......kind

Yogis,

How is it possible? The year where we hid 2000 dimes for the kids to find is now twenty years in the rear-view mirror. Yikes! Each year has been unique. Each offering its own gifts, challenges, lessons and learnings. Each exactly as it was supposed to be, creating the me I am now.

Yet here I stand yet again staring into the clear space of a new year filled with unlimited possibilities. What do I wish to create in this new year and new decade?

As time sweeps us into this uncharted territory of a new year it is time once again for me to select my ‘word’. A word that sets the intention of the frequency at which I want to vibrate. Fierce, simplicity and gratitude have guided me these last few years. The year 2020 will be led by the word – KIND.

The feeling tone of a word can be difficult to put into words. Oxford dictionary defines it as “generous, helpful and caring of other people” but that seems a little too fluffy to me for some reason. Too light. And kindness differs greatly from being nice. Can you feel that?

When I close my eyes and feel ‘kind’ the energy radiates from a deep well within. It doesn’t boast or look for something in return. It is simple and quiet, yet courageous. Steady and not disturbed by the outer world. A way of being….not of doing.

This week I was listening to Buffalo Springfield’s ‘For what it’s worth’ when time suddenly stood still. It felt like I was observing the world exactly as it was at that very moment…..  

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear

I saw each of us on one side or another, all believing we are right….

There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong

The word hate and polished forms of meanness thrown casually around on both sides…….

Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side

As I watched without all of the stories, a call for kindness echoed back. Kindness to the world.

Kindness to bring us closer.

So that is my intention. To be kind. To others, to animals, insects, the earth and myself. Kind in my thoughts, words and how I move through my day. And most importantly, but most challenging.... kind to those with whom I disagree.  I will sit with this each morning as I meditate.

What is your word? I would love to hear it!

I am kind,
SARAH

.....giving or receiving?

Yogis,
Tis the season of giving…….or so it has been named. Gifts to be bought and wrapped, items to be made with care, and food to be cooked. But wait a minute.  What about receiving? For every gift given, isn’t there someone or something on the other end? What is a gift without a recipient……?

Most of us know how to gift. With giving we are in control. For some it comes as second nature, always knowing the perfect item. Others find it a bit more challenging but can rustle something up. Everyone is taught how to gift and we do it pretty well as demonstrated by the sales numbers at local stores and number of cars on the road this time of year. Receiving, however, is another story.

Giving and receiving are energies. The same current moving in opposite directions, like the flow of the tides. The energy of giving is active. Like the sun, it is a pouring out to another. Receiving is the other side of the coin. The same energy but receptive. Allowing. This side can feel vulnerable. We don’t get quite as much training on this aspect and it can show.

Let’s take a simple example with words instead of objects. Someone walks up to me and says. ‘I love your sweater’. My response – ‘Oh this old thing. I got it at the outlets on sale’. Or my other go to – ‘And I love your earrings!’ Their compliment had been a gift. My answers built a sudden dam in the flow. The energy stopped in its tracks. Do I not feel worthy of the compliment?

If on the other hand I had looked them in the eye and said ‘Thank you!’, by opening to receive their gift I have sent a gift back. Receiving is a gift we give the giver. Not always easy. I find that women in particular seem to struggle here as we are more accustomed to being the ones on the giving/mothering/in charge end. It can feel uncomfortable to receive. As someone described it recently, when a compliment is sent your way, wear it!

Is it better to give or receive?

Most people answer to give. But one cannot exist without the other. Learning to receive is a gift in and of itself. Water is our best teacher here. No matter what you throw in, she opens her arms wide and embraces it. Fully. 

When you are handed a gift this week, regardless of what it is or what it looks like, be like the water and draw it in and love it. The gift you will be sending back will be tenfold.

Running by the light of the moon this week I turned a corner where her rays suddenly shown directly down on me. A gift! I stopped and looked up to say thank you as I soaked them in. By accepting them fully a connection was created. A gift had been sent back and we were now in an intimate dance of gratitude.  It felt great.

Now I just have to remember to practice all of this on Christmas morning……..

By receiving I am giving,
SARAH

A New Year.....A New Habit

Yogis,
This month marks the twelfth anniversary of my meditation practice. I remember vividly how it all began.

At that time, I was going through a lot of changes. My yoga practice was deepening, the garden had wrapped me under her spell, and I was beginning to view the world from a slightly new perspective. An inner shift was taking place. A transition…..and I wanted to touch it more fully.

I didn’t know much about meditation. I only knew that it required me to get still, close my eyes and notice. So that is what I did. On my bedroom floor. Each day.

