The Way Ahead

Saddleback Lake from the Grey Ghost Trail - Sandy River Plantation, Maine

The Way Ahead

Our stories intersect.
We criss-cross each other
as we meet, greet, be.
Some stories entwine us
more than others,
like the story of true, deep, shared love.
The soulmate kind.
A sturdy anchor that can
keep a vessel secure
despite varied pulls.
When, for whatever reason,
the physical container of that love leaves,
there’s a scary sensation
of being adrift
and vulnerable.
It’s easy to hold on to
that which actually constricts,
promotes tension within.
Part of healing from the angst
and emptiness
of being on that drifty ship,
involves learning how and when
to let go.
There can be a sense of others
having power over you,
when in truth they don’t.
You might feel beholden,
responsible,
or simply wrong
at times when you are
stretching into your newness.
What a profound, liberating
 moment when
you realize
that you can let go,
even of that.
When you do,
the way ahead becomes
even more hopeful, open,
and true.

Sarah Carlson

August 28, 2018

Sun Shimmers and Rain Plops

Parker Pond, Maine

You'll have to look closely at the picture above. These moments didn't last long.

Sun Shimmers and Rain Plops

Blue-gray sky speckled with fair weather clouds.
Just enough wind to make evergreens waltz,
waves lap against my granite perch,
sunlight glitter upon their varied faces.
I settle in to read for a bit,
about indigenous wisdom and
the illusion of separation.
In need of some time
to ponder the message
I set my book aside and,
from seemingly nowhere,
a gentle, spotty rain begins to fall.
For just a few moments
sun shimmers and rain plops
dance on the water’s surface,
 together as one.
Circles within circles
bobbing, expanding, flowing
on the twinkling, reflective sheen.
Grateful and content,
I smile at nature’s
timely illustration.

Sarah Carlson

August 26, 2018

Ancestral Angst

Popham Beach State Park, Maine

This one is connected to an earlier poem called Ancestral Darkness - page 133 of The Radiance of Change and in the blog archive from October of 2015.

Ancestral Angst

Some of the energy from ancestral angst
somehow settled within.
Part of my lineage
with a distinct rigidity
that I’ve lugged
for a long while.
As I heal the strands often loosen,
discharging tension.
It’s as if there’s a conduit 
to sorrows of the past
to which I am linked,
but with current that is lessening.
Because these bonds are so old
there can be a bit of a skirmish
as they let go,
I let go.
Sometimes I think I should apologize,
which in moments of release
makes no sense at all.
Perhaps I am sorry because I care,
but now know that the issues
of my forebears were theirs,
not mine.
Maybe I’m just sorry because 

distress was such a large
piece of the puzzle
as I remember it,
took it in.
I’m not sorry that I recognized
my need for liberation.
As more and more unloads,
washes away,
I access greater appreciation for
the goodness of the grains
that also form my foundation,
and theirs.
I’m sure they didn’t mean to
cause family fracture.
I’ll never fully understand
all that was broken,
but I do know that
none of it was my fault.
 Though I still meander back,
I am acutely aware that
whatever happened is over.
I can flow forward with relief
at being
less and less connected
to ancestral angst.

Sarah Carlson

August 18, 2018

Two Briny Beings

Popham Beach State Park, Maine

This poem connects to and earlier piece titled Cross-Currents. It can be found on page 155 of The Radiance of Change and in the blog archive of September, 2016.

Two Briny Beings

Standing strong
in soft sand,
my tender feet
sink just a bit.
Ocean waves come from
 multiple directions,
wash around my legs.
I am mesmerized by the moment,
though right then I don’t quite know why.
I just knew I needed to be
right there, right then.
I can still feel the sensations of
sand caressing my feet,
water enveloping my skin.
Two briny beings
in a tidal dance
 of wholeness.
I didn’t have to understand fully
the reasons for my desire to
be in that spot,
just knew to follow the guidance
from whence it came.
No tension, no worry,
no remorse.
That sublime sensation
of letting go,
letting flow
in action once again
around me,
for me,
 within me.

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2018

Cloud Bath

Saddleback Mountain in Rangeley, Maine

Lately I've had poems from the past come to mind as I write new ones. The following poem is closely linked to one titled One Foot in Front of the Other from 2006. It is on page 12 of The Radiance of Change and is also in the blog archive from November of 2010.

