....being winter

Yogis,
Each season carries its own energy. The cool wet playfulness of spring, with her burst of forward energy asks us to let down our hair and sing. Summer, ruled by the fire of the sun, offers fullness and abundance and a chance to manifest our dreams. The winds of fall on which leaves travel, signal a time to shed unnecessary layers and trust in divine order. Then there is winter.

This week winter finally arrived here in the mid Atlantic. A full week of dipping temperatures and bracing winds that had me pulling out the ‘serious’ coat. The one I save for true winter for fear that if I start wearing it too early, I will have no back up plan for the days when wind chills become part of the weatherman’s forecast. I am glad winter is here.

As someone who grew up on the east coast with four reliable seasons year after year, I would feel lost if somehow one went missing. Incomplete. As if I was on a four country tour and inflight to the final destination the pilot announced that he had decided to take us home instead. Disappointed.

The energies of winter are cold, heavy, quiet and still and this week they were all on display. Where less than two weeks ago we had a day with kids riding their bikes in short sleeves and neighbors chatting in front yards, this week whenever I opened the door I saw nothing. Nada. Quiet. Still. And cold.

It takes the cold to convince us to go inside, both literally and figuratively. To stop doing and begin being. And when we do the mind, over time, also begins to slow and become quiet. We become more aware. In tune with what is here.

As I ventured out, bundled in my trusty coat and new neck gator (a winter upgrade!) I noticed that with the world so still, anything that does appear can’t help but be noticed in this crystal-clear air against a dull grey background. A handsome bright red cardinal lands under my faded blue birdbath in the garden. The plump berries on the holly tree attract the attention of a flock of robins. The wind and I both howled under the glow of the full Wolf moon seen rising through bare trees.

In the quiet, where the usual cacophony of noises is not competing for our attention, each sound becomes distinct. Heard. The ruckus of the crows as they argue overhead. A startling throaty squawk from a gangly blue heron who lifts from the ground effortlessly under the power of his immense wings. Windchimes. The packing down of snow under my boots and my own breath under my scarf. The clickety-clack of bare branches colliding, like an instrument being played by old man winter.

Winter represents death. As I look to my garden I know that all life underground is resting. The roots and seeds lie quiet and still as they nurture themselves. They understand the energy that will be required of them come spring to push their way through the hardened ground as new life. Winter also represents the beginning.

These energies of nature are also found within us as we are not separate, and we need them all for wholeness. The four seasons create the perfect circle of life and every year they give us another opportunity to practice it within ourselves. I am finally getting better at this winter thing.

It has only taken 59 years,
SARAH

.......little joys

Yogis,
Sometimes I catch myself putting my head down and plodding from day to day. Without awareness, life becomes rote. It starts to feel like the routines and commitments are what define us and can leave me feeling a little bit numb. Is this it?

One activity I find helpful when I find myself stuck in this energy is to do a week in review. Sitting quietly to watch a rerun of my life. I notice that when watched from a distance, all of the little unexpected joys suddenly leap out from my inner screen. Take this past week for example.

I went into it expecting quiet. No plans on the calendar (nothing new there). Regular class schedule, cooking dinners and caring for Phoebe who is recovering from acl surgery. Monday at lunch time I open the front door for a walk and find a box in my path. The label indicates flowers within and I double check before opening to be sure they are indeed at the right home.  A spectacular bouquet of farm flowers greets me with a card from my sister. She wanted me to know she was thinking of me. How awesome is that!

The owl continued to serenade us each evening. When I hear the call, I rush to the window, humbled to be in her company.

Tuesday night my son reaches out with an urgent request. Could they stay with us for a few days while the floors in their ongoing kitchen renovation are stained? Beginning in the morning. I quickly get the bedrooms ready, set out towels and make a soup. Suddenly our overly quiet home transforms with four workspaces, online school, a crib and the exuberant energy of children.  Woken in the morning by eager eyes peering in on me and whispers of ‘are you awake Nana?’ The possibility of a shower becomes a mere wish but smelling them as I hug them good night makes my heart smile.

A friend gifted me an amaryllis bulb for Christmas and I have watched the stalk growing on my front window ledge for the past three weeks. And grow and grow and grow. Friday morning, she catches my eye and my breath with a stunning white bloom. Layers of luscious white petals inviting you into her center. A goddess.