For months I recall my foot falling so asleep from sitting cross legged that I had to wait before attempting to stand. I remember hearing about different techniques that I tried. Counting my breaths. Watching my belly. Finding that I could focus for a short time but then catching myself off in some faraway story. Bringing myself back. Over and over.

I was told it was beneficial to find a set time of day to sit. I chose 6:30 am.  

Over the years my practice evolved. I now sit on my bed on folded blankets facing out the window. The length of time has extended to a half hour. I can focus longer and catch myself quicker, yet the stories still do come. What has remained constant is the 6:30 am time slot and the every day. Every day. I mourn for it when there is that rare day where I must miss.

Meditation is like a bag of flour. When you want to bake cookies, you must go buy a bag of flour. It isn’t the flour that is the destination, it is the cookies. I want to be happy…..so I meditate. I want to feel fulfilled…..so I meditate. I want to feel more deeply connected to all that is…..therefore I meditate. Everything we seek is inside.

As I have reflected on my practice this week, I see that it is the still point of my day. The one scheduled time where everything else waits while I tend to me. It wouldn’t happen without the practice. I am worth it.

While sitting on Friday morning an inspiration came through (which is quite common). I should bring

back the popular ‘Month of Meditation.’ I ran them many times but have not in the last few years. It is time to launch it again as we enter a new month in a new year in a new decade. A way to learn to meditate, reinvigorate your current practice, or simply know you are meditating with a virtually connected group.

‘A New Year….. A New Habit!’ with run for the month of January. Thirty-one daily emails with instruction, guidance, tips and inspiration for meditating at least 10 minutes each day. The cost for the program will be $25. I will be sending out more details, but if you know you are in….send me a note!

As I sat this morning, I heard the rain and the early morning birds. When I had closed my eyes, it was still dark but when they reopened the new day had dawned. Staring back at me were my trees, now naked once again, showing me who they truly are. I shined back.

Getting to know who I really am,
SARAH

......sidestepping fear

Yogis,

It all began with a thought…..as most things do.

Hanging out at the creek with a friend this fall, she mentions the annual craft fair that our town holds each December.  I have always loved this event. With about 50 vendors it is a great place to find unique gifts, run into neighbors and begin getting into the holiday spirit. Wait a minute……what if I became one of the vendors!

Like a flash, I could suddenly see it. Me, behind a table, displaying my plant medicines. Tinctures, salves, and oils. Handing out my cards. Sharing with people the benefits of using what the earth provides to us each day as a path to wellness. Right then I pulled out my phone and sent an email to find out who handles the event and within 24 hours the table was rented, and I was on the vendor list! Wow, that was easy.

Over the next few weeks I began to think through what I would need to make to have enough without so much that I needed an empty closet at home for what didn’t sell. I was excited by the grand vision, but soon thoughts of those pesky details began trickling in.

I have been wanting to redesign my business card for about a year, but now action was needed.  Figure out exactly what my message is, select colors, find a printer and order. Done. But wait…..a business card only does so much. I should have a handout that gives a better picture of what I offer. Classes, workshops, pricing and maybe even a picture for a more personal touch. Back online I go. Breathe…..See myself explaining tinctures to someone.

Working with my oil products I notice that my labels at times smear, which is fine when selling to students and friends but may need an upgrade. Research uncovers waterproof labels but when I try to print on them my words are not even close to the center of the stickers. A plea sent out to the street for assistance is responded to with silence. Sigh. Breathe…..Visualize a customer walking away with a bag of products.

Word is that most vendors take credit cards. Ugh. Ok, Square I will finally bite the bullet. Sign up, order and learn to use (with a humble ask to the Universe for it to work that day). The inner voice ramps up as the date approaches. What about receipts? Bags, I need bags. A banner might look nice. Cash for change. Yikes, how will my display be set up? Exhale…..See someone trying my plantain balm.

Now, if back at the creek someone had told me that I would have to be designing cards, postcards and banners, creating signage and learning new technology, the registration form would most likely not have made it into the mail. Fear would have eased its way in. Fear of failing. Fear of making a mistake. Fear of stepping into the uncomfortable place of ‘new’. But this time I had unknowingly sidestepped fear.

I realized a lot. Our role in manifesting is actually simple. Uncover what you want, visualize the end result as if it is already here, and trust. Yes, the details and obstacles will arise, but if allowed into that initial vision, fear becomes like a coat that is too tight. It keeps us small. When fear arises, breathe and set your sights beyond.