Cloud Bath

To the top of a favorite mountain
at the invitation of new friends.
Yet again,
I put one foot in front of the other
and make my way.
More sure footed this time,
with far less tension in my body,
very little ache in my heart.
To the summit we stretch,
and beyond.
On a rocky prominence we perch,
in awe of the lovely view.
In the distance
other mountains visited,
lakes enjoyed,
roads biked.
This busy body content
to simply sit, breathe, be.
Varied clouds
flow with summery breezes,
natural cinema playing
before our eyes.
Some vapors settle
 in the basin behind,
begin to sweep up the back slope.
Hugging the col,
they roll over the ridge,
descend the front slope
before they lift,
rise up as if in jubilation
at their freedom.
We humans immerse
in a cloud bath
with a smooth, gentle power.
Honored to be right there
in those moments,
I welcome the chance
for quiet cleansing and
soothing rejuvenation.

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2018

There Again

There Again

We went there again.
To the old gray camp that is so close, 

yet so far, from home.
I know you were unsure about going.

I don’t blame you.
But you trusted,
allowed in the safety of now.
I felt your tenseness as we entered the kitchen

through the creaky screen door.
But you started to relax
 as we reached the living room,

sensing the difference
in the atmosphere of the place.
You checked every nook and cranny

with your eyes and your heart,
especially the open porch
with lake breezes wafting around and through.
You so badly wanted the changes
to be real, to be true.
As you turned and walked toward the pantry
 you stopped in your tracks,
taking it in anew.
It was altered
in both appearance and energy,

all traces of alcohol gone,

along with associated tension and angst.

Really, truly no longer there.
I felt your tender essence

infuse with hope, faith, delight –
your face aglow, your eyes a-twinkle,
your body at ease.
Yes, we went there again.
To that place of sadness,
misunderstanding,
and generational suffering.
It took some doing,
but we were solid and sure,
happy in our health,
able to fully accept the veracity of what is,
allow the ferocity of musty memories to wane.
Those dark days are done,
no longer need to produce pain.
Later, sitting by the lake,
watching the clouds drift above
and the loons swim by,
residual wariness and worry slid away,
 replaced with love
and gratitude for having gone
there again.

Sarah Carlson

August 8, 2018

Truth

Parker Ridge Trail, Tumbledown Mountain - photo by Katharina Burdet

Truth

Hear me, little one.
Trust me when I say you are safe,
we are safe.
We’ve worked hard
to uncover and explore,
wonder and weep,
receive and recover.
We, together, are me
and it’s time to fully align to the truth.
The continual sense of goodness
that has kept me company,
even in the hardest of times,
is real.
The core of strength
that has fortified my being
all along the way
is sure.
The ability to write,
illuminating healing and hope,
is beautiful and right to share.
The curative experiences
of body, mind, and spirit
can and should
 be welcomed and absorbed.
On solid ground,
beneath a benign sky,
serenaded by flowing waters
I stand full, robust, and ready.
I can take deep restorative breaths,
open wide to the beauty
both before me and within me.
Though there may be occasional stirs
as I assimilate and adjust,
the truth is
I am safe
to freely, fully,
firmly
be me.

Sarah Carlson

August 6, 2018

Sweet, Soft Memories

Sweet, Soft Memories

Up and over Dallas Hill,
along the ridge,
is the little red house we called home
when our first baby was born.
Down the other side,
on the shore of Saddleback Lake,
is where our love first emerged.
I visited this special part
of our world,
 and as I explored
the pain of loss was very gentle.
Instead I was filled
with sweet, soft memories
of tennis matches, moonlight hikes
bike rides to the movies,
horseback adventures -
me on Buck, you on Fire,
as we opened our hearts
to each other.
Before I headed down the road
to return to the home we shared
as our children grew,
I gazed out over the lake.
And again delightful memories
swirled all through.
Paddling, sailing, swimming,
skiing on the frozen surface.
I will always miss your physical presence,
but these memories are
 such a tender balm to my being
as I harbor them
 in my healing heart.
I’m so grateful for
sweet, soft memories
of you and me
together.

