
Timberline –
where we can gaze to the Whites,
appreciate our valley,
cruise the ridge line with ease.
I wasn’t expecting you,
but the softness of the sky
seemed to descend,
wrap me in comfort and support
as I carved graceful arcs
in the twinkling snow.
Whispered words of gentle reminder
helped me connect to
ubiquitous love.
My whole body settled
into sensations of hope, ease,
security, and peace.
Thank you, Father.
I needed that so very much.
I will once again suspend
in these moments of
in between,
as a stiff, shadowy unease
slowly and steadily melts,
 eventually evaporates away.
 

Sarah Carlson
February 14, 2021

In the Glistening

The soft, snowy woods on a morning ski...

 In the Glistening 

Crisp air,
fresh snow,
rising sun,
strengthening body.
The power of movement
allows opportunity
 for morning sparkles
to grace this
glorious life.
In the glistening
facets of mourning
reflect and refract
so that healing happens,
 despair dissolves,
spirit settles
just a little bit more.

Sarah Carlson
February 9, 2021

What's True

A hard fought one...

 What’s True

This beautiful valley,
 part of her life
since before she can remember.
This day,
though all appears
still and frozen,
full of movement and memories,
sensations and stories,
feelings and folklore
for her.

An eclectic mix swirls 

around and through.
Heartache, hope,
anguish, adventure,
confusion, clarity 

mingle
as energy within her
gently drifts.
She smiles sadly,
breathes deeply,
allows her being
 to widen once again.
Though deep despair
is definitely present,
she senses currents
of comfort
as more and more
she trusts
what she knows
to be true.

Sarah Carlson
February 8, 2021

The Energy of it All

 The Energy of it All

As the effects of
 bygone impositions
dissolve
bit by bit by bit,
I’m realizing that it’s
the energy of it all
that is shifting now,
has been along the way.
It was a fearsome, frothy mix
that bubbled and oozed,
 spread toxicity
in a stealthy, fluctuating fashion
 around sweet, tender me.
It’s in my power now
 to let the toxicity
stream away.
Whether it cascades, gushes,
seeps, or dribbles
 matters not
because it’s just not mine,
never was.
As it goes
I have the opportunity
 to more deeply experience
 that which is mine.
I can pause,
raise my eyes
to the expansive sky,
feel the warmth
 of the morning sun
around and through my body
as I bask in the
big, bold, brilliant
energy of me.

Sarah Carlson
January 23, 2021

Such Illumination

 

Such Illumination

The steady presence of the moon
has long been a fascination,
its nuances and beauty
there for the beholding
no matter what’s
going on below.
All that is needed is
a clear enough sky
and awareness.

Our beautiful moon carries truth.
The same side always faces us,
and yet the other exists.
It moves through its lovely phases
 with varied amounts of reflected light,
but no matter what we see,
or even if we don’t bother to look,
 it is whole.
Its consistent orbit
provides the basis
for the months of our earthly year.
Its gravity pulls tides,
was probably a factor
in the stabilizing of the earth
so that life here can flourish.
And flourish we should,
even when times are challenging,
troubling, confusing.

The truth of the moon…
such illumination.
A template for
 letting our own light shine,
especially as we feel unsure,
unnoticed, or even unseen.
Because just like the moon,
we are whole,
we matter.

Sarah Carlson
January 14, 2021

Singular

 Singular

Being mostly alone
in a pandemic
allows one to alter
 relationship within.
So many facets
to explore,
            disentangle,
                    rearrange,
            appreciate.
It’s difficult,
can be so very lonely,
make you wonder
if you have been forgotten
especially as day comes to an end,
dark of winter night approaches.
Wonders and worries sometimes swirl,
unanswered questions and
past confusions surface.
Yet, thoughts can be shifted
to brighter times
when there was a distinct
 sense of belonging.
Feelings honored,
healing rekindled so that
tensions trickle away  
with a sigh, a breath,
a settling
into the comfort
 of one’s beautiful,
singular
self.