As the words in the Cat Stevens song in my playlist reminded me, ‘…..don’t wear fear, or nobody

will know you’re there.’

I want them to know I’m there!

Seeing,
SARAH

.....rainbows and frogs

Yogis,

I find it humorous each year that we have a dedicated week of gratitude. The days surrounding Thanksgiving are overflowing with commercials, ads, shows and discussion around the dinner table on what each of us is thankful for. A wonderful tradition which gives us pause and allows us to notice, but then come Monday morning……not another word about it.

I am grateful for sunshine on my face.

During the holiday we name the large gifts we have in our lives. Family, health, friends and a warm home. The love and comfort around us that make us feel good inside. But if they were all to disappear, would your gratitude fade with them?

I am grateful for birds and the indescribable color blue of the sky on a clear day.

Gratitude is an energy of the heart and is part of you. Always. It need not have anything on the outside to create it and cause it to glow. It’s only ask is that you turn on the light located in the center of your chest and shine. On everything and on everyone as they are all gifts.

I am grateful for the obstacles and challenges which have pushed me to grow.

Stop right now, imagine a light shining out from inside and look around you. What can you spot that you are grateful for? Is it the fuzzy blanket over there that you use while you read? That favorite coffee mug, your down coat or the way the oranges look in the bowl on the counter? The view out the window, the music playing, the color red or the sound of the rain? Keep looking.

I am grateful for the feeling of dropping into a warm bath, the floating rose petals and the flame of the candle. For my tea, dark chocolate, rainbows (who doesn’t love rainbows!!), bubbles and goats. So grateful for my yoga mat, going barefoot and ice cream cones.

The more you shine your light, the brighter it becomes and the more you find to shine it on. Soon you notice that you no longer need anything to be ‘grateful for’ as you now ‘are gratitude’. Every day new. Each day amazing. Even the Monday after Thanksgiving…..

Sunflowers, sweaters and honey,
SARAH

.....I don't mind

Yogis,

Life is like a roller coaster. You are buckled in and still, yet the world rushes by. The scenery in constant flux from the changing of the seasons, to the movement of the hands on the clock. The flow of people in and out of life and the irritating ever changing rules of fashion. Nothing in the external world static. Everything impermanent.

And this is why we suffer…….

It matters not if our perception of the hill we are climbing is that of perfection, because in another moment we will crest the top with only that brief still point, before the stomach dropping fall begins. We suffer. If taking that sharp curve at a high rate of speed feels uncomfortable, wait a moment and that too will change. The track cares not if we ‘like it’ or not. It simply is.

Like the handlebar, we white knuckle that which we love and push away with all our might all we have deemed to be wrong. Both are impermanent and both actions cause us tension. Nothing static. Like the ride, life has a beginning and an end, and we can’t control the twists and turns no matter how hard we attempt to steer. It isn’t the ride that produces suffering, it is our resistance.

During the women’s retreat someone shared a quote they had read by J. Krishnamurti, the great Indian philosopher and spiritual teacher.  After sharing his messages for over fifty years he boiled it all down to one sentence.  "This is my secret," he said. "I don't mind what happens."

WHAT??? How can that be? How can someone possibly not mind when stuck in traffic, sick with the flu or having financial struggles? And what about all of the troubles in our country and the world? Does he not mind when someone screams in anger at him or steals his wallet? Or the hardest…..when someone close dies leaving a large hole in their place.

I don’t mind…….

The more I sat with this simple sentence the more I realize that it is indeed the simple center of the yogic teachings. That I am not my mind, not my body and not anything that passes by me in the external world. I am an eternal spirit on the ride of life in this particular car, and when I connect to that at its deepest level, nothing on the outside can cause me to suffer. That part of me is unchanging and doesn’t mind.

Notice how the quote is not “I don’t care.” And not "I don't feel." Empathy, compassion and right action are all noble traits and make a difference to those around us when done from stillness, buckled into the “I don’t mind” mind. The place of inner peace where we can observe the world without the stories, feeling joys and sorrow deeply yet undisturbed by that next loop that turns life upside down. Allowing each moment to be what it is.

That is the path……That is the practice……  I don’t mind.

I think I will try arms in the air this time,
SARAH

.....bones of the earth

Yogis

I spend most of my life on rocks.

My home was built in 1948 on top of an old quarry, which I am reminded of every time I stick my shovel in the dirt. Even though I will have planted a foot away, I still end up wrestling some massive buried rock until it finally breaks free, leaving me panting, sweaty and covered with dirt.  