Sarah Carlson

July 29, 2018

Liberty

Liberty

Suspended in salty goodness
she lays back and relaxes.
Gazing upward she marvels
at the blueness of the sky,
glowing warmth of the sun,
soft clouds flowing gently by.
She breathes in the fresh, warm air
allowing her lungs to fill as they will.
All is in motion and yet
there is nothing that needs doing,
not right at that moment anyway.
Her mind wanders and she remembers
swimming as a child
when her nickname was ‘Fish’.
She smiles as she thinks back to
that lovely little girl
so comfortable under the water
as she frolicked in the waves.
A quiet frown comes as she feels
residual fear stir,
but then there’s a release
as she realizes they are free from all that.
Just as the tides disperse detritus,
so can all that go.
And just as the richness of the
expansive ocean fills back in,
so can she allow the bounty to come.
Another deep breath
as she feels vitality, peace, and love.
The tides flow, come and go,
in freedom.
More and more she feels safe to enfold
the liberty
of her own tides

within.

Sarah Carlson

July 24, 2018

One Degree

Sunset over Lake Champlain in Isle La Motte, VT.

I recently returned from an Appalachian Mountain Club biking vacation on the northern islands of Lake Champlain. Before I left I had my bicycle checked over at our wonderful local bike shop, Northern Lights Heart and Sports. Just before I put my bike in the car Todd, one of the owners, tweaked the angle of my seat. He smiled and said, "It was just a bit off, maybe 1 degree. But that can make a difference." As I pedaled on the beautiful Lake Champlain Bikeway on the first day I suddenly realized that I felt better on my bike. I hadn't really felt bad before, but that little adjustment did make a difference. I've been pondering that, and other things, over the past week or so. And that led to this poem.

One Degree

I’ve spent some time twisting my lens
over the years,
 have become quite adept at it.
At this point turning it as little as
one degree provides
a gentle sense of clarity and relief
that is both rightful and welcome.
Simple, quiet moments
 when what was just barely out of focus
becomes crystal clear,
melds into healing.
This is like being bathed
in a subtle, calm lightness
that both buoys and cleanses.
Or it can be a spreading sense
of fortitude that has long been there,
but feels more apparent and credible.
I often don’t even know that I’m adjusting,
but recognize the blips of awareness.
Like when the sun is at a perfect angle,
so muted shadows stretch into
a summer twilight sky
as soft clouds billow,
and you happen to gaze upwards
at just the right time.
Sweet sensations of
wonder and awe ascend,
the moment both fleeting
and timeless.
Safety and serenity reside
within and without,
and all is well.

Sarah Carlson

July 23, 2018

Time to Recharge

Time to Recharge

Having discharged both things I can define
and things I cannot,
I feel a distinctly different energy.
Some unwanted thought patterns still nibble,
but I find what I need in order
to lighten these minor wonderings.
It may simply be speaking them aloud
to someone I trust.
Or it might be enough to take a pause,
breathe, alter the flow.
Other times I simply must write,
let metaphoric experiences
come alive on paper before my eyes.
The letting go is both from me
and to me.
As this shift in energy suffuses,
I believe the places that have emptied
will fill with what I need
and a sense of safety will
mingle and merge
as I recharge.
I think I must be patient,
allow this to happen in its own time.
As it does I sometimes feel happiness spread.
Like a moment at a concert,
with music of days gone by emanating throughout,
noticing that my face feels strange
and realizing it is because I
had been smiling for quite some time.
Or looking down in awe at the shadow
of my bike wheel,
seeing all parts working in tandem,
 powered by me.
I know I’ve shown great
strength and courage along the way.
This is about opening wide to Universal Love,
letting the recharge happen as it will.
No threat, no shame, no reason to hide.
Simply time to recharge.

Sarah Carlson

July 10, 2018

Right Here

View from the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health

I spent the fourth of July at Kripalu with friends, after which we went to see James Taylor at Tanglewood. It was a truly magical day. While at Kripalu I had a break between activities so I paused and took some breaths. As I gazed out over the lake and mountains I had some wonderful moments of reflection. There I was, 2 years after having attended a writing program with Heather Sellers. Right there in that very same spot where I had set the goal of sorting through my poetry and publishing. But, there was a very big difference. I had my book in my hands. This poem was largely written in those moments.