Sarah Carlson
January 6, 2020

Newness

Newness

No longer a newborn,
still he can curl up
and sleep soundly on my chest.
Every so often he stretches,
burrows his face,
makes those adorable sounds
that only babies can make.
How sweet it is to hold him close,
feel his full-on trust and love.
When I sit with him
I often think of you.
How you and I soaked in
similar moments with our babies,
both.
How much you would have
loved holding him, too.
Sometimes in quiet moments,
with him in my arms,
gentle tears come.
I miss you in novel ways,
though it has been so long
since I’ve felt your arms
around me.
The underlying emotions also
include a very large dose of joy.
So tonight, on yet another
New Year’s Eve without you,
I honor the varied feelings
that ebb and flow
throughout my being.
 I take a breath
and smile with thoughts
of our precious little grandson,
our wonderful daughter,
a mother.

Sarah Carlson
December 31, 2020

The Vast Reaches of You

 The Vast Reaches of You

Engage in healing.
Lean into the truth
that surrounds,
permeates,
radiates.
Suspend in an expansive,
lively sea of love
as you disengage from the effects
of times and spaces
that were devoid of light.
Disempower them.
Let their tensions
loosen and release.
Rest in quiet currents
that support you gently
as you mend.
Allow your pieces
to rearrange as they will.
Let go the need
to direct.
Feel the fullness of your vigor,
the gleaming nature of you –
no longer dimmed
by impositions
that were not,
are not,
never should have been
yours.
Honor all you have learned
from that which was dark
and the related shades of gray.
Look to the sky as
you feel your Health widen
more and more and more.
Stretch surely and steadily
 into the vast reaches of you.

Sarah Carlson
December 24, 2020

Solstice in the Wings

 Solstice in the Wings

I feel the presence of your love,
though your absence
can be very large still.
Perhaps it’s the many
challenges and changes
I’ve had to process
in the past several months
that has me missing you anew.
I walk to our river,
fill with memories
of the four of us
frolicking there
in every season.
A gentle combination
of sadness and hope
swirls and settles
as I realize
they have been
consistent companions
since your death,
hope usually the stronger
of the two.
As I return home,
I raise my eyes
 to a crescent moon
cradled by branches
of a tree we planted together
when we first moved in.
Waxing and setting in the gloaming
with the Solstice in the wings.
Well, there it is…
Hope, Love,
and the promise of Light
 win the day,
even in the uncertainty and isolation
of a global pandemic.

Sarah Carlson
December 18, 2020

Slow Motion

 Slow Motion

Fissures, formed long ago,
crack more deeply
by forces of nature and
perhaps a
concussive blow.
Jagged pieces break loose,
tumble downward,
drop into streaming waters
that rise and fall
again and again.
The undeniable energy
of whitewater wildness
provides movement
and transformation.
Gentle waters allow for respite
and recovery
with varied escapades
along the way.
This trajectory is both universal
and unique
as wounding, weathering,
wellness flow.
And,
like sand on a sunny beach,
sometimes you just need
to sit for a bit,
allow for light to
             surround,
                        reflect,
                                        emanate.
Feel inherent Divinity
in the stillness,
let motion come
as it may.

Sarah Carlson
December 14, 2020

In the Waning

 In the Waning

I awaken.
A soft blue sky
beckons
and I step out
 into the clear, crisp air.
I breathe,
feel my self realign
and rebalance yet again.
There is an emptiness,
but it’s not fully hollow.
In fact,
there’s promise there.
I gaze to the horizon,
 then higher.
The waning moon,
on its way to set,
is tickled by
bare branches
of sleepy treetops
bathed in the widening
morning light.
Ah, there it is…
in the waning,
there is widening
with plenty of light present
 and in phases to come.
They will be as they are
and I can be
as I am.
Thank you Moon.
Thank you Sun.
I understand.

Sarah Carlson
December 4, 2020

Short Reading from In the Currents of Quiet

 Looking for new ways to promote my newest book, In the Currents of Quiet.

Available at the following bookstores:

Twice Sold Tales and

Devaney Doak and Garrett Booksellers in Farmington, ME

Oliver and Friends in Belgrade, ME

Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick, ME

Sherman's Maine Coast Book Shops in Freeport, Bar Harbor, Damariscotta, Portland, and Boothbay Harbor, ME

Books, Lines and Thinkers in Rangeley, ME

White Birch Books in North Conway, NH

 

For online orders click the book to the right.

