.....time travel

Yogis,
It was summer 1988.  I was twenty-six years old and carrying my second son. A coworker had been singing the praises of a vacation in the Outer Banks of NC, so we convinced a few couples to come, loaded the car and headed down for a week. We fell in love and haven’t missed a summer since.

The group quickly grew and to give you a sense, this year there were 58 of us spread across six houses. Today I returned from my 34^th  trip…..

In those early days we were the young ones. All in our twenties and thirties we arrived each summer pregnant or with young ones in tow. Figuring out the best way to get babies to nap on the beach so we didn’t have to miss the prime time of day. Eager for the one evening we could escape parental duties to sit at an oyster bar and drink margaritas. Windows down on the ride back with the Cranberries blaring from the radio, while that year’s poor designated driver had to tolerate our shrieks of laughter for the half hour ride home.

Those babies quickly became teenagers while our attention turned to keeping a watchful eye over them. Handling the irate neighbor whose window was broken by an errant water balloon. Keeping count of the number of beers in the downstairs fridge and tracking down our coolers when they went missing. Knowing they were right in the neighborhood, yet still not falling into deep sleep until we heard them thundering up the stairs and pouring themselves late night bowls of cereal.

The years flew by as we shared stories of college applications, girlfriends/boyfriends and first jobs. Summers of sharing wedding pictures and catching up on who lives where. The little ones who slept in playpens on the beach now living in Alaska, Texas, Nashville. More mature each time we walk over that dune.

Now those babies have babies…..

In our group this year there were 15 kids under the age of 6. Their parents now the ones in their twenties and thirties with more modern beach gear, yet the same joys and challenges.

And we are now the grandparents.

Sitting in my beach chair watching each day’s scene unfold is like going back in time. The big hole dug each morning. The little ones standing on their boogie boards and eating twizzlers. Keeping an eye on the one who likes to run away. Sandcastles and sandy late afternoon melt downs. Yet now we aren’t in charge as we return to our discussions on retirement and where we will be traveling this winter.

On the car ride home today my son and I listened to a podcast and there was a discussion on time travel. Most people who wish they could do it would choose to go back in time to make changes. To me, this annual ritual we have collectively created in the OBX is an annual going back in time. Watching it all happen once more…..but not wishing to change a thing.

As for traveling to the future? All I have to do is wait another 358 days.

Traveling through time,
SARAH

.....please don't kill the bugs

Yogis,
It’s echinacea season! Also called coneflower, echinacea is a summer classic. Her large daisy shaped flowers come bathed in brilliant pinks, oranges and yellows and its easy to lose yourself in her spiral. For those who prefer order though, tidiness is not her style. She reaches, leans, blocks the path and peeks from behind nearby plantings. I personally love her messiness.

And so do the bugs……

I sat with my echinacea for a half hour one steamy late afternoon and watched her life. She has quite the busy social calendar. Bees adore her. From the tiniest to the large fuzzy ones with legs covered in pollen, they fly from blossom to blossom, heads buried deep. Butts sticking up in the air.

Then of course there are the butterflies. Large swallowtails and several varieties of smaller butterflies flutter threw with grace. This one posed and I swear gave me a little smile.

As I kept sitting quietly though, I noticed the smaller insects who too are drawn to her beauty. A fly who used her petals as a look out. A vivid green cricket who would have been easy to miss as he was the size of my pinkie fingernail. A small brown bug that I have never seen before and honestly couldn’t tell which end was which.

An earthworm slithered up from the ground where I had my hand placed and only a few inches away an army of ants worked on a worm that had died, taking on the critical role of clean up. We need them all.

Over this past month I have had four different clean shaven well dressed young man come to the door to sell me outdoor pest control. Not indoor…..outdoor. Seems to be the new push to grow market share. So no longer are we only killing the bugs in the house, but now you too can ‘create an insect barrier around your property perimeter.’

This all started with the mosquito spraying. It then moved onto ticks. Now the ants and spiders who lurk in our bushes and lawns are the enemy. Gnats……gone. Centipedes…..no more.

With each young man I had the same conversation. They would give their pitch and I would say I wasn’t interested. Then they asked ‘is it because you don’t want chemicals on your yard?’. I know their next line would be how natural and organic what they spray to kill things is. But I really don’t want to hear that. I look them in the eye and tell them I like bugs on my property. That in fact I plant things to attract them. With that they leave…..

The world outside your door is the bug’s home. Its all they have and with our sprawl we keep taking more of it.  And without them, there are no frogs. Without frogs there are no snakes. Without snakes we become overrun with rodents. No bugs….no birds. You get the idea. Insects are the basis of the food chain and without them we literally cannot live.

Remember the phrase ‘Every creature great and small?’ Each bug has a purpose. They were put here, just as you and I were. With intention. It isn’t our role to decide which stay and which don’t. Not to mention the poor birds and chipmunks whose homes are inadvertently drowned in spray.

Don’t buy into the fear.  In your home – yes if necessary (although sealing your home is a far healthier approach). In nature – please consider saying no as they ring your doorbell.