Right Here

Back again –
in the same place, yet not.
Previous insecurities release,
enabling the dropping in
to widen, become more full.
My tapestry of
images and words,
reflecting the radiance of
so many changes,
continues.
 Hopes,
once felt to be distant,
gently and continually unfold,
reach fruition.
Impediments still occur,
though they are malleable,
less menacing,
easier to transform to truth.
As I sit and settle,
enfold my vitality,
more and more I appreciate
my singular self.
Having felt unheard,
 unseen, unsure
in my past,
I hold tangible evidence
and begin to rest easy.
All which has come
 from going in
is real, valid and right.
I hear, I see,
and I am becoming
more sure.
Those who feel inclined will
listen, notice, acknowledge
and I shall do the same.
I am right here,
gratefully and gracefully
being me.

Sarah Carlson

July 4, 2018

Waves of Fear

Waves of Fear

I don’t really identify with being a fearful person,
and yet I’m feeling waves of fear.
There’s a craving within
to realize that I’m safe.
I’m so very ready for these
waves to fully wash away.
I’m sitting here in my sweet little home,
cradled in memories
of sharing love and life with my soulmate,
 holding and raising our sweet babies,
 finding my way to becoming a teacher.
I can recognize that the body-wracking cries of yesterday
 have mostly subsided,
but still feel unheralded emotions stirring
 as muscles softly twitch, milder tears trickle,
breath seems shallow.
Like the rain cascading outside these windows,
the gentle breeze that blows,
I guess it just needs to happen.
I don’t have to run and hide,
or feel threatened.
I still feel the wish to be held or
at least to hear someone say the words,
“You’re okay, Sarah.
It’s right to let the those waves of fear
roll out and away.
It’s true, you’re safe.”
I’m hopeful this desire
will fade away over time,
or that I will be able to
comfort that tender spot within
for my self.
I don’t think I care anymore
to know exactly
where they originate,
 I’m just trying to believe
 that waves of fear
 simply do not have a place
 in my life anymore.

Sarah Carlson

June 28, 2018

Darkening Before the Light

Darkening Before the Light

The whole story
needs to be told.
Before the lightening,
perhaps simultaneous to it being born,
there was/is a sort of darkening.
Tears seep and surge,
seeming to surface
 from every part of the body.
Reminiscent of a full on baby cry
when the only remedy is to be
cuddled, comforted,
with tears accepted, not judged.
Experienced as an adult,
 this is accompanied
by multi-faceted grief.
Safe and right to feel,
the eventual effects
are the soothing of a tender heart,
the settling of a puzzled mind,
the mending of a wounded spirit.
A darkening before the light
that has the power to
heal the deep, dark places
that simply must be honored.
It’s the truth, the full narrative,
 that leads to
a shift from threat to trust,
providing the opportunity
to genuinely lighten up.

Sarah Carlson

June 27, 2018

Lighten Up

Lighten Up

Eyes, heart,
mind, cells
open wider and wider.
Flexible, changing
frontier becomes
 more and more 
true and trustworthy.
Sinking and settling
into a precious body,
beautiful just as it is
in the here and now.
Antiquated perceptions
that one must strive to receive love,
must somehow earn the right to heal
release, steadily melt away.
Moments of, “OH!”, blips of freedom
expand and saturate.
Sensations of revival
that feel right and good,
but will take time
 to more fully incorporate.
Intrepid, courageous exploration
has paved the way
to understand that the pressure to ‘earn’
came from a deep and barricaded place.
But the freedom, the lightening,
comes from an even deeper,
more expansive
place of knowing –
where the light shines through,
always has.
It most definitely is time to
allow the canards to crumble,
honor the hues of healing,
and lovingly
lighten up.

Sarah Carlson

June 26, 2018

Lonely, Yet Not

Lonely, Yet Not

I am supposed to feel loneliness right now.
I know this because within this feeling
I am more profoundly discovering me,
my veritable, essential self.
The one who has been there all along,
but had to struggle to exist within
confusing, imposed falseness.
She is lovely and strong,
caring and humble,
creative and intelligent,
graceful and giving.
I love her
and know she is
not really alone.
Tears are flowing from
deep in my soul.
I don’t necessarily have words
to accompany them,
but they do need to flow.
So I let them
and, in tandem,
feel the elation
of settling into the exquisite
recesses of my being.
I am solo right now
with summer here and
no students who need me,
offspring grown
with lives of their own,
soulmate’s physical presence gone.
It’s okay,
I need this.
I’ve worked hard
to land here
in this very spot.
It’s a bit stormy
but I’ve got it.
I’m lonely,
yet not.

