.....humming

Yogis,
It has arrived! The season of giving thanks is officially here with its peak on Thanksgiving Day. Then as the last piece of pumpkin pie is eaten, the shift to buying and giving is swift. Let’s not lose any time.

Today I offer an activity to help get what I call the gratitude engine, humming. Gratitude is an energy with a unique vibration and resides within us. It is one of the feel-good energies, closely aligned with joy, awe and love and can be switched on at will with practice.

Here is what I am using this week as the switch.

Find a time when you can take a 20 minute walk, although walking itself is not the goal. This could just as easily be done with 20 minutes standing outside or even meandering through the house. Have your phone with you and camera turned on. Turn off the ringer and no checking emails or texts.

Look for something you like. It can be anything. An object, a color, something in nature……. Once you find one, take a mindful picture of it. Take your time. See it. Capture what it looks like and mentally say to yourself, ‘ I am grateful for_____’.  And move on. Keep looking and repeating.

I did this today on my walk to the beach. My first find was a changing oak hydrangea leaf. Beautiful. I am grateful for the changing colors of the leaves. Stepping onto the sand I see a horseshoe crab shell. I am grateful that there are horseshoe crabs in this world. And grateful for sand!  Looking up, the sun is beginning to peak from behind the clouds. Sun beams streak the sky. I am so very grateful for the sun!

Geese fly overhead. Grateful for birds. The boardwalk. My shoes. Ice cream cones….my trusty car…..the first sip of coffee on my return.

The more I look the more I find. My body feeling lighter and my heart beginning to hum. Gratitude connects us with the world around us. Finding the good that is already there.

If you decide to join me, I would love to see a picture.

Grateful for a warm shower,
SARAH

.....seeds, seeds, seeds

 Yogis,
The garden no longer asks for much of my attention. Watering has ended, pruning is unnecessary and clean up waits for spring. My focus now is on seeds.

We usually think of buying and planting seeds in spring. Yet there are many plants that drop seeds now which sit quietly on the ground through the cold, ice and snow. Patiently waiting for days to lengthen so they can send up their shoots. This is referred to as self-seeding.

The birds and wind are co-participants in this activity treating me to spring surprises, like woodland lettuce which appeared in my medicine wheel.  I also love to lend a hand, scattering them in empty spaces where I want to see them grow.

I have been collecting seed heads from echinacea, lobelia, boneset and cardinal flower in the yard, but also sneezeweed and mistflower near the river. Swapping seeds with friends and neighbors is another great way to have more natives in your yard….for free!

Will they all grow? No. It’s like a fun science experiment. All that is required is disturbing the dirt in an area a little and rubbing the seed head to get the seeds to drop and kick a little dirt or leaves back over. I have complete faith that some will grow. Others may wait a couple years, and some just weren’t meant to be.

A seed is tiny but filled with unlimited potential. Think of the acorn. She carries the blueprint of an oak tree that grows over 50 feet and lives hundreds of years.

In life every thought or intention we have is a seed. Filled with unlimited potential because thoughts become things. Fall, like spring, is a time of year to plant your life seeds. What is it that you want to grow in the empty spaces of your life’s garden come spring?

It reminds me of how reading or listening to something right before sleep imprints it in your mind. Winter is our sleep. I have complete faith that the seeds I plant will become things if they are meant to.

My job is to plant them.

Happy seeding!
SARAH

.....seasons

Yogis,
This was the week when fall truly settled in around here. The temperatures, smells, colors and sounds were like ads for the season.

Most of my life I wasn’t a fall fan. Instead of enjoying it for what it offers, I saw her as a harbinger of what lies ahead. Darkness and cold. I would say it has only been in the last ten years that I have begun to draw her in…..or maybe it is she who embraced me.

Like the calendar year, our lives have seasons.

We are born into the springlike energy of childhood and adolescence. Bright, carefree and playful. Years to grow and build a foundation where our biggest needs are to be nurtured and watered. Then summer arrives…….and with it the heat.

Careers, children, schedules and responsibilities pack our days. High energy as we strive and accumulate the cars, houses and lots of stuff. A time of fullness. The peak. Then, if we are fortunate, we get to experience fall.

I intellectually knew I entered fall a while ago, but for some reason it wasn’t until this year that it truly sank in. At 63 autumn has suddenly settled into my bones and I am now ready to honor her and the gifts she brings.

Like the trees I watch out my window, my colors are changing. My skin and the garden becoming dry. And life becomes a bit quieter.

Fall is melancholy….but in a beautiful way. A season in life where we are in the midst once again of big transitions. Retirements, downsizing, moves, grandchildren. A thinning of responsibilities which can feel sad but also exhilarating as new spaces open.

I watch the leaves fall as I fill bags and boxes with things I am ready to let go of. I hear a flock of birds overhead and as they head south, so will many of my friends.

At times I wish for an endless summer.  But fall does not try to pretend it is summer. Why would it?  I listen and lean in to love this season of life, just as it is.

And if I am fortunate…..I will get to experience winter.

In fall we drop our masks,
SARAH

....open to awe

Yogis,
I’m at the beach this weekend and set the alarm early to get down to the ocean before sunrise. Our house is STILL filled with the saws and sawdust of construction (that’s another whole story) so we can’t stay there. My routine is to drive into town and park in front of our house so I can take my usual run.

I head through quiet streets and as I start down the sandy path that leads to the beach I see it. The ocean in the distance topped by puffy pink tinged clouds. The emerging light of dawn coloring even the air. My breath catches for a moment. The feeling of awe floods my body. It happens every single time.

What is the definition of awe? According to Oxford it is ‘the feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.’ Other definitions add in terms such as ‘produced by that which is grand, sublime or extremely powerful.’