Years and Years of Tears

 

Years and Years of Tears

And so they come
from deep down in my depths.
I know it’s healthy
to allow them to flow,
though some of them
have powerful currents
of anger
and I feel a bit afraid
of their fierceness.
I’m home alone,
though I believe
that the Divine is here
and there
and everywhere.
Trusting in the
pure benevolence
of that connection
 is still fairly new,
especially in moments
of releasing indignation.
But the time is right,
 conditions oddly favorable,
for years and years of tears
to overflow my tender heart.
And so I will do my best
to allow them without fear.
Anticipating the cleansing,
even now I look
for the light that I know
will eventually show.
I can feel my healing,
but this is hard …
and right now
 it hurts.

Sarah Carlson
November 25, 2020

 

Upheld

Adding the photo that inspired the poem

 

This poem surfaced several days ago. I've been sitting with it and the more I do, the more I feel its many meanings, its power and love. It was inspired by one thing, but taps so very much. 

I usually post my poems with the picture that inspires them or that I later realize is connected to their meaning. But this one just has so many connections. And, this morning I realized I needed it to be out in my home space. So, here's a pic of the one I wrote for me.

I'm so grateful to have had a loving husband and to have raised two amazing children with him. I'm grateful for how I somehow found his death a catalyst to explore my inner workings.   

And so this Thanksgiving day I share this piece along with some of the many things I am thankful for - my being, my healing, my family and friends, my students, my home, my gifts and the courage to share. 

Here it is... with love.

Upheld

Your wholesome body curls
against my chest,
warms my heart with memories
of nurturing and loving and
mothering.
This time of holding,
beginning to know you,
is fresh, clear,
has no tangles.
It contains a pleasant,
fizzy energy of
            transition,
                    connection,
                                unbridled love.
As if your heart and mine
meld together,
though our uniqueness is
distinct and true.
You, so tiny and pristine.
Me, more weathered
 with freshness of my own.
This mingled newness
liberates feelings that are
 almost beyond words.
I am upheld
                as I uphold.
And it’s beautiful.

Sarah Carlson
November 17, 2020

Even a Little Bit of Light

 Even a Little Bit of Light

Some of us have a hefty share
of trying times.
For the most part,
there’s no real
 rhyme or reason
to that.
It just is as it is.
Loss and times of grief
are simply part of being human.
And, when you live and love deeply,
there are just so very many feels
betwixt and between.
As I’ve worked my way in
and around and through the
effects of my own dark times,
I can recognize
that I have this amazing way
of finding the good,
orienting to hope,
 eventually finding
even a little bit of light
no matter how dark
it may be.
I feel so very grateful
that I know this
about me.
It’s an essential
part of my inner embers
that I need to kindle
right now.
I can do that for me.

Sarah Carlson
November 23, 2020

Widen

Widen

She looks closely,
so closely,
trying to find her way in,
                                            out,
                                    around,
                        and through.
When she loses her bearings,
feels adrift,
she knows the importance
of remembering
to raise her gaze
to the horizon,
let her vision
 be less and less
skewed by the lenses
of those who would
 not fully see.
Eventually her eyes refocus,
currents shift,
heart opens even more.
The buzzing energy
of imposed tension
dwindles
 as the fuzzy warmth
of boundless love
widens.
Her shoulders straighten,
breath comes easily,
gaze drifts ever higher.
Eyes to the sky,
she smiles and
widens, too.

Sarah Carlson
November 21, 2020

The Adventure of Being Human

 The Adventure of Being Human

Mountains, though ever changing,
stand strong in the distance –
their peaks and slopes
repositories for cherished memories
 and the promise of future escapades.
A soft evening sky
reflects in seemingly quiet waters,
causes us to, as well.
Peaceful beauty
simply
there for us to behold
together,
though well we know
the movement of fathoms,
each with our own deeps
that can stir and swirl.
Moments such as these
along the shore of a silver lake
help us once again understand
the validity and substance
of the spectrum
from sorrow to joy,
despair to love,
grief to faith
in shared Divinity.
All of these and the
 in betweens,
integral elements
in the adventure
of being human.