Sarah Carlson

June 24, 2018

Full Light

Flowers given to me by one of my fourth graders

Full Light

Sunbeams reach and stretch,

 envelop all beings below,
warm and enlighten
those who choose to notice

and let it all in,
let it all out.
Darker days, mere memories
of the cold winter season,
have beauty and substance
all their own.
Day by day the light has grown
to reach the vibrancy
of the Solstice.
Fullness without,
fullness within.
Full Light.

Sarah Carlson

June 21, 2018

No Longer a Threat

This African violet has been through a lot. Barry gave it to me on February 14, 2002 - our last Valentine's Day. We didn't really have any sort of regular way to celebrate that particular holiday, but for some reason that year he decided to give me this gift.
It has weathered a house renovation during which it was shoved in a corner of an upstairs bedroom that wasn't particularly warm, and being watered very sporadically during that time. It has been tipped over on a few occasions - once after I had it re-potted at the store where he bought it because I thought it was dying, and once when I took it to someone's house to be part of an extremely healing experience - again on the way home. And yet it thrives.

No Longer a Threat

A hole in the screen,
a break in the skin,
a door left open.
A worry that something will
infiltrate, infect, fester.
A constant sense of jeopardy
rooted in origins
both understood and not.
This powerful effect of the wound
is losing its potency
as boundaries are determined
and continue to fortify
in such a way as to allow
benevolent permeability.
All the while the true taproot
grows stronger
with life-giving liquids circulating
 more and more freely.
Mind settling,
heart nurturing,
 soul fostering –
dynamic and sure
they surge and swirl,
providing a fullness
that is at the same time
 fresh and familiar.
Truth spirals,
grace expands,
love swells,
and there simply is
no longer a threat.

Sarah Carlson

June 19, 2018

Mourning Dew

Mourning Dew

Expanding essence,
settling spirit,
vibrating vitality –
a trilogy of wellness.
Even with these truths aboard,
sadness sometimes
seeps to the surface,
quietly gathers
for acknowledgment.
For it is also true,
 real, and right.
Like morning dew on
leaves and grasses,
stale sorrows bead and adhere
until a being notices,
allows them to vaporize
or entwine with
 restoration and revival.
Mourning dew,
warmed by
mourning light.
A gentle,
beneficial aspect
of the continued
honoring of the
veracity of grief.

Sarah Carlson

June 8, 2018

Unique and Yet the Same

Photo by Rami Haddad - Sunset Peak on Lantau Island, Hong Kong

Unique and Yet the Same

Perched upon rocks left askew by
earthly forces of bygone days –
solitary and together, both.
Awestruck, they widen their gazes,
enabling splendor and accomplishment
to saturate.
Breathing in, they watch the ocean
loosen its grip as
the once pervasive fog rises,
revealing treasured islands below.
They pause in wonder,
allowing gratitude to
permeate their beings
before they put feet to ground
and move on.
They follow the meandering trail
to the village far below,
ready for a time of
rest and rejuvenation
as new adventures await.
Sinewy singing muscles,
tranquil trusting minds,
beautiful beating hearts.
Unique and yet the same.

Sarah Carlson

June 5, 2018

Nothing to Do

Photo by Liz Koucky

Nothing to Do

Sometimes there’s nothing one can do.
I’m going to have to let that notion
sink all the way in.
For so long I took on far more than I should.
It wasn’t necessarily wrong at the time and
I learned a great deal in the trying.
There are things I know about me,
about life and healing,
that I may not have internalized
 any other way.
These recognitions are part of
a pivotal juncture in my life.
They came to me as I settled onto my island
and some winds began to bellow,
congesting the scene,
making my airways tighten.
They weren’t deeply threatening,
just stirred things up and pestered.
I tuned in for a bit and then realized I could
 take shelter with my boundaries strong,
allow for internal reorganization,
turn both away and to.
As I quieted I thought back
to the last night, 16 years ago,
when Barry and I were still us in the flesh.
We walked arm in arm around our neighborhood,
out for an evening stroll in the sweet spring air,
teenage children at home.
The next morning three of us raced off to school
and he, on vacation, met some friends
for a game of tennis.
And, then it happened.
He died.
With this habit of feeling
that there must be something I can do,
could have done,
I deeply internalized fault.
Did he try to tell me something on our walk?
How could I not have known?
What did I miss?
But he didn’t,
I couldn’t,
and I didn’t miss a thing.
There was nothing to do,
but be in the moments as we were,
cherish each other as we did,
and be in love.
Another radiant change –
acknowledging that
I didn’t make a mistake
because there really was
nothing to do.
Sometimes there just isn’t.

