....it's a wrap

Yogis,
Another Thanksgiving is in the books. The week we have set aside as ‘gratitude week’ is officially over tonight. The leftover turkey has dwindled down to that final bone holding sad looking bits of meat, the pumpkin pie is slightly dried out since no one is sealing the plastic wrap down any longer after stolen bites and the remnants of the green bean casserole sit out in the trash. We all expressed our gratitude, saw the posts which pulled our heartstrings and heard the poems. We can now tie a neat bow on top and move on with life. It's a wrap!

Wait a minute. Not so fast……..

It is very gracious, and typical of us to designate a time for gratitude, but it misses the whole point. Gratitude has no calendar. It also isn’t something we can think about, as it doesn’t reside in the mind. No, gratitude is an emotion. An energy that vibrates from the heart and is endless.

Let’s get our gratitude engine started up so we can move into tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the month after that living in gratitude. A simple practice is one that uses the senses (Mr. Mind, you can take a rest now).

I am grateful for these things that I can hear….. Grateful for the geese honking overhead and the squawk of the seagulls. Oh, and grateful for the sound of pounding waves. The sound of laughter. Music, the tinkling of windchimes, my breath, the hum of my heater and church bells.

I am grateful for these things that I can smell…….Grateful for the smell of woodstoves in the night and inhaling the sea air. The smell of French fries cooking on the boardwalk and even the whiff of dried out pumpkin pie each time I open the refrigerator. The smell of a new puppy, my lavender oil, a rose, pine trees in the winter. Thank you, thank you!

I am grateful for these things that I can taste…..Grateful everyday for the first sip of my morning tea latte and blueberries in my yogurt.  And who isn’t grateful for the taste of chocolate? What would life be without lemon or garlic or basil or mint or pound cake? Grateful to be given the gift of tasting them all.

I am grateful for these things that I can see…… I am grateful for the handsome buck carrying his full rack proudly as he greeted us this morning.  The blue of the sky and the waving seagrass. The red of the maples still in their glory here and the hawk circling overhead make my heart soar. Flowers! Grateful to see the clouds and the twinkle in the eyes of the woman we greet as we run by. Grateful for every color because I can’t imagine a world without yellow.

And I am grateful for these things I can feel….. The warmth of the sun and breeze on my face. Grateful for cold and hot, soft and hard. Jumping into a pool, sliding between my sheets each night and lying on the sand.  Fleece, bubbles, a warm bath, stretching my body, my heart pounding. Joy, sorrow, elation. Being hugged.

The engine is beginning to hum…..

Driving through mountains, snowstorms, rumbling thunder, rainbows, the crackle of the fire……

And once it is warmed up the things to be grateful for become infinite.

Grateful for my fingers which take words from my heart on to paper,
SARAH

....contented

Yogis,
It was a cold crisp night. From the deck I watched a big moon lifting herself over a nearly bare tree line. Salmon was cooking on the grill and the smoke filled air mingled with the lingering aroma of smoke in my hair from the firepit I had been sitting around.  

I’m wearing my most comfortable clothes. Jeans with a well-worn sweater and my trusty wool socks. My favorite flannel lined beanie, like an old friend, keeping me warm. Something makes me laugh and in that moment a wave of contentment washes through. Everything exactly as it should be. Needing nothing. Wanting nothing.

Content.

I think of the times where this sensation of fullness visits. When I am sitting on a rock at the edge of the river, sun warming my face and birds overhead. With eyes closed I experience perfection. Or hearing the crunching of leaves under our feet in the otherwise silent woods I am hiking through with my grandchildren. The rest of the world a distant memory as we find hollowed out logs or patches of moss for my little fairy figurine to sit and rest.

I feel it snuggled up on the couch with a blanket, a cup of hot tea in my hands and a good book in my lap. Taking that first spoonful of the soup I have been smelling all afternoon as it simmered on the stove. Sitting on the floor with my paints trying to capture the beauty I see through my window.

Contentment.

The definition of contented is ‘feeling or showing satisfaction with one’s possessions, status or situation.’ I am not sure that accurately describes the depths of peace I experience in these moments that I am recounting.

It isn’t as simple as being satisfied with my situation, but more like falling head over heels with exactly what is. It has no connection to my possessions or status and occurs in the simplest of times. When all else is stripped away and I can be present to the miracle of what is right here, that is when it flows and fills me to my edges.  My feet, my mind, my heart and my breath all in one place.

As we enter this week of gratitude it occurs to me that when I am content, these are also the times that the most gratitude pours through. Grateful for how things are. Grateful to the sun, birds, moon, smoke, rocks, leaves and my grandkid’s little feet in their boots. No ‘buts,’ or ‘if onlys’, or ‘as soon as.’

Ours is not a culture or economy that appreciates contentment. We have been trained to live from a place of lack. Taught to believe we will feel content once we make that next purchase, visit that country, buy that house or put that next big check in the bank. Or that somehow being content is settling for less. But contentedness is a far cry from a diminished life.

It rises from a well contained within when we stop to notice how exquisitely beautiful life is …….right now…..right here. I’ll ‘settle’ for that anytime!