Sarah Carlson

November 11, 2020

My Brother's Stone

 My Brother’s Stone

In this place where
five generations rest,
our parents’ newly set stones
 right by yours more weathered,
I sit and sigh and cry.
They are mine,
these tears,
though I cry for them,
 for you,
for what just could not be.
As time goes by, though,
they alter and lighten,
as though compassion
overflows my heart,
wraps me in
my own tenderness.
I raise my gaze
to the leaves of autumn
that sparkle
against a brilliant blue sky.
My shoulders relax,
heart settles,
spirit widens once again.
I rise from this perch
on my brother’s stone,
move forward into my life,
carrying with me the love
we share
with less and less
 despair.

Sarah Carlson
October 15, 2020

Peace in the Pieces

 

Peace in the Pieces

Healing takes time
    patience,
        courage,
            support,
                 trust.
It is both easy and difficult,
pleasurable and painful,
simple and complex,
quick and slow.
Most importantly,
healing is truly revealing.

Like a multi-layered blossom
that has been ready and waiting
for a moment that is right,
when petals can open, stretch,
reach for the sun
without constraint.
Each one beautiful on its own,
even those with blemishes
or damage of any kind.
They all bond together
to create a truly miraculous whole.
This sense of opening leads to
appreciation for one’s own bedrock
though fissures and detritus
 are present.
Rooted,
like that blossom,
one can open, stretch,
breathe,
 gaze to reflective waters
rippled by soft winds in the
waning colors of dusk
and smile at the discovery
of peace
in the pieces…
each and every one of them
that make a body whole.

Sarah Carlson
October 9, 2020

Deep Simplicity

Deep Simplicity

All the way in,
you are there,
have always been.
I join you along the shores
of our serene lake.
We sit together as one,
realigning in full and novel ways
as ravels release once again.
I settle into our
comfortable connection,
feel the sturdiness of my craft.
 That which once held fast,
gripped hard,
            pulled tightly
                                tenderly ripples away
                                        in currents of quiet.
I breathe
                 and stretch
                    and fill.
    I drift
                         without care
                                or concern.
I feel a happy glow
                 as I recognize the
                            deep simplicity of
                                         resting in the love
                                            that is you,
                                                            that is me.

Sarah Carlson

September 23, 2020

Spread Your Light

 

Spread Your Light


You are amazing.
You stand
splendid and strong,
rooted and reliable,
majestic and magical.
You weather so much,
shed layers when necessary,
let debris tumble or slide away
and land where it may.
Sometimes storms ravage,
other times rains gently cleanse.
You are simply in
whatever is.
Best of all,
you quietly allow light
to enfold your nooks and crannies,
embrace every part of your
uniqueness.
At the very same time,
you spread your light,
the beauty of you,
 to all who take time
 to behold
and reflect.
A stately, steady reminder
 to allow the light in,
let the light out,
enjoy moments when
 the circuit
is complete.

Sarah Carlson

September 11, 2020

A Subtle Shift

 Though I don't know what it's like to be in a pandemic with someone at my side, I think it's important to recognize how tiring and stressful it can be to do it mostly alone. For me, it's the recognition of moments like the ones below that make a difference in being able to continue to find my way through this odd time. Thank you to anyone who finds their way here for a look and a listen. And - if you know people who do live alone, don't hesitate to just give a call and hang out for a bit...:)

A Subtle Shift

With deep, clear breaths
there’s the potential to slide into
a slightly different tempo.
A subtle shift
that can feel so very good.
Like pedaling up a steep incline,
reaching a tableland,
slipping into that just-right gear
for cruising with easy freedom.
Or walking on a sunny beach
accompanied by ocean rhythms,
salty breezes,
playful shadow,
whole body smile
on board.
Or playing with words on a page
as a means to reflect,
transmute
wounds to wellness
concussive jolts to life lessons,
trauma to benefit.
Deep breaths
again and again and again
whenever, wherever there is a need.
Reminders to appreciate
the pauses that present,
gratefully gather
the pleasure of such moments that,
even in the tension
of experiencing a pandemic
largely solo,
are there for one
to behold.
 