I only have to walk down my path into the woods behind the house to view the beautiful old quarry face, now sprouting ferns and even small trees from its crevices. The creek bed that runs through is lined with broken rock and is home to quaint stone bridges and an old standing fireplace, reminiscent of a time gone by.  As I lie in bed, I am held by all this rock beneath me.

When I leave the house, it is often for my daily trips to the creek or river. Both also lined with rock. In fact, our entire town is mostly stone, with four quarries originally operating within not much more than a square mile. All the trails include rock scrambling and for those learning to rock climb there are even faces on which to practice with incredible views of the river. My feet know the ways of the rocks.

This week I watched as my feet walked across rocks, felt myself sitting on rocks, and noticed the multitude of rocks that I have found over time that now sit out on display in almost every room of the

house. Rocks ground me.

Luckily, I love rocks! I always have.

It was as I was sitting on a rock taking a picture of tree roots that my eyes became drawn to the rock bed I had just walked across. Every color, shape and size. Each unique. Each amazing when looked at from a different perspective.

In drum circle this week we were reminded by our teacher that rocks are the bones of Mother Earth. They hold the ancient knowledge. There are the grandmother and grandfather stones and are even the way we mark our own passing. Ah, the stories they could tell…….

Rocks are sturdy. Rocks are still. Rocks are quiet. Rocks are strong. They are dependable and solid. Many of the qualities we work to embed within ourselves. Rocks are our foundation.

Watch for the rocks in your life this week! I know there is at least one out there that will wave to you and be grateful for being noticed.

Written in stone,
SARAH

.....voice inside my head

Yogis,
The alarm goes off. Its dark outside and I am buried under my covers, snug and warm. “You could skip today. You probably didn’t get enough sleep and you could go for a walk later. It’s cold out there” says my inner voice in a convincing tone.  I take a deep breath, push the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. A few minutes later I am in my running clothes and out the door.

I have been observing the voice inside lately. You know the one I mean? The chatter in the head that speaks to you from the moment you wake until you drift off into dreamland. The one that has a comment or judgment on absolutely everything. And if you awaken in the middle of the night, well that’s when it has the most to say.

I am realizing that it gives me pretty much the same advice almost every morning. Never does the alarm go off and it yell, “Yay, it’s morning! Jump up and get out there and run!”  It’s as if it would like to derail me from my intentions. Why is that?

I’m sure the voice sounds slightly different in each of us. Probably varying accents, tones of voice and favorite topics. For some it loves to harp on doubt, for others its favorite pastime is guilt. It loves resentment and can speak endlessly on the subject of worry. And it is overjoyed to have you as its captive audience.

I have been watching as I come up with new ideas for workshops……”no one will want to come to that”……or contemplate writing a book……’that will be overwhelming and too much work.” Even simple things like when it is time to clean out a closet…….”you should wait until tomorrow.” Finally sitting down on the couch to rest……”you’re wasting time.” It clearly doesn’t like us to make changes, step forward or move outside of our comfort zone.

It is the mind’s job to protect us, but if we allow it to hold the reins we are like the child with a hovering parent. The one who isn’t allowed to do anything for fear it may get hurt. Stuck. Stagnant. Unable to move forward in our life’s purpose.

When, however, you become very quiet and still you can begin to hear another much softer voice. The one speaking from your soul. This voice knows you are always safe, perfect and quite capable of achieving anything you choose to pursue.  It moves forward with you.

The path to detaching from the boisterous mental chatter and tuning in to ‘you’ is meditation. An ancient practice that over time helps you step back and observe, and even smile at, the unrequested advice given by the mind. Tuning your frequency into the whisper of the deeper, often buried voice that wants you to be happy and free.

As I am running back up the street toward the house the sun is beginning to lighten the sky. An owl flies over head. My heart is beating in my chest and my breath chilled by the air. I feel awake and alive……and thankful yet again that I didn’t listen to the chatter.

What does your voice tell you? Notice.

Watching the noise,
SARAH

.....we fell in

Yogis,
On an exceedingly beautiful autumn weekend, four amazing women chose to ‘fall in’ with me. The bags have now been packed, cars loaded and they are down the road, yet their energy lingers. I can still hear their voices.

It always amazes me how a random group can gather and within 2 days a bond is formed. I witness it over and over as I attend training, retreats and gatherings, and was shown it clearly yet again this weekend. There is something about sharing meals, walks, feelings and chocolate that forms a glue, allowing each one of us to crack open a little more.

