....turtle time

Yogis,
My sister always knows what books I will enjoy. That’s why after reading and falling instantly in love with ‘Of Time and Turtles’, she handed it off to me with the caveat that this one was to be eventually returned. That’s how much she connected with its main characters…..the turtles.

The book, written by Sy Montgomery, is a true story of the time she spent volunteering for a turtle rescue league. While helping heal turtles she learned about the critical role turtles play in our environment. The experience changed her life and provided hope and meaning in a world that can at times seem to be missing both. The byline of the book is ‘Mending the World, Shell by Shattered Shell.’

I finally got a chance to start the book last week and as I opened the first page my jaw dropped. A short quote sat on an otherwise empty page. ‘Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.’ The exact same quote by Laozi that I had used in my Sunday writing the week before. I knew then that this book would be a special experience for me too.

Did you know turtles walked with dinosaurs? They can live over two hundred years, sense a pond a mile away and have over 300 species. They have personalities. And they are slow……

So yesterday morning I ran to the river and spent time sitting quietly on a fallen tree watching the water go by. Shifting into turtle time. Noticing the profusion of phlox in bloom and the spring green of newly opened leaves. Closing my eyes I listened to a symphony of bird calls.

As I often do, I asked the Universe for guidance on what to write, and then as an afterthought mentioned how nice it would be to see a turtle. Thanking the river and trees I headed home.

Not an hour later I glanced out the window to find a turtle marching along the path in my medicine wheel garden! Spotlighted by the sun you couldn’t have missed it! Head high and moving with purpose.

Out I went with phone in hand for a photo shoot. Seeing this turtle in a different light than in the past. With love, respect and gratitude. I gently helped remove a small stick stuck to her face and told her how awesome she was.

Turtles look right at you.

What a gift…….
SARAH

.....spring cleaning

Yogis,
Spring has sprung and my body is feeling it all. Tight shoulders and sore leg muscles from all the bending, twisting, squatting and reaching that spring in the garden requires. I have been literally knee deep in leaves, sticks and weeds as I begin this year’s spring cleaning in earnest.

No rake or leaf blower for me as I crawl in to remove old growth and weeds by hand, not wanting to risk harming any shoots pushing their heads through the earth toward the light. Every heavy handful of soggy leaves I lift reveals something.

Oh, hello bergamot! Welcome back echinacea! Excited to spend another summer with you goldenrod! The scent of mint wafts by as my hands comb through a raised bed. Looking forward to adding you to my eggs, chives!

All my old trusty friends who return year after year. Dependable.

But then I move some sticks in an area I remember being bare and see someone unfamiliar. Hhmmmmm…… Obviously I planted this last year but I have absolutely no idea who it is. This happens every spring at least a few times. New plants that I add at the end of a summer that thankfully come back but my memory of them does not. Thank goodness I didn’t go buy a plant for this spot already.

It’s both baffling and thrilling! Something that isn’t new, but feels new. I am reminded of my closet.

Every spring when I vow to ‘spring clean’ my closet and drawers I begin to pull everything out. One by one. By hand.

Yellow tank top, you will be getting a lot of use this summer. Yay white pants, you still fit well! I forgot your perfect pocket for my phone, running shorts. And then I come across a summer dress I have had a few years that is still unworn which I completely forgot I own. Embarrassingly the tag still on.

I try it on. It fits perfectly and feels right! The shopping I had planned for an upcoming event has suddenly been crossed off the to do list. This isn’t the first time I have shopped successfully in my own closet. Not new…..yet new.

In spring we have a natural urge to clean, purge and purchase. Sometimes I find myself doing it in the wrong order though…..purchasing first and often discovering I already have what I just bought. This year in my garden and my life, I am setting the intention to clean first. Who knows what I may find?

I forgot about you awesome shorts….. and sensitive fern!
SARAH

.....as it is

Yogis,
Defined as ‘a natural tendency to behave in a certain way’, propensities develop over time and have our mind believe there is one way to act and it is the right way. We all have them. I’ve noticed one of mine.

Spring, while beautiful and so full of promise, also tests us. I returned from vacation to three glorious days of warmth and sunlight. Yes! Spring has arrived. Two days later I am bundled up with my tired winter coat, gloves and well-worn hat. Each time I open the door to a brisk wind I am annoyed. This isn’t spring.