Sarah Carlson

August 28, 2020

Ocean Dance

Ocean Dance

Feet sink into soft sand
 partnered with a sense of solidity.
Slowly she scans the ocean,
allows her body to suspend
in its salty embrace.
Every part of her held,
  awareness wide,
she is at once
 here, there,
 everywhere.
She surveys the surface
more closely,
watches the interplay
 of wind and waves and light,
gently adjusts
to the cadence of immersion.
At times she ducks her head,
dives into the cresting whiteness.
At others she turns her back,
braces for impact,
embodies her innate strength and wisdom.
During the in-betweens
she relaxes ever more deeply into grace,
enjoys the absence of fear.
Soaking in the Divinity of it all,
she turns herself over to
the healing power
of this salty dance,
frolics with a fresh, vibrant
awareness of inclusion.
 

Sarah Carlson

August 26, 2020

Thank You ...

Thank You…

Hummingbird hovers by my kitchen window
as I attend to multi-faceted details
of my mother’s estate.
I smile, unease settles
with remembering how she loved to
feed the birds in Waterville, at Sugarloaf,
 by the lake.
Thank you, Mom.
Dragonfly lands next to my hand
as I rest by a rock
 during a morning swim,
Memories stir of learning to row, sail,
navigate Great Pond
from my father,
dragonflies our welcome companions.
Thank you, Dad.
Morning breeze wafts through a window,
caresses my face
in moments of healing.
The same room where I noticed the breeze
and listened to the contented breath
of my soulmate
that last morning so long ago.
Thank you, Barry.
Sureness strengthens as I walk away
from my childhood home
without any need to look back.
I can hear my brother’s words,
“It’s not yours to carry, Sarah.
It’s okay.
 Let go.”
Thank you, Geof.
Serendipitous winged one
visits near my deck.
I’m distracted, but Hawk makes sure
that I look up,
appreciate such moments
as I more and more let go fears
that were not, are not mine.
It is safe and good and right
to feel the fullness of me,
the divine nature of breath.
Thank you, Hawk.
Thank you…

Sarah Carlson

August 21, 2020

The Closing, The Opening

 

This is a gift from a kindhearted, sensitive, deep thinking student of a few years back. It's one that I cherish and that helped me in processing what I write about below. I again write with deep empathy for all who are in the field of education right now and with gratitude that I could step out, take a pause.

 

The Closing, The Opening

The best teachers teach from the heart.
I know that to be true and now,
as I adjust to retirement,
I can more clearly
honor that within myself.
Not only did I teach from there,
I live from there, too.
Most teachers I know do.
We are not just bodies in a room,
though it seems, especially now,
that can be how we are treated, thought of.
Yesterday I closed on the sale
of my childhood home.
After the closing I went to order
a headstone for my mom
that will match the Veteran’s stone
that my dad wanted for his grave.
The love of a daughter,
of this human,
was front and center all day long.
And that love, included me.
When I returned to my own home,
my place of refuge,
I was greeted with
what felt like a coldhearted letter
from the school district
where I have worked for over 30 years.
It informed me that my retirement letter,
written with care several weeks ago,
had been received,
with reminders to make sure
I turn in any school property
(which I already had),
and that my school email
will be deactivated so I should
‘plan accordingly’.
I will admit that I had
 fleeting moments of sadness,
which were gently replaced by
 gratitude for my ability to teach,
recognition of my giving and receiving,
peace with my decision.
The closing of a home,
the closing of a career,
the opening of possibilities,
to places and spaces where I will not be
just a body in a room.
Thank you, Sarah,
for teaching from your heart.
 

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2020

 

Pause

 

I feel so grateful to be in a place, at a time in my life where I can choose to step back and away from the world of education. But, it's not at all an easy thing to do for one who truly loves to teach. One of the things that has crystallized for me is how very empathetic I am by nature. I'm feeling so much for all those I do know, all those I don't, who are struggling with what is happening in and about schools right now. 