Together we prepared, served, ate and cleaned up five different meals…..not an easy chore, yet it felt seamless. Like an orchestra, each taking a role, the five of us moved through the kitchen with ease. This one setting the table, while another chopped and one stirring the pot. Creative ideas shared for use of leftovers and even the seeds from the butternut squash ended up roasted and in a bowl. Goddesses.

A walk off trail at the river pushed some out of comfort zones. For others, simply signing up a brave step.  We leaned on trees, found walnuts, identified plants and stood mesmerized by the rush of the river. Late in the day the fire was lit while the sun began its descent.  We each wrote what no longer serves us, to then offer to the flames. Transformed into smoke, not unlike the transformation some in the group were seeking. Wise women.

Our beverage of choice was nourishing herbal infusions and our plates wore every color imaginable. The orange of the squash, ruby red pomegranate seeds, tri color quinoa and vivid green fennel. Eating for this Vata (air) season, our breakfasts consisted of warm cooked grains paired with nuts, seeds, nutmeg and dates. The flatbread recipe I saw in a doctor’s office magazine on Wednesday became lunch and…..oh my gosh. An orgy for both the eyes and mouth. Medicine women.

I recently saw a picture of someone’s thumb and index finger holding a piece of paper in the air by its corner. The message was that the effort is in holding on. Letting go is effortless. This is where the name ‘Falling in…” was derived. Practicing surrender. That became our discussion, vision and mantra. Not easy, but then again, not hard.

The tea kettle was always warm, rituals began to become familiar and we dared to look into each other’s eyes. Each unique, yet as we soon discovered, all the same. “Falling in…..” is in the books!

Grateful,
SARAH

PS I'm sorry but does anyone else feel like this day is going to go on forever?

.....gifts

Yogis,
For the last few months we have been under a drought. Weeks with no rain at all, and then when it would arrive, a few drops later it would move along. I knew the river was extremely low but I haven’t been spending time down there with all of my daily creek visits. This week, however, I had a slow day and announced to Phoebe that we were off to the river, much to her delight.  

When we arrived, my favorite rock I sit on by the water’s edge was now yards back from shore. Whole new paths uncovered and islands which are typically unreachable without a boat, now accessible by foot. So off we went!

The next two hours flew by as we hopped from rock to rock, crawled under fallen trees and sat on the perfect seat made by the trunk of the sycamore tree which I have often photographed from afar. A young mullein plant graced my path and I found a face in a rotting log observing us as we traveled.

Phoebe often showed me the best path from island to island with her keen sense of direction. We explored, finding beautiful shells and the intricate pattern of tree roots which live in the river, but now reach only into air. Wildflowers, hidden ponds and clear evidence that the deer had been through recently. All of this on land which is almost always feet under water.

When it was time to leave and we had hiked back to shore I turned to say thank you…..but then my heart opened even more as I saw the islands ablaze in reds and golds and realized what a gift I had been given. These precious hours in this amazing place.

I looked up various definitions of ‘gift’ and the one that came closest to what I felt was – something bestowed without any particular effort by the recipient. The Universe had indeed bestowed.

This weekend I had my grandson with me. Whenever he arrives, he first wants to play fire trucks, but then his next question is when we are going to the creek. I have always taken him there and he too has fallen in love. But yesterday I convinced him to come to the river.

Another two hours…..rock throwing, getting close to the plants with the camera, becoming still to watch the small fish swim by and hearing the flocks of birds fill the tree tops. We noticed that the slower we moved, the more we noticed. Standing still in one spot we witnessed spiders, crickets, hidden flowers and the leftovers from a squirrels walnut eating lunch break.

Gifts are meant to be shared and by giving we receive back again! What joy to see the river a second time through the eyes of a 4-year-old. Two gifts in one week!

As we wrapped up our second day together, I was reminded of another gift I have received……yoga. If it weren’t for my yoga practice I don’t know that I could have gotten up and down from the floor probably 40 times, scrambled rocks, crawled under the dining room table to the ‘fire station’ and played endless games of pretend baseball in the yoga studio without injuring myself. Thank you, Universe!

We never know when gifts are going to arrive…… and often the best ones do not come in the mail.

Each moment a chance for something amazing,
SARAH

......this is not mine

Yogis,

Yesterday I led a yin workshop with the theme of letting go. In our hectic world this has become a much talked about, written about, taught about topic with courses, meditations and self-help books all available to supposedly teach us how to do it. But at it’s core, what does it really mean to let go?

