.....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

.....gentling

Yogis,
‘To gentle the journey through serious illness and loss with skill and compassion’

This was the quote that opened and set the tone for a two-day hospice training I attended this week. Now a graduate of the course, I will soon begin volunteering once a week for Montgomery & Prince George’s Hospice.

After taking the death doula course several months ago I was looking for the next step on this journey I have embarked on. Hospice seemed the perfect fit and this particular one resonated with what I would want in a hospice when it’s time.

What exactly is hospice? There are a lot of misconceptions. It isn’t a place. It is a service that comes to you, wherever you are. Covered by Medicare/Medicaid, one is eligible once the choice is made to no longer prolong life through treatments and death is expected (as best as one can predict a path so unique to each person) within six months.

There are many hospices available! This one is one of only about 20% still operating as a nonprofit. Most are now for profit. The most basic requirements for your care team are a hospice nurse, a social worker, a chaplain and volunteers. In fact, by law volunteers must provide a minimum of 5% of patient contact. Then each individual organization may offer other services.

As examples, Montgomery Hospice offers pet therapy, reiki (which I plan to be a part of), lavender hand massages (yes!), military pinning ceremonies for former service members and aromatherapy. Their 30 member threshold choir sends 4 people to sing at the bedside of those close to the threshold between worlds. They are amazing!

As a volunteer I will visit a patient 2 hours each week to talk, read to them, play music…..or simply sit as a quiet presence. I also hope to educate others on hospice and normalize our discussions on death......The only sure thing.

You matter because you are you,

and you matter to the end of your life. 

We will do all we can not only to help you die peacefully, 

but also to live until you die.

 ~ Cicely Saunders (founder of the hospice movement 1967)

Won’t this make me sad? At times, yes. But as everyone reiterated, we will receive so much more than we give.

Gentling the journey,
SARAH

......something we can do

Yogis,
My aunt has been having medical challenges this past week…… several states away. With the physical distance and her care being handled by doctors, we have been feeling frustrated. Like there isn’t much we can do to help her. If only we could transport ourselves to her side.

Last night though, when things were quiet, I remembered that we can! There is something we can do to be there for her. Any time and from any place.

We are energy and this human shape is not a boundary. We can be together by intending and willing it to happen. We all do this unconsciously but also have the ability to make this a conscious practice.

It’s quite simple. And although these are not requirements, I find being alone and closing my eyes to be very helpful.

Begin by bringing an image to mind of the person with whom you want to connect or help. An image of them healthy and happy. See them. Then remember what they ‘feel’ like. Their energy. Not what they think or believe. Not their actions. Instead, that part of them that never changes and makes them unique. Their essence.

Once you can see and feel them it is as if you are together. Give them what you want to share. Turn it on in yourself and radiate it out. Turn on the feeling of love and direct it toward them. Or joy. Maybe some humor or sharing of memories. It may be healing or gratitude. You can send anything you awaken and intend to send.

If it feels right, you can add warm light surrounding them. Color. Sunshine. An image of something you know brings them happiness.

Anything we can imagine…..we can create.

The person could be sitting in the same room or thousands of mile away. Maybe it’s just someone you don’t get the chance to see often. And whether they consciously feel it or not, you will reach them and will have an effect.

Last night as I was falling asleep, I held an image of my aunt with the two of us laughing together and I shined love her way.

What you send you also receive,
SARAH

.....plant connections

Yogis,
In February 2023 I hosted a baby shower for the upcoming birth of my youngest granddaughter. Like most baby showers I had a few small gifts for family and friends to take home when the party ended.

One of the gifts was a pack of sunflower seeds.

The following spring I forgot to plant any. This spring though, I was on it. I was unsure how successful they would be after having sat in packets for more than two years. I shouldn’t have worried. Seeds are miraculous.

In May I started a few in my aerogarden and by July two seedlings were sturdy enough to plant outside. My older granddaughter helped me get them in the dirt.

One of them headed skyward immediately. It is now probably 10 feet tall, towering over me and gorgeous! Her cheerful face always decorated with busy bees.