Friday afternoon it’s on to the beach for a quiet weekend….but wait. My other son asks if he and his fiancé can come to check out a potential wedding venue. Once again, setting up bedrooms and gathering food. The weekend was frigid, so we spend much of it gathered around the glow of the fireplace. The comforts of the familiar smell and crackling wood the ideal backdrop for discussion and perfectly grilled tuna.  

On a walk to the beach in the late afternoon, the ocean acts as a mirror reflecting the setting sun which sits on my shoulder.  The half moon and little dipper. Blooms on my Lenten rose…..the first sign that spring will indeed come once again.  Evidence of a beaver at the river as I search the sky for a rare bird with a friend.

Yes, I still taught all of my classes, made dinners and spent considerable time caring for Phoebe, but what stands out are the unexpected moments of joy which shine when the light of awareness is pointed their way. They are always there…..if we lift our head up.

A week in review a nice habit to fall into,
SARAH

....I would never hurt you

Yogis,
This morning I paused on my run to rest in my trusty tree seat. The path around me quiet as most people seemed to be still huddled in the warmth of their homes on this lazy winter Sunday. I imagined them, hands wrapped around mugs, wool socks on their feet. The sound of newspaper pages being turned.

The sky was early morning gray and the landscape more shades of brown than are imaginable. The river running next to me finally that olive green that she becomes in the dead winter cold. I turn my head to the right and see her. How had I missed her? She is lying down, her colors blended so perfectly with the tree behind her that they appear to be one. Only the white encircling her eyes which are now set on me, gives her away. She too appears to be wondering how she could possibly have not seen me. A thin strip of river separates us.

I wave hello. She considers but feels the need to stand up. To get a better look perhaps. Sense my intentions. I say good morning and tell her how beautiful she is. I ask if she is over there alone. Where is your family? As if on cue, four more deer reluctantly lift up from the brush where they were resting. I wave again, sorry to have disturbed them. I would never hurt you…….

But we do.

This week I have been feeling a deep sorrow over our treatment of the earth and her creatures. As our mother she gives us everything we need. Our food. Our clothing. Our shelter. Warmth. Water. Beauty.  I watch as we take, and take, and take, and take with no end in sight. Where is the relationship? She must be so tired.

I am reminded of when my boys were adolescents. A necessary stage of life where children begin to pull away to find their independence. A time devoted to developing a sense of me. Separation, necessary for personal growth. But as the mom it is a challenging time. Adolescents take and take and take, and yet are still always irritated with you. Mom is the supplier but should be quiet the rest of the time. At times it is emotionally draining.

I can still remember though, going alone to visit my oldest in college during his senior year. It was time for me to head home and I was parked a few blocks away. He insisted on walking me to my car. I said good-bye but he waited while I got in, made sure the car started and watched as I drove away. I had tears in my eyes. It was the first moment where I knew he was transitioning to adult. He was now giving back. A full relationship.

I listened to an interview of Francis Weller who discussed how we have become a society stuck in adolescence. Me, me, me. Our metrics of success all driven by personal accomplishment. The American dream. It struck a chord. And I don’t have to venture far from my front door to see its effects. Roads widening so we aren’t inconvenienced by traffic. Trees coming down to make way for larger homes. Insects being sprayed. The list goes on and on…..

We all say we want to change the trajectory, but until we round the bend into adulthood where the needs of another come before our own, it is only a wish. The government cannot fix this. We must do the work. Awakening to the realization that what we do to earth we are doing to ourselves.  

I would never hurt you…….

Om,
SARAH

Happy New Day

Yogis,
Each January 1^st I look forward to one of my rituals. It begins with taking down my paper calendar from the wall in preparation for the new one. For many years I sat on the floor going through the well worn pages seeing a complete year in review. Reliving the boy’s school activities, sports events and major milestones. Remembering the parties, workshops and vacations….all noted within blocks outlined in black.

With the arrival of electronic calendars, what I find written on my pages at year’s end has dwindled but I still love the turning of the page each month, watching time and the phases of the moon pass by. Last year though, I glanced over at my calendar in May and found that it was still turned to March. Time had stopped in mid-March. I moved it to May. Last week when I took it down, it still showed May. How symbolic….