According to studies, the average person experiences awe 2 to 3 times per week. When was the last time you felt awe?

Although a fleeting sensation, for me it is a whole body high. Thoughts quiet, my body tingles and the chest expands. For that moment, nothing exists except me and the observed.

It happened the other cold clear morning as I stepped out to walk Phoebe and looked up. Stars illuminated the sky with a perfect crescent moon hanging on the western horizon. It happened when I walked into my bathroom in late afternoon to the sight of my suddenly gold colored oak tree framed by the window. And again while cooking dinner when I took my first taste.

A crescendo in classical music. Artwork. The smell of a rose.

I have been thinking about awe. I’m realizing it isn’t something you can go look for. Instead, the more present you are the more often it finds you. It’s as if by moving through life more slowly and being open to awe, she rolls to your feet.

The world we live in is filled with awe. No, I would go a step further. The world we live in is awe. All we have to do is open to let it in.

Feeling tingly,
SARAH

....birth

Yogis,
She has arrived! On October 8, at 8:19 am our granddaughter entered the world. Coming rather quickly, Summer James Cahill arrived at home, underwater in a tub under the guidance of a midwife. With five grandchildren (yikes!!) my third granddaughter has tipped the scale in favor of girls.

Holding her the next day I giggled as she struggled to open her eyes. One would open and the other would shut. A big effort in the bight lights of life. As both finally opened we peered at each other for the first time.

Who will she be? What paths will she choose? What are her unique gifts and how will she change the world? Unlimited possibilities lay ahead.

I followed the female thread that weaves through my family.

When my grandmother was born a wife’s legal identity was considered part of her husband’s. Yet my grandmother gave birth to my mom at home too. With a midwife. At that time women were expected to resign from jobs upon marriage.

By 1962 when I was born, births were ‘handled’ in hospitals by male doctors, with many women put under anesthesia while fathers sat down the hall in a waiting room. Birth control was not a constitutional right and women couldn’t get a credit card.

I birthed my first in 1984. A hospital was still the main option with fluorescent lights and delivery rooms resembling surgical units, while interns looked on. Husbands now there to support, but often heading to the office right after the birth……

I watch my daughter-in-laws. So many more options for women. The ability to choose how they want to bring another human being into the world.

Yet through it all, one thing never changes. Regardless of hospital, bed or tub. No matter who is in the room or what equipment is used. It is a woman who carries and nurtures life for nine months and when it’s time, her body knows what to do if allowed. Mother energy is a powerful force.

The world is slowly taking notice.

Welcome to the world Summer,
SARAH

.....love in action

 Yogis,
A picture perfect day in a magnificent setting. The groom on my left with his bride to my right. They hold hands. About to proclaim their love and commitment to each other in front of 150 witnesses. The air was warm and the sky that blue color which seems impossible to replicate in our human world.

Yesterday I officiated a wedding. My fifth over these past eleven years.

For each one, I spend time with the couple over the months before the wedding to get a sense of them. Of their desires for the ceremony, but also for the lives ahead that they will walk toward together.

A thread always emerges and becomes the weaver of my words. Yesterday those words were ‘love in action’.

We forget that love is a verb. Yes, there are the glorious gifts of fireworks and full body tingling when we fall in love. Yet to stay hand in hand over the next 5, 6 or even 7 decades requires love in action.

Love is something we do, not something that happens to us.  It is an action we choose to do……every day.

We do this by choosing consistent communication. Showing compassion. Kindness, kindness, kindness. Prioritizing quality time together. Showing appreciation and of course, accepting each other’s imperfections, since as much as we may try (and we will)…..they aren’t going to change.  

This couple has all of the ingredients to make theirs a life long love story.

We heard it in their deep thoughtful vows. And again, in each tear-jerking speech and toast. How these two love each other on purpose. Through having each other’s back, being vulnerable, speaking up and unquestionable loyalty.

We witnessed it in their actions. How they look at each other. Strong individuals, yet always aware of where the other is and swooping in when something is needed. And by the immense circle of love they’ve created with friends and family. They so evidently choose love.

I opened the window in front of my heart to radiate love on the couple.

Love in action,
SARAH

.....asters vs mums

Yogis,
Before I discovered the joy of gardening….or should I say, before it found me, I used to plant mums in the front yard each fall. It’s hard to resist those autumn colors all lined up at the store’s entrance, asking to be taken home. A chance to extend summer a bit.

And then each spring I would wait for them to come back up. It never happened. I was convinced I was the problem.

Then asters entered my life.

Asters, and what we refer to as mums, are both members of the Asteraceae family.  This family has the most basic shape of flowers with a round center and radiating petals. Think daisies, black eyed Susans, sunflowers.  There are 32,000 known plants in this family.

Asters though, unlike mums are native to the United States. Being native they are drought tolerant, easy care and come back each year! No fuss. My kind of plant. Asters will even reproduce via dropping seeds if you leave them alone. And they come in many stunning colors.

I planted my first set of lavender colored asters about 5 years ago, following up soon after with another variety. With absolutely no special attention from me (other than spending time with them) they come into a full cheerful bloom at the end of each summer, just as the garden seems to be wrapping up. The same time mums are arriving at garden nurseries.

Being native also means many kinds of bees and other insects find and enjoy them. Asters are even host plants for some butterflies who wouldn’t exist without them. Between the goldenrod and asters, my wheel remains colorful and busy through September.

The Universe, as always, communicates back in her reciprocal way. Over the last two years three different native white asters have shown up in my yard. I plant…..she plants….I plant…. she plants. They are all dainty, lovely additions to the areas where I have been clearing out invasives. Gifts.

Mums are lovely, but asters have stolen my heart. Give them a try if you haven’t already!

Learning,
SARAH