But it is.

Warm weather returns with an Easter I touted as the perfect spring weekend. Blue skies highlight how imminent the unfurling of leaves is. With a pep in my step, I’m anxious to be outside for large chunks of time. Then…… three gloomy days filled with sporadic torrential rains. The thermometer reading low fifties, but my bones registering mid-thirties. Is it possible to not go out at all?

Annoyed. Frustrated. Wishing the days away to get to what I have decided is true spring. I realize I do this each year. Wanting spring to be something she is not. A propensity which is the root of my own suffering.

April can be cruel that way. A harsh teacher of letting things be as they are. April, however, is not the problem. Things on the outside are rarely the problem. The issues arise from our unmet expectations.

What if I change my expectations? Can I let April be what it is? Changeable, turbulent, wet and beautiful all rolled up in one messy ball. Can I go for the ride? Embrace all of her?

I woke Thursday to a crescent moon hanging in a brightening sky, framed by clouds tinged pink by the approaching sun. Stunning. Twenty minutes later fog rolls in, blanketing the world white.  Silent.  An afternoon forecast for rain and gusty winds. Blustery.  Did I mention hail?

Like life, April offers chances to let go and practice experiencing things as they are, not as we wish them to be. In the meantime, she continues to do her work preparing the earth for a bounty, unbothered by our expectations. Thank goodness.

Tonight down to 40,
SARAH

....deeper connection

 Yogis,
Returning from vacation late last Wednesday, I unpacked, got some sleep, taught two classes, went through the mail and repacked my suitcase. Thursday I headed down to watch my three grandchildren.

Last weekend my oldest son and daughter-in-law took a 5 day trip to Mexico. It was the first real adult vacation they have had post kids. Five days in the sun doing whatever they felt like doing, whenever they felt like doing it. The real deal.

It is a completely different experience to move about the world as a ‘couple’ vs a ‘family’.

I know the difference well. Working for Xerox, we went on President’s Club trips for years, followed by our own weeklong stays on islands. Each time my parents swooped in to watch the boys. First one son, then two, then three, and finally three plus a dog.

Those times away from the kids, while complicated and often stressful to plan, were necessary to my well-being.  Weeks where I could be a woman, not a mom. Carefree vs structured. Wild instead of disciplined. A reset for my soul and a deeper connection for our partnership.  My turn now to pay it forward.

Moving as a family instead of a couple again. School drop offs and homework. Finishing the dishes just as a child walks in and announces they are hungry. Baseball practices and swim lessons. Diaper changes and middle of the night tears.  Getting three children ready for an outing. Not easy.

My sons are quite close to my mom and dad and I have always credited that to those weeks when my parents shifted from couple to family. I see the same happening with my grandchildren. When they have to come to me for the hug after a fall and I get to tuck them in bed and be the first face they see as they wake. The connection deepens.

On the final morning my oldest grandson came down and said “You know what Nana? I’m really excited for mom and dad to come home, but then I am also sad you are leaving.”

Me too, I told him as I prepared to shift back to life as a couple.

Deeper,
SARAH

....never alone

Yogis,
Fifteen hours. Three taxis. Two ferries. Two planes. And two miles of walking to accomplish all of the above. This describes my trip home after thirteen days in the Virgin Islands. My happy place.

When you want to spend time on islands like St John and Anegada there is effort in the getting to and getting from processes. Even once settled in there is effort to hiking and even getting to the beach itself. Steep slopes. Rocks. Uneven terrain. Sand roads. Not for everyone. Which is exactly its appeal for me.

The physical-ness means few people vacation there.

In Anegada our morning routine was walking four miles on the only road. Narrow and unpaved it offers spectacular views of other islands in the distance and glimpses of the water in every color of blue imaginable. On a typical day one lone car would pass. As the roar of the engine would fade in the distance only sounds of birds and waves remained once again.

It was on one of these walks that I realized what defines my perfect vacation. Natural beauty……and very few humans. Not an easy thing to find these days. Hence…..the effort.

It isn’t that I don’t like people. I love people! And there are times I am drawn to venture to cities unseen and follow along with the crowds to witness monuments, art and views. But when I feel the most like me is when I am alone with the world and my thoughts.

Yet the more alone I get, the more I see I am never alone.