Sarah Carlson

May 29, 2018

Trek Across Maine

Trek Across Maine announced a major route change, starting with next year's Trek. This has brought up varied thoughts and emotions for me, and I'm guessing for many others. This isn't a complaint, just a statement of what is.
For me participating in the Trek for the past 12 years has been important in varied ways. One of those is that it has provided ample opportunities for me to connect with my brother, Geof, who was killed while biking on Martha's Vineyard in 1987 at the age of 33. Geof was also one of the very first Trekkers, riding in both 1985 and 86. I drove him to Bethel in 1985, silently wondering what in the world he was doing - especially since it was pouring rain. I will never forget seeing him off with the few hardy souls who rode that year and then passing him as I returned to Farmington with my two small children in the car. There was my big brother, lead rider of the first leg of the first Trek (they didn't have much in the way of route markers in those days), happily pedaling in the torrential rain, his extra layer of a garbage bag flapping in the wind, gigantic grin on his face as he gave all of us a big wave.
Twenty four years later, as I was making my way from Bethel to Rumford in my third Trek, I understood. The weather was remarkably similar in 2009, though there were almost 2,000 riders that year. As I watched the water shoot away from my tires, saw my reflection in the saturated road, took a moment to scrape the dirt from my glasses, I laughed out loud. I totally got why my brother was so happy that day. I was having a blast. There was no place else I wanted to be.
There have been other years in other parts of the Trek that I've felt him, as well. Often as we drop down towards Waterville, our home town, and make our way to Colby where we both spent many hours playing tennis, swimming, going to events. Sometimes going out of Waterville in the early morning as we pass by our old neighborhood and our high school.
I will miss all of that, along with hosting my team at my home in Farmington, and the wonderful experience of spanning our state - truly from the mountains to the sea. It just won't be the same. Change can be good, I know - radiant even... after all I did write a book with that title. But, I just don't know about this one.
As I pondered all this over the past days, I remembered the poem I wrote after participating in my first Trek. And I realized I had never posted it to my blog. So here it is:

Trek Across Maine
(Through the Eyes, Ears, and Heart of a Neophyte)

Heart pumping, stomach churning,
gasping for breath –
and I hadn’t even started yet.
Soaking in the moment,
knowing I was embarking on the ride
with the quiet support of our son,
the companionship of our daughter,
 the memories of my husband
and my big brother in my heart.
Off we went,
my AWESOME friends and I.
Off to join the river of bikers
ebbing, flowing, coursing
from the mountains to the sea.
An incredible journey unfolded
as we melded into the current.
Powered by our unique human spirits
and the stretching of personal limits.
Giving and receiving support
to and from people we knew
and others we had yet to meet.
Pedaling past a multitude of scenes
that represent Maine at its finest –
rolling fields, green hills,
distant mountains,
sparkling rivers and streams
weaving their way around
the solidity of the rocky earth.
Serenaded by chirping birds, croaking frogs,
and the cheers of smiling
green shirted volunteers.
Blue skies overhead,
 interrupted only occasionally
by friendly clouds wafting by.
Up and down hills,
feeling the contentment of reaching a peak
and the exhilaration of cruising
down the other side.
Early mornings, flat tires, broken spokes,
aching muscles, more miles
than we had ever ridden.
We did it all.
And I finished hand in hand
with our daughter, his niece.
A sense of accomplishment
unmatched by anything
I had ever done before.
Personal,
 multi-faceted victories
for us all.
A memorable Trek that I hope
is the first of many more to come.

Sarah Carlson

June 19, 2007

Sweet Little Island

Sweet Little Island

A quiet island sits
surrounded by reflective waters,
evening sky slowly slipping
into darkness.
I, on the edge of the road,
feel drawn to the scene
and so pause to take it in.
Days later I remember,
and realize why I stopped.
More and more I have the
sense of being on my own island
in both the clarity
 and uncertainty of life.
This is actually growth
 as I’ve worked to
adjust to losing the one with whom
I felt safe navigating
varied currents and inevitable obstacles.
My island is part of a whole
and I am included in the
tender loving support of the Divine.
I know that.
There are moments when I
have to draw in to
protect my shoreline
and interior landscape
as I continue to internalize that
I don’t have to be a repository
for the hurts and sorrows of others.
This is not easy for one with a caring heart,
inquisitive mind,
 sensitive soul.
It is, however, vital to healing.
I’m going to need more time
to fully unlearn a habit that
was so deeply in place.
If I need to pull up,
take shelter on the sweet little island
that is me –
so be it.
Though loneliness does visit,
it’s a pretty wonderful place to be,
safe in the knowledge
that I am loved.