Autumn is the season which shows us how letting go looks. Fall, filled with loss, clearly displays impermanence. How nothing (with one exception) remains the same. Oh, how that law of the universe makes us suffer. And there is no better role model within autumn for us to look up to, than the tree.

Imagine being a tree. Throughout the entire spring, summer and early fall it is your leaves that keep you alive. Every day these leaves work, reaching for the sun to draw in its energy and convert it to nourishment. However, once the days become shorter the tree must turn its attention inward to prepare for hibernation. Without hesitation, in a celebration bursting with color it begins to let go of those life-giving leaves. Every single leaf allowed to blow off in a breeze.

The tree doesn’t hold on to the ones that bring back memories. Nor the ones that have a high value. It doesn’t only send off those that are worn and tired or hold each one up and ask if it still brings joy. No….it allows all of them to fall.  Knowing that it is not only fine, but necessary to empty at times.

Our minds make this all a little more complicated. The list of things we cling to is long. Possessions, anger, the past, control, other people, expectations and perhaps the most challenging – thoughts and beliefs. We attach to all of them as if they define who we are. The tree knows that the leaves are not her and don’t ‘belong’ to her. She is secure in her sense of self.

This is not mine……

We arrive in this world with only the human body the encases us, and we will leave the same way. In between we will accumulate, cling to and proclaim that objects, people, property, beliefs are ‘mine’, but how silly that all truly is. They are simply spending time with us, but all are impermanent, none can be ‘owned’ and they can be swept away in a blink of the eye. Oh, how that makes us suffer.

You can only lose what you cling to   ~ Buddha

I was up at my parents last week to celebrate my father’s 85^th birthday and my mom and I had a conversation we have often. As the two of us travel through the different decades of life, we agree that we never feel any different inside. The body has changed a bit, different clothes, changes to the houses, evolving beliefs, but deep inside those same young girls live untouched. The soul that arrived at birth and will someday merge back is the one constant. The only thing worth holding as ‘mine’.

Everything else, like the leaves, should be enjoyed and loved wholeheartedly, but let go of effortlessly whenever it is time. One cannot try to let go……one needs only to let go. No book can teach us that. We must go inward, like the tree, to find this one truth.

This is not mine,
SARAH

....oh deer

Yogis,

My soul plant is Mullein. My soul color is brown. My soul animal is the deer….and this is their time of year.

As the sun begins setting earlier and the air cools, the deer reemerge in force to feed and prepare for both winter and mating season, also called rutting season.  Rutting season spans late September through November with the peak being October and fawns arriving in May and June. Suddenly deer seem to be everywhere! In the yard, in open fields and running in front of your car at dusk.

Last Friday as I walked Phoebe down our block at 5 am it looked like a deer parade. Every few steps a doe would stick her head out from behind a bush with those wide-open eyes and ears pointing skyward, acting utterly shocked that a human would be there. In one yard a doe stood with her two young ones intently watching us pass only to be startled when we literally almost bumped into them on at the curve in the street on the return. Where did you come from, they seemed to ask?  Deer me!

This week the deer parties have begun in earnest. Opening the front door first thing in the morning exposes a herd in the front yard eating acorns from our old magnificent oak. All heads rise in unison, snapping to attention, kind of like being a teenager and having your parents walk in at that inopportune moment. Oh, deer me!

Late this summer a sign was posted at our creek that for the first time, deer bow hunting by marksmen was going to occur beginning in September. As you can imagine this has generated some heated discussions online both in favor and against. Reading through them I discovered that there are the deer lovers and then the not so much group, with complaints ranging from car collisions to missing tops of plants to the general I don’t want wildlife in my yard (which is a newly evolving suburban group).

I’m clearly in the deer lover camp. To me they are the most docile, sweet, innocent, beautiful creatures who never intend harm to anyone or any other creature. How many of us can say that? Their ‘over population’ mainly has been caused by us building more and larger homes, pools, paved driveways and stores on what was their home. Then we place delicious food in the yard and are surprised when they partake. Oh deer…..

I have never battled them in the garden. The plants which I find never making it to adulthood, I replace with something else less appealing to their taste buds. I plant more herbs and medicinal plants vs the ornamentals that seem to be at the top of their menu picks. When they do munch, I remind myself that the plants aren’t ‘mine’ and that the deer and I both deserve to share in the bounty of mother earth. And surprisingly I have discovered that the haircut they give the black eyed susans each spring cause each chewed end to produce multiple stalks for an ocean of yellow come summer. 