Each morning I would send a picture to my parents and sister. On about day five my dad commented that he expected to see more pictures of margaritas and surf scenes, but he liked this better. I realized then that all the pictures I shared were of non-human creatures.

A starfish who surprised me with her plumpness. A stingray in ankle deep water. The rooster who stood beneath our chairs in hopes of crumbs falling to the ground. The donkeys who amble directly toward the open window of the jeep when we pull over to take in a view. The cow who stood pensively on the dune in front of our tent at sunrise to witness the ocean before rejoining the herd.

The silly and somewhat phallic cacti which I have fallen in love with over the years. And oh my, the rainbows………

Floating in the ocean listening to my breath with no one in sight, pelicans float overhead. What a gift to experience the wonders of the world alone.

Yet never alone,
SARAH

.....steward

Yogis,
It’s the time of year where I can’t help but write about English ivy….  Oh, how I wish the issue of her spread would go away on its own. If only she could offer color during the dreary winter months but remain sparse on trees. Sigh. Instead she continues her sprint forward, so I put thoughts to paper once again.

English ivy, the kind you picture climbing stone buildings, was brought to the US as early as 1727 by European settlers. Everyone loved how it’s green all year, fills in bare spots and requires no care. But we loved it a bit too much, so it is now invasive and threatens our trees.

Each late winter, I spend time cutting back ivy and other invasive vines (of which there are several new ones) from my trees. Last year I took it further and joined a group called ‘tree friends’, trained by the Park Service on slowing ivy. The group gathers in county areas to help save trees.

There isn’t an ivy fairy in your yard though. Even landscapers ignore ivy unles you specifically ask and pay for it. Garden centers continue to sell it for planting. Don’t!

It has me thinking about stewardship.

For those of us that own a home, the land it sits on which we claim as ‘ours’ (which isn’t really) deserves our care. The trees, birds, insects and plants need us to be attentive. To notice when an invasive has entered and take action. To be a good steward of the incredible gift we have been given.

Stroll around your property! Check every tree. Look at bushes and up against the house.

Ivy starts innocently enough. It thickens to engulf a trunk. It soon covers leaves blocking photosynthesis. Limbs begin looking ragged. Branches fall. The tree is smothered if it isn’t first blown over from weight. A slow death.

Best to catch it early when it can be removed. However, there is no need to get it all off. Removing ivy from ankle to knee with clippers or a small hand saw will kill what is above and the tree will breathe free again.

After stewarding your piece of earth, mention it to neighbors who have ivy on their trees. Most people don’t know. Maybe lend a hand to a tree in a common area. Earth will be grateful.

Being a steward,
SARAH

....the silence between

Yogis,
What caught my attention first this morning was the geese. Flying overhead in formation they headed inland for their day in the fields. A large V shape slicing through the morning sky. And they had a lot to say. Soon they faded off into the distance.

Only a moment later I begin to hear another flock. Much honking ensued above me before they too can no longer be seen or heard. Then another flock. And another. My run filled with the coming and going of sounds of geese.

Arriving at the boardwalk the geese are now replaced by waves. The unmistakable sound of a wave growing until it reaches a peak. Then the thrill of the crash. Over and over in a familiar rhythm. I hear the next wave building as my heartbeat quickens. I wait for it……the crash. Boom.

Then there is a moment of silence.

It’s so quick it would be easy to miss. The following swell already revving up. Yet today I notice. My attention now shifts and I begin seeking out the space between sounds. The gap that exists between the end of one wave and the formation of another. I listen.

Our breath flows the same way. The inhale is the beginning. Building and expanding until it too reaches a peak. The exhale is the dropping and letting go. Then there is a pause.

The pause is always there.

I run back through our patch of woods, startling a squirrel who makes a rustling sound as he scampers across dried leaves. He stops to look back. Silence. Again he runs and heads partway up the tree. He pauses with head cocked. Silence.

Everything moves in a cycle and as each reaches its end, there is a pause. A gap between movements. A space between thoughts. An opening between breaths. In these voids there is nothing, yet everything comes from there. In the blink of an eye a new breath rises.

I invite you to seek the silence. As you sit here, close your eyes and begin watching your breath. Observe the building of the inhale and the release of the exhale. Then wait for the silence. Patience. It is always there.

This is a practice and offers many gifts. In this space, profound peace can be found.

I hear more geese coming,
SARAH