Sarah Carlson

May 20, 2018

Water Over a Dam

Water Over a Dam

Having gone there,
with time spent in varied and intricate
nooks and crannies,
there’s the discovery of an amazing energy
that is both novel and familiar.
It has a wildness and yet it’s tame,
a fierceness partnered with empathy.
It contains an astonishing gusto
paired with sensations of serenity
that swirl throughout the stream.
Internal exploration
provides for opportunities
to let go, let flow
and produces this
wonderfully eclectic energy.
Healing is a process,
not a singular event.
At times there is a jettison
that is liberating,
feels so very good.
At other times there is confusion,
when what was once regarded as right
transmutes to wrong,
and vice versa.
Like water over a dam
trappings and notions plunge away,
debris carried to places unknown,
while residual vapors hover
to be reintegrated
or let go when the time is right.
Discombobulating,
transforming
invigorating,
reorienting,
liberating.
Water over a dam.

Sarah Carlson

May 17, 2018

Oh, How I Miss...

As I celebrated the fact that The Radiance of Change is now for sale in Rangeley, Maine at a delightfully named bookstore - Books, Lines and Thinkers - this picture dropped into my mind. It was taken on Dallas Hill in Rangeley at the home of some good friends at the time. Barry and I had stopped by to let them know we had decided to get married. It was late May of 1979 and we were married a month later.

Oh, How I Miss…

Oh, how I miss those arms, those eyes,
that heart.
Wonderfully lanky arms,
so often draped over my shoulder
or linked in mine
as we walked and talked
in harmony and peace.
Beautiful blue eyes,
filled with such tenderness and acceptance,
seeing me as I had never been seen before.
I saw you seeing me and knew that
you saw me seeing you.
Deeply caring heart
so in love with me
and the glories and challenges
of marriage and parenthood shared.
The heart that knew the moment we met
that you and I would be us.
And a wonderful us we were,
still are.
Even in moments of stress or misunderstanding
the promise of
reconciliation and restoration,
no grudges to be held,
remained true.
In my healing I’ve learned to embrace it all –
the triumphs and sorrows,
the connection and loneliness,
the love and longing.
And, oh how I miss those arms, those eyes,
 that heart.

Sarah Carlson

May 15, 2018

Go There

Go There

Don’t go there -
worst advice ever.
At least it was for me.
In truth,
it became vital to go into
that which was causing my dis-ease.
You can wrap it up,
store it away,
deny its existence.
But there IS there,
will continue to be.
It’s not easy to take the leap,
plunge on in.
It can’t really be done alone,
so you’ll have to ask for help.
You’ll need support and love,
but when the time is right,
when you hear the call or
feel the tug,
go there.
You’ll learn and grow,
gather what is necessary,
enabling you to take
what there has to teach
and utilize it for good.
Over time you will discover
slivers of understanding,
shards of insight,
specks of wisdom
that, together,
provide illumination and peace.
There has virtues all its own
that will mingle and mesh with
here and now
revealing the beauty
of a familiar landscape
anew.
So go there -
wander and wonder,
explore and examine,
and in time,
restore and recover.

Sarah Carlson

April 24, 2018

Heartened

This is a re-worked version of a poem that I wrote 11 years ago. When I put the book together it didn't make the cut, though I liked how I played with the word. The memory of it came up for me after a recent osteopathic treatment and I realized that so much of my work has been to move away from that sense of threat. I don't think I was comfortable with sharing the poem because that sense was still in play. I'm deeply grateful to feel that fundamentally incorrect notion slipping and sliding away... for good.