For me, experiencing remote learning largely solo was tough... and exciting. It was a time when it seemed like education could change. A time when we could have reevaluated, re-imagined, reworked. Through those difficult days ran threads of hope and promise. Amazing things happened that could have been celebrated and woven into how to move ahead. And, perhaps that will still happen. I tend to be one who hangs on to hope. But, it feels to me as if it's more that educators are being asked to revert to all that was and try to make this totally new and extremely challenging situation fit into the structures that were. It is so very troubling that opportunities are being lost due to that having to try and fit. This is not meant to cast blame. I just feel the need to put voice to what it has been like to be in the trenches from one who just climbed out.

A month or so into it all, my mother died. My story is just one among many of educators who dealt with personal challenges while finding new and creative ways to stay connected or reconnect with our students. That should be celebrated, too.

I wish the world of education could have reaped the benefits of the powerful pause that was thrust upon us. And right now, I just needed to write this as a reminder... to allow comfort with the pause that I chose for my self.

 

Pause 

 

Smooth waters slide
softly along her body
as a morning swim
revitalizes her being.
Genial clouds roll across familiar hills,
reflect in the pristine lake
that holds her body afloat.
She welcomes the enlivening
brought about by
physical momentum
in such a beautiful place.
At the very same time
she notices an underlying fatigue
that wends its way in

without clear patterns.
A sort of fuzziness
within which she can’t seem
to find clarity.
She takes a breath,
settles in once again
to the in-between.
Ah, there it is –
the suspension,
the pause.
Right there, right then
she gets it.
She doesn’t have to know
why or when or how or what.
She can miss their presence,

  feel whatever goes along with that.
She can honor her own courage
and tenacity and accomplishment.
She can allow guilt
 and wrongness and doubt
to let go.
She can and should simply,
at least for now,
 let the pause be.

Sarah Carlson

August 11, 2020

In the Depths of You

I took this picture on July 1, 2020. I remember that because it was the day after what would have been my 41st wedding anniversary. It was also the day after my childhood home was listed for sale.

Taken during a morning swim when the sky opened up, I remember that I got the giggles because the up-drops tickled my nose. I also felt a sense of connection, which I often get when I'm near or in water. Delight, peace, oneness, and gratitude all at once.

Later that day I crashed on that slippery bridge while mountain biking and, though definitely improving, I'm still recovering. I think back to that day often as it contained so much and, truly, the time on the bridge and all I've learned from it has been life changing... including making the very difficult decision to retire from teaching.

I heard two important ideas this week as part of my healing. One came from my osteopath and the other from my spiritual director. They are the idea of inherent Divinity and the fact that some of my early childhood experiences, especially in church, were like concussions to my soul. And, my recent concussion is teaching me that it truly does take time to heal and that rest is important. I'm so used to forging ahead. Though I'm still adjusting, it does feel good to have the time to rest.

This piece is from me to me. Good ol' Coach Carlson kicking in. But, maybe readers will find their own coaching within the message.

In the Depths of You

You’re no stranger to grief.
Widowed at 45,
you’ve slowly adjusted to that shock
 with both grit and grace.
Maybe you wish you’d done a few things differently
after he died,
but that’s because you now have the wisdom
that comes with being 63
and from exploring your inner landscape,
courage, vigor, hope
ever present.
You thought you had mourned the loss
of your only brother so very long ago
and your father after that.
You understand the reasons
why there’s more to do
because now you’ve lost
your intrepid, complex mother, too.
And you’ve cleaned out the house
where so very much happened,
found evidence of joys and sorrows,
confusion and clarity,
separateness and connection
from each phase of your childhood.
And then, of course,
there’s the fact that you reluctantly
retired from a vocation that you love,
one that kept you grounded
through so very much.
So when they come,
those tears that burble and trickle,
or rush and gush,
or take your breath away
 just before they erupt
from your depths,
it’s okay.
Sit with them,
learn from them,
let them soothe and soften
as body and soul revive.
There’s nothing wrong
in admitting to fatigue.
Allow yourself to rest, renew, mend.
You will keep finding what fits your now
as you continue to twist the lens,

recognize and embrace
the Divinity that also resides
in the depths of you.

Sarah Carlson

August 2, 2020