So, I am more than fine cohabitating on this land with the deer. When they look me in the eye it is as if they can see my soul and I always give them a wave. This fall I have been telling them to stay put and not venture down to the creek. I hope they are listening…….

All are welcome,
SARAH

......a different view

Yogis,
Fall appears to finally be gracing us with her presence. My walks on the creek trails are now crunchy with fallen leaves. It’s also that time to be mindful of the black walnut balls scattered on the ground so as not to sprain an ankle, as well as those plummeting down from above with such force that I swear they could knock you out if they hit you just right.

My garden too suddenly looks fall like. The colors are changing and flower heads browning. The decline and inevitable death of this year’s plants has begun in earnest. Everything looking a bit worn and tattered.

There is an impulse that wells up to begin ‘tidying up’. To clip off the bug eaten leaves, remove the spent flowers and pull up the tired annuals. Wanting to leave only what is green, alive and vibrant. As humans we don’t tend to do well with the signs of death. Perhaps in some way it reminds us that we too will have our fall. Pulling back our own wrinkles and covering our age spots.

These last few days I have gone out to nature with my camera to look at death from a different view. To see if even in dying I can find the beauty. What I found was perfect…….. 

I walked quietly and without purpose allowing my eyes to move slowly from thing to thing, watching my mind judge and then exhaling to allow those preconceptions to fade. Seeing everything with new eyes. Seeing the world exactly as it is. It began with a leaf chewed through leaving behind an intricate design of shapes and swirls, like an artist’s stencil.

The sunflower’s petals now more like colorful streamers, her head still faces skyward. The crowd of black eyed susans clearly demonstrating how they came by their name and butterfly weed seeds carried as if on wings. A cracked open beech nut (which means a happy squirrel) like a sculpture.

Down at the creek the brown leaves lying beneath the water’s edge look like a well-planned painting. The echinacea flower appears dried and dead until you look very closely and realize that instead what you are seeing are the waiting seeds, each one holding the potential of a whole new life.

Even in the house there is beauty in the falling if you stay open to it. Red roses that had brought us such joy during teacher training began to wilt and bow their heads. I snipped them off the stems and have them in a bowl as a centerpiece on the table. Eventually their dried petals will add color and scent to my bath salts.

And by allowing the natural life cycle to occur without my intervention, the birds and small animals know they will find food and shelter in the brown of my garden. Nature doing her job well.

Life holds beauty in each and every stage…..if you take a different view.

Seeing the perfection,
SARAH

.....sunny lemon balm

Yogis,
I heard a new weather term today – ‘flash drought’. Supposedly that it was what we are in right now in the Washington DC area. It’s scientific definition is a drought that comes out of nowhere and isn’t on anyone’s radar. You really have to laugh sometimes.

The entire month of September saw only .11 inches of rain, which I can attest to by how many hours I stood in front of my garden with the hose nozzle directed at all of my plant friends.  My arm would start to ache, although I will say it did give me the chance to notice each and every one of them individually as I assessed their particular moisture needs.  But even with my tender care everyone is drying out.

Add to that the small herd of deer that has set up camp in the woods directly behind me. At night when I’m getting in bed I can hear them stirring and picture them heading right for the garden under the cover of darkness. Mornings I now find entire arms of my Mexican sunflowers missing and my poor Clary Sage took a real beating this week.

I knew I better get serious about making any final plant medicines while I had the chance! This week I was blessed to spend a couple of days with delightful lemon balm………

When anyone asks me about lemon balm my immediate response is that she is like the sun. When life is suddenly feeling a little dreary, things feel sort of stuck, and your spirits are low, that is where she shines! Her presence is like the parting of the heavy dark clouds that at times inevitably make their way through.

Lemon balm is in the mint family (remember square stems). She is a lovely light green simple looking upright clumping plant who blooms small white flowers and returns year after year with very minimal care. Her seeds will often germinate additional plants close by or at times halfway across the yard. She is even happy in a pot. In fact she always seems happy!

Throughout the summer I place her cuttings in vases throughout the house and she adds a delightful flavor to your water. This week I sat with her to make both an infused oil which I will use in salves (my first time which is exciting) and then the next day I chopped her leaves and stems to soak in brandy for a tincture. Strong, yet gentle medicine.

Simply being around her brightens my day! That’s the joy of plant medicine. Brushing my hair back from my face the aroma of lemon on my hands is intoxicating. No one can inhale her scent and not find a smile on their face.  But when life calls for a little more help she is right there. Some drops of the tincture under the tongue or in water each day can work wonders. And what I have noticed is that when I forget to take her……it means she has done her job. The sun is once again shining!