I then love opening the new calendar. Pulling the cellophane off, each page so crisp, clear and clean. A freshness which begs for grand visions and hope. There is a distinct energy on New Year’s Eve and Day. An excitement for new. And like millions around the world, I contemplate what I want to place on those empty pages. Talk of resolutions and goals surround me.

Yet year after year, about 3 weeks later, when the holiday glitz has faded and the day to day schedules are again entrenched within the cold gray backdrop of January, we forget (although this year it only took until January 6.)  Of course, we do. Setting a resolution or goal for an entire year on a particular day you are told you should, is a recipe for disappointment. We have it all wrong.

I look at my new calendar as I place it on the wall. Each and every day clear and distinct. Its own box, not mixed with the one before or the one to follow. Each day set apart.

It hits me. Instead of Happy New Year…… every day we should be greeting each other with Happy New Day!

Every single day is unique and offers us a blank canvas on which to create. Each morning as our eyes open and we swing our feet to the floor we are presented with unlimited possibilities! Hello New Day! What shall I manifest in this wide open space of life that I have been gifted! I see myself within the block on the calendar surrounded by white and feeling my way into what I would like to place there. Like a dance. Swaying my hips to the beat of what I want to create. And then I get to do it all over again tomorrow…..and the day after…..and the day after……

You may argue that your calendar is already full. Doctor’s appointments, work meetings, lunch with a friend. Remember that you placed them there. These are all choices. Who knows? You may wake and opt to reschedule the doctor in order to take a hike. The work meeting may end up cancelled or you might leave your job.

If there is anything 2020 clearly demonstrated, it is that those things we thought weren’t possible can in the blink of an eye be turned upside down. Living now in ways we never imagined.  What else is possible? These are your days to do with them as you choose. Life lies wide open.

What is asked of you? Relax……. Believe…… Dream……… Envision…….. and trust. The Universe is eagerly awaiting your directions. So grateful!

Happy New Day everyone!
SARAH

.....I am a painter

Yogis,
I am a painter. You probably didn’t know that about me because I have never painted.

Well, not never, if you count those rectangular gold plastic cases with a clear lid that included five circles of watercolor paint and a skinny brush. Do you remember those? The type you would get in a goodie bag at birthday parties or maybe from the dentist or at a fair. I distinctly remember using those a couple of times, I guess about fifty year ago.

In fact, I don’t even draw. If I doodle it will always be some simple geometric shapes or perhaps a daisy. My childhood memories are of drawings I had done in school where no one could correctly guess what it was.  I decided early on I was a terrible artist and I never looked back.

Fast forward to this past year. 

I was giving a friend a tour of my medicine wheel garden. She, on the other hand, is an incredible artist and was filling me in on her current projects. At one point she said, ‘Every time I see one of the photos you post of your flowers, I want to paint them’. I felt a little stir inside. A message.  Maybe I should be doing that, it said. I could suddenly see it.

When asked what I wanted for Christmas I remembered that inner voice. Paints, brushes, apron and easel all went on my list. Really?....everyone asked. This week I unpacked it all and figured out how to set up the easel. Then the old mind tried to get involved. What if I am terrible at it? What if I don’t enjoy it? What was I thinking? Now everyone is going to expect me to paint…..

But that’s the whole point….I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. I had a desire to paint and was listening, without concern for other’s opinions or the fences my mind was already trying to construct. This is how intentions should begin. From a stir within.

I realize I know nothing! Fear forming of sitting in front of blank paper.

I am a painter.

I know it’s time to take a baby step. Walking the woods, I pick up a pinecone, oak leaf and some holly. My new subjects. I set everything up, sit down, place my brush in the water and take a deep breath. Here I go. Soon I am painting!

I believe at least you can probably tell what they are, but best of all, I enjoyed it! I have already picked up some other objects in nature that I am now envisioning placing on paper.

As we begin this New Year, skip the resolutions and replace them with intentions. Those inner longings that often are ignored for the more practical or expected. Those things, feelings, ideas or change that you want to manifest in your life. They can be anything. Anything.

Intentions are impulses you send out to the Universe. Once uncovered, place each one in a short simple positive statement in the present and release it. Stating it as if it has already manifested. Then seeing it. Visualizing yourself and how it will be once it is here, with faith and trust. Like seeds they will grow.

I am a painter.

When I want to grow a zinnia, I plant a zinnia seed,
SARAH