Heartened
(Take Away the T and move the R)

Threatened.
That’s what I felt for much
of my life.
Not just fear, but threat –
here, there, everywhere,
ready to pounce at any opportunity.
It had long been lurking,
creeping around the deep recesses of me,
keeping some parts of me captive.
In my healing I have gleaned some
understanding of the varied reasons
as to why and how that happened.
I know those multiple causes
were anchored to diverse stanchions.
As my mind has opened to
novel ways of thinking,
my heart to new ways of feeling,
my spirit to unique ways of expanding,
I can see and feel that,
in truth,
I should be heartened
by what I have accomplished,
how I have lived.
I can safely honor
my generosity, wit, and resilience.
So I think I’ll just
take away the t and move the r,
change feeling threatened
to being heartened
in the multi-hued,
softened moments of the
here and now.

Sarah Carlson

April 11, 2018

Right to Doubt

I went to a writing workshop this past weekend that was put on by the Maine Writing Project. The guest speaker was Gary Lawless, poet and owner of Gulf of Maine Books. Near the end of his amazing talk he asked us to write to the prompt of - what does 'pilgrimage' mean to you? 

This is what came for me as I pondered that topic:

 

Right to Doubt

Imposing man in long white robes
compels somber people
to kneel, stand, speak, sing,
be quiet.
No apparent rhyme or reason
to the messages,
as they all seem based in threat.
Every so often he comes out
from behind what keeps him separate
and swings a smoky, smelly canister.
Rosy-cheeked girl
holds a hymnal in her gloved hand,
swings her Mary Jane clad feet
as she looks, listens, smells,
 strains to understand.
Despite her efforts,
she only fully takes in fear.
“Why?” she wonders.
“Don’t they see, hear,
feel the truth?”
Her little stomach churns
as she squirms in the pew.
Years pass
and still she wonders, fears.
But she instinctively also
knows to embrace the good and,
 as a young adult,
she finds unconditional love.
Together they thrive,
through thick and thin.
And then, one day he is gone.
Broken-hearted, she carries on –
eventually heeds the tug,
embarks on a journey within.
Her trek is long and arduous,
though much is discovered along the way.
She’s grateful she knew to take the plunge
as she finds places of flowing,
of growing and knowing
on which she is continually
learning to rely.
She cuddles her little one,
who had every right to doubt
the missives of that scary place.
As time goes on she is
better able to rest easy,
digest the awareness that
it’s right to release,
right to trust,
right to commune,
right to
not feel wrong.

Sarah Carlson

April 7, 2018

Godwink

Godwink

Softly, subtly,
sometimes sidled with
stale achiness,
pieces rearrange, find newness
within her sweet, solid structure.
Now and then mild confusion
accompanies this realignment.
She simply notices,
acknowledges,
turns to faith.
She’s ready and willing
to allow and accept as
she knows her existence
is true.
Profound moments of
sublime serendipity
present themselves along the way.
She knows to immerse,
let them soak into her being,
cleanse and aid in healing.
Pensive, tender face of a young boy
as he shares a deep sorrow and his
own moments of healing.
Joyful energy of adult offspring
swooping down the slopes
of a beloved mountain.
Depth of sensitivity as a blind friend
raises his voice in song, adding to
the beauty of an Easter sunrise
on that same mountain.
 Perfect punctuation of that celebration
as a contrail gleams in the rising sun,
dark clouds parting.
Not-so-random conversation
with a genial couple celebrating
an anniversary,
speaking of love and connection,
children now grown,
teaching and learning,
and the birth of a book.
“We’re all supposed to be here
right now,” says the woman.
“This is a Godwink.”
This poet quietly smiles
and agrees.

Sarah Carlson

April 3, 2018

Sweet Relief

Sweet Relief

Wide open, full-on feeling,
wholly being in the body.
No threat to allowing
the full spectrum of emotions
that accompany being human.
They come, go, ebb, flow
with absolutely no need to feel wrong.
Even the sense of teetering on the edge
of previous pitfalls,
maybe even slipping in a bit,
carries no danger.
Remembering to ponder, consider,

determine what is actually going on
within and without.
Simply sitting with the
sensations and emotions,
letting the truth unroll, caress, and protect
like a warm, woolly blanket.
No concern of being ‘too’ of anything –
quiet, loud, happy, sad,
weak, strong, energetic, weary.
What sweet relief all this exploring
is bringing to this wide-eyed warrior.
Intrepid, soft-hearted, loving spirit
joyfully embraces the solace
that more and more saturates her cells.
Sweet, gentle, loving relief
with moments of no hurt,
no worries, no wonders,
and no threat… even to that.

Sarah Carlson

March 20, 2018