Lemon balm is also used for anxiety, stress, stomach upset and insomnia. Her influence is calming and cheerful. As the days get shorter in this often melancholy season of fall, if you decide you might like to meet or try her in a tincture, let me know. I would be happy to introduce you!

The forecast is for sunny days ahead,
SARAH

......never lonely

Yogis,

I am alone a good portion of each day. No longer in a corporate job, I have no office to go to in the morning.  As I get older, I don’t enjoy shopping much so besides a short weekly trip to the coop, my food is my CSA share with most of my other needs met by the brown boxes of Amazon and alike. My car sits idle and I am in silence.

Yet I never feel lonely……I was reminded of this while out in the garden.

If you are a gardener or spend time with plants you know what I mean when I say that each plant has a personality. Some are silly, like lemongrass, while others are more serious, like sage. Rosemary is no nonsense where mint is a free spirit. And hard to find anyone gentler and kinder than lavender. When I am with them all I am surrounded by friends. They surprise me each day.

Then there are the bugs. Of course, the butterflies fluttering around me, but the bees who bump into me in their zest to reach the goldenrod and the red beetle convention that is held annually on the dying butterfly weed. The earthworms as I dig and the occasional praying mantis who stares and uses that front arm to let me know who’s boss. I know them all.

There is the wind. Oh, the wind. When a breeze rushes through and brushes my skin, I feel hugged. At times gently and other times feeling as if I am being swept off my feet. Dancing with and leaning into the arms of wind. A gift.

The sun’s rays give me warmth while winking and daring me to try something new. To be uncomfortable. When the luminous rays of the moon shine on me, she reminds me that I am a sensual being, making me feel alive. They both make me tingle.

The frog I almost stepped on yesterday made me laugh and when the hummingbird bathed in the spray from my hose, her innocent sweetness made my heart fill with joy. They lighten my day.

Human companionship is incredible, but when it isn’t possible, or perhaps you’ve had too much, remember that all of the Universe wants to befriend you. As I wrote the above, it became clear that we are never alone……and most certainly should never feel lonely.

Under the ever watchful eye of the trees,
SARAH

......butterflies

Yogis,

You’ve probably noticed I have an affinity for butterflies……..

Picture this. A land where there is a time of year where towering trees are so thick with water filled leaves that you can’t even see beyond. Much of the ground covered with a thick lush carpet of green, soft on the toes. All around you stalks have risen from the ground, all different heights, reaching for the sun with their vibrant colored heads. The air filled with the melodies of animals sitting in the trees.

As if that wasn’t enough, nature created fairy tale creatures with wings stamped by vibrant colors, who flutter through the air with grace. Their pattern a zigzag so as to appear like a falling leave. Wow. Universe you have outdone yourself. How amazing are butterflies!

While originally creating my medicine wheel garden, I knew I wanted them to play a role. I researched which plants draw them in. Echinacea, sunflowers, black eyed susans, zinnias and one of their personal favorites, butterfly weed, all found a home in the wheel. This year I added one more, mexican sunflower, a late blooming vibrant orange floor that I grew from seed, for which they seem most grateful.

You can get a sense of the health of a local environment by its butterfly population. As pollinators, along with the bees, they are crucial in our ability to enjoy fruits and vegetables. They then feed on rotting fruit and decaying corpses, acting as a clean up crew. Being low on the food chain they also provide nourishment to others and help by eating many weedy plants. Butterflies are necessary.

The next time you refer to someone as a ‘social butterfly’, thank the butterfly, because indeed they are. Over the years I have taken hundreds of pictures and learned that if I approach with an open heart, they respond in kind. Flying close they allow me to get within a couple of inches to photograph them, even accidentally landing on my orange shirt. At this distance I can see the intricacies and injuries to their wings, of which there are plenty.

I find ones with holes, missing half a wing or the bottom frilly edges in tatters, not unlike our summer clothes by the end of the long season. If I pay close attention, I can begin to tell them apart by these unique markings.

And how can you tell a moth from a butterfly? Get close….. The antennae of a butterfly are like two straight poles with bulbs at the end. A moth’s antennae are feathery. Both drink freely of the nectar with their extendable proboscis, a site well worth observing.

And all of this before even discussing their unimaginable ability to completely transform themselves from one creature to another while held in a capsule of their own creation! Butterflies symbolize change, hope and rebirth. A representation of our soul. Reminding each of us as they flutter by that you can indeed be whatever it is that you choose to become.

I am listening……

Butterflies make life brighter,
SARAH