Studies are showing that insects are declining 2.5% a year,
SARAH

....what does it look like

Yogis,
The feeling in the air is that everything should be getting back to ‘normal.’ Over these last few weeks even I have been getting this internal nudge to begin planning for in person classes. On the outside that sounds so simple. Repost the schedule and open the doors!

But life isn’t that simple…….

Someone reminded me of our last week in the studio. At the end of class while everyone is blissfully lying in savasana, I go around with lavender oil and give head massages. Some people joke that this is the reason they come to my classes. By mid March we are all talking about the looming news while I continued to offer everyone this moment of pure peace. I get an email the next morning that perhaps the head rubs should pause for now. A day later I shut down all classes.

For these past sixteen months I have been teaching virtually. After the initial awkwardness and technology hiccups it began to find its rhythm…..and its blessings. During a time where we were all isolated, the yoga sangha gathered online each day to move, breathe and meditate. Checking in on each other, telling stories and sharing laughs. A new type of community formed.

This way of teaching allowed me to spend four days at the beach every other week. To not skip a beat the two weeks I was up with my parents, their living room transforming into yoga space. Friends and family from other states could join in and everyone could look at the clock and see a class was starting in five minutes and decide to jump on in. No traffic. No babysitters. Dinner in the oven.

And I could teach more classes…..and add in ones that are only 45 minutes.

Yet on the other side, there is that visceral energy of a group in a room, breathing and moving in unison. Physical touch. Candles. Essential oils…..and of course the head rub.

Wanting both. But what does that look like?

I have been struggling with this. My own inner dialogue discussing pros and cons. Options and opportunities. Trying to ‘plan’ an outcome. Map it all out. Not working very well…

I finally sent a note out to all students this week, letting them know where I am sixteen months later (changed) and asking where they are. Responses have begun to trickle in. Everything from ‘I want it exactly the way it was’ to ‘I only want virtual.’ Sigh.

Sending out that note, like this blog post, always feels to me as if I am handing over my inner thoughts, dialogue and questions to the universe. Like shouting into a canyon, and then waiting for the echo which I know will inevitably come. It may come today, tomorrow, or in another month. Trust and patience for guidance which has never let me down. Loosening my grip on the reins of life.

Since the note was sent, I have begun bumping into students as I run, walk and pull weeds down in the community garden. Someone even joked that I am holding outdoor office hours.  People I haven’t seen in sixteen months suddenly in my path, and I in theirs. Clear signs that I am not alone in designing this new ‘yoga normal.’ Guidance will come and all will be exactly as it is supposed to be…..

Thank you Universe,
SARAH

....from the mouth of babes

Yogis,
I have returned from my 37^th June week at the Jersey shore. Days spent on arguably one of the most beautiful beaches and evenings hosting casual dinners for 15 to 25 family members. One of those family members is my grandson Johnny and at five years old he is quite wise……

Don’t Help

One morning he and I were watching a show on both the magnificence and challenges of our planet. It began with some disheartening descriptions and videos of vanishing lakes and melting glaciers. Dwindling species and a rising thermometer. But…..they announced…..we can save this earth! It isn’t too late to help her.

Like you I keep hearing those phrases but this time a little switch went off. I sarcastically responded to the tv that we didn’t need to help her, we needed to stop hurting her.

Johnny looked up at me and I could see the thinking behind his eyes. He broke into a giggle. “Right!” he said. “When we are helping her, we are actually hurting her.” He gets it.

We imagine ourselves as the big brave hero flying in to save the day but that is foolish. The earth doesn’t need our help. She was here before us and will last way beyond us if necessary. Her ability to heal herself only requires us to stop pouring gasoline on her fire. Can we do that?

The town we stay in is lined with beautiful homes surrounded by lush landscaped gardens. The next morning on my run I’m admiring thick green lawns, hydrangeas and shasta daisies, perfectly manicured and all watered automatically each morning via irrigation systems to please our eye. Then I ran back to the road along the marsh and nature’s garden caught my eye. Without our money, landscapers or fertilizers…or our help, she had created the perfect garden. Imagine that.

Let’s shift our focus from helping…..to not hurting.

Distracted
I’m out on the deck on my yoga mat in a lunge while Johnny discusses what we are going to do that day. Questions, comments and observations while I breathe. He runs back inside.

A few minutes later he is back, plopping himself down on my bolster. We jump back into conversation. It’s then he realizes that he had gone inside to use the bathroom but his favorite monster truck (Gravedigger of course!) was on tv so he sat and watched. Then he came back out without using the restroom. He laughed at himself. He could see what had happened.

I asked if he knew what that was called. Distracted, I told him. When you have an intention but something in the outer world pulls you away.

That afternoon I go into my room to send an email. My phone on the dresser is flashing that I have texts. Sitting on the floor I read them, respond, look things up…..and head back out to the living room. No email. Distracted.

I watched myself. I watched my friend come upstairs to get something, talk to me and walk back down without it. Family members walking into the kitchen and then wondering why they are there. Distracted.

Are you?

Notice…….
SARAH