Grateful to you for reading these words,
SARAH

.....mine

Yogis,
I had just returned from a visit to the creek. As I usually do, I wandered into the backyard with Phoebe to do a quick check in. The crows were squawking and leaves were floating gracefully down to rest on the grass. Peaceful as always…..until the calm was broken by a man’s voice from the house on the other side of our ravine.

“GET OUT OF MY YARD RIGHT NOW,” he screamed in a deep angry voice and even though there was quite a bit of distance between us, he was so worked up that it sounded as if he was right next to me. I could imagine steam coming out of his ears. What on earth could be there that would cause him to be so enraged? I see something run.

Silence. I can see his figure through the trees move back toward his house so Phoebe and I head into the woods and down the hill. My first thought was that it was a dog. What if it is lost? Or maybe a fox. We get to the bottom and can hear rustling in the bamboo. We wait patiently. I finally see movement in a clearing. A baby deer passes, followed by her mom.

I personally can’t imagine having that visceral of a reaction to deer, regardless of what they had been doing, and since it is safe to assume they weren’t attacking him, they must have been having their lunch in his garden. And he didn’t want them in ‘my yard’.

My yard.  Is it? Are those lines we draw real?

Mine is a funny concept. Yes, there were some pieces of paper shuffled back and forth between humans, with lawyers (simply other humans) verifying that yes, you own your land. But did the deer who has lived there her entire life have a say? Did the sun who shines faithfully on the front window each morning at dawn give its seal of approval? Did the earth worm committee down below have a time period for comments? And does this mean I own the squirrel who is hunkered down in her nest up above?

This property is not mine. In reality nothing is ‘mine’. An illusion. Not the house I live in or the yard it sits on. Not the clothes in my closet or even the body that is currently inside some of them. Even that will eventually have to be given back. Everything we believe we own is only passing through, allowing us to use it for some period of time, until we don’t. Impermanence.

When we believe something is ours it then requires us to watch it, hold on to it and protect it from being taken. ‘Mine’ creates attachment, fear, worry…….and as witnessed, even intense rage at a baby deer.

Wars are fought, friendships are broken, money is spent, all to hold onto what we insist is ours. But nothing is mine. When we can embrace this truth we become free.

As I was laying in savasana on the deck I gazed up into the trees. I watched the cloud formations float by and felt a breeze brush across my face. How could I possible ever own them. They too aren’t mine. It’s more likely that I am theirs.

Grateful for the presence of all that surrounds me at this moment.

It is home, but it isn’t mine,
SARAH

.....unhurrying

Yogis,
Phoebe and I have been on the road together. Four days at the beach and then loading the car again we headed north to spend time with my parents. I enjoy traveling routes I don’t typically take so I chose to drive up Route 1 in silence. I didn't want to be distracted by words or music. I wanted to notice.

It was a gray day with occasional spits of rain yet the yellow of the cleared farmlands and the occasional vivid red tree framed by my windshield were magnificent. A hawk perched on an overhead wire peered down as I drove underneath and I noted the names of the small local stores as I passed by.

This is a four lane road divided by a large grassy median which makes for comfortable driving. The speed limit is 60 and I was going my typical five to 10 mph over although it would be easy to go much faster as many others were doing. Don’t we all view speed limits as the minimum?

Up ahead I saw one of those electric signs held up with orange poles that can be programmed to display alerts. It was the kind you typically see before construction, but there was no construction in sight. As I got closer, I could read its message.

‘Ya’ll need to relax. You will get there,’ it said. You have to love Delaware.

I realized what a wonderful message it was. It stuck in my mind as I continued my journey. We do need to relax. Why are we in such a hurry? Why is it that we feel the need to go faster than the posted speed? To live life at breakneck speed.

It seems no matter how quickly we do things these days, there is a desire to do them faster. Cell phones as an example….5G is being installed across the country to give us more speed. Do I actually need more speed? In fact almost all new technology is developed to help us get things done quicker.

But where exactly is it that we are going? What is our hurry?

I catch myself rushing around while cleaning up. Carrying too many things down the steps so I don’t have to go back up. Wanting to get in and out of the grocery store and being annoyed if there is a line. If a web page takes longer to load, the toe starts tapping. Faster movement, faster breath, faster mind. And we wonder why we are all anxious.

We are taught this at a young age. Remember being rushed or rushing your own children each morning? Hurry up and eat! Hurry up and dress! Hurry up…..hurry up….hurry up……when as children our instinct is to dawdle. To be and enjoy the space we are occupying at that moment. No time for that!

In a thoughtful book I am reading the author speaks to a need for humans to unlearn hurrying. Slowing down as a path toward reconnection and inner peace.  Could we do that, and will the world even let us?

I took the road message to heart and spent the next three hours of my drive sitting back, shoulders relaxed, not concerned with my arrival time. I would get there when I got there, and the drive felt carefree. I arrived refreshed and ready to enjoy family. The sign was right. I did get there.

Catch yourself the next time you are hurrying. Notice, take a big conscious exhale and see what happens if you slow down. Life does indeed wait.

Slowing life down to enjoy the ride,
SARAH