I can see it while doing dishes at my kitchen sink. From my bedroom and as I descend the steps. It’s waving at me right now while I write this on my deck. And every time I see it, I think of little Penny……a beautiful sunflower herself.

My plan is to save some seeds to keep the cycle going.

I also remembered to plant trumpet squash seeds this year after a 3 year hiatus. My neighbors Danny and Margaret were growing them before they died. They always gave me a few and taught me how to properly support their vining habit. I fell in love.

Friday night as I sliced and roasted my first one of the year, memories flooded in of our times together. I know they would love that I am growing them.

All of the zinnias I have grown in the community garden and my own medicine wheel over the last several years began from one pack of seeds. I held a healing ceremony for the family of a friend who passed away much too young. That day they gifted me a pack of seeds in her memory.

Every year I save the flower’s seed heads to replant the following year. Her memory lives in every one of those hundreds of flowers and in them I can see her smile.

Seeds grow connections,
SARAH

......how I know

Yogis,
It was the box I knew would come. It always does. Opening my weekly CSA share I find it bursting with freshly picked local fruits and vegetables and realize this is the one. Tomatoes, corn, large juicy peaches, cucumbers and an assortment of brightly colored peppers spread across my countertop. The box that lets me know it is August.

Who needs a calendar when the world speaks in flavors, colors and smells. What are the things that let you know its August?

My alarm goes off to start my early morning routine. My eyes open to discover that it is indeed still dark. Ugh. Always a shock the first time but this will be the new norm and I will adapt. Sitting up from savasana at the end of an evening class we all notice how the room is shadowed. The shift in light winks to let me know it is August.

The bird song is quieter. Nesting and raising of young is complete, opening an empty space in the air which is immediately flooded with the hum of insects. A daytime chorus which gives way to the nighttime performance. I open my window to be serenaded to sleep and realize that nature holds the original patent for today’s popular sound machines. And it’s free! The vibration tells me its August.

July feels sharper to me. A blinding sun and an intensity to the heat. Gardens in bloom with vivid flowers and a party atmosphere in the air. August somehow seems softer. A month who whispers we are now on the other side of the peak.

Is that a cool breeze I feel?

Where early in the summer I spent hours on my knees trimming and weeding, making sure everything was tidy, the garden is now lush and wild. Overgrown with goldenrod towering over bergamot which leans into spider flower. The echinacea flower heads quickly drying which draws in the goldfinch who love the seeds. I know it’s August when my garden takes care of herself.

The first fallen leaves dot the grass.

I know her well,
SARAH

....nana camp

Yogis,
The now annual ‘nana camp’ for my two oldest grandchildren is a wrap!

From the moment they arrived on Sunday evening until Friday afternoon’s drop off there was nonstop action. Some new activities were added in this year like seeing a children’s musical and making rice crispy treats, but many old favorites resurfaced as well. Smores made over the firepit (they really are delicious), a movie at a theater and a couple trips to the pool.

Two nights of backyard camping were one of the highlights.

My husband is always in charge of the things that make me nervous. Overseeing trampoline time at our next-door neighbors, front flips and all. And letting them ride go cart bikes down the street. Thrilling.

Like most things in life, at some point you stop and try to remember how it all came to be. What was the impetus.

I have my parents to thank for this tradition. As each of my boys got old enough, they would go (one at a time) to spend a week in NJ with their Nana and Pop Pop in the summers. My dad would take them to the amusement park to ride rollercoasters, golfing and of course, to the racetrack where he would give them money to use for betting on horses. My mom would set up a cot next to her bed for them to sleep and they would watch game show network together before drifting off for the night.

These are how relationships deepen. Lasting memories are formed.

Spending time with grandkids when the parents are there is wonderful, but it is in the dedicated times alone that connections truly form. When they have to come to you with skinned knees or hurt feelings. When it is you putting them to bed with a nightly lavender head massage and making their breakfast as they wake. Trust and an understanding of how you fit into the puzzle of their life are developed.

They will remember (as my boys can attest).

More grandchildren will be attending nana camp in the future,
SARAH