.....39

Yogis,
Thirty-nine is an odd number. I remember turning 39 myself. A pause that sits between the young and vibrant days of your 20s and 30s and the leap into the 40s and 50s which seem so …….well, mature. Now I have a son turning 39 and I celebrated my 39^th wedding anniversary this weekend. How is that possible when I feel like I am still only 39?

Thirty-nine years of living life hand in hand with the same person. That’s a long time. A mature marriage.

It was a bitter cold January day at the Fortnightly Club. The streets were clear but the snow that had fallen two days before was still pristine, glistening under bright sun on the grassy areas. I was an idealistic 22 year old and imagined that marriage was something that came easily. That love was enough. Yes, you are told there would be ups and downs. Yes, you saw others with troubles. Yet somehow you are sure that yours will be different.

At first you try to change the other person. If I just keep reminding him to wipe his shoes, put down the toilet seat and close the closet doors he will gradually mold into my desires. Years and arguments later you finally realize that who you married is who they are. They are never going to delight in shopping with you. They don’t think salad is dinner. And they will never be happy staying up past 9:30.

Letting go of expectations. Letting go of needing them to be and think like you. Not easy.

Time marches forward. You buy houses together. You travel together. You handle crisis together. You parent together…even handing them off into their own marriages. You cry and you laugh. Together. But together does not mean the same.

It took me many years to get it. That marriage becomes strongest when its two unique ‘individuals’ have worked on becoming whole and complete beings on their own. Not looking to the other to fill their own voids. That is the foundation. Moving through life separately, but together.

In ‘The Prophet’, Khlil Gibran says it this way.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone.

And stand together yet not too near together.

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadows.

 

How do you celebrate 39 years of waking up to each new day together? We decided to try ‘floating’. Lying quietly in a closed heavily salted pod in darkness for an hour. When I called to make the reservations I said there were two of us. ‘We love having you come together and at the same time, but you must each float alone in your own pod,’ she said.

How fitting.

Being whole,
SARAH

.....attenuation

Yogis,
Could I possibly let a winter go by without writing at least one note (no promise there won’t be more…..) about trees? Having shed all leaves, seeds, flowers, nuts and cones they stand proud and confident in their nakedness. Powerful and rock steady. Winter, in my eyes, is a tree’s time to shine.

Last night sitting for dinner in a quiet house I heard the distinctive hum of the beltway. Washington DC’s  interstate that circles the city and it’s close in suburbs. As a Washingtonian you define where you live by ‘inside’ or ‘outside’ the beltway. We sit about one mile inside.

When we moved onto the street 35 years ago the beltway was a non-issue. Only on a rare winter day with the wind blowing in just the right direction, could you make out the sounds of cars if you listened closely. Fast forward and now no matter the time of year I can hear it if I tune in. Some days faint. Others……not so much.

What has changed? Are there more cars? No, not really. Are cars louder? No, probably the opposite. Has the beltway been expanded to sit closer to our yard? Nope. Leaving only one other possible option. Less trees. New home builders take them down. Homeowners take them down. Our electric company takes them down. Five here. Two here. Ten here. Year after year. It all adds up…….

We hear the multitude of benefits that trees offer. They provide the oxygen we breathe. Reduce stormwater runoff, provide habitat for wildlife, cool our homes and combat climate change. Even decrease violence in neighborhoods. But another incredible gift they give is noise reduction.

We live in a noisy world. Noise pollution is being shown to have negative effects on our sleep, emotional wellbeing and even heart health. I can attest to that! At times once I notice the sounds of the highway I can’t ‘unhear’ them. I can physically feel myself getting agitated.

Here is where trees come to the rescue.  They act as noise barriers through what is called sound attenuation. Trees dampen the sound as it travels through air by absorption, deflection, refraction and masking. They protect us. Once again.

Last month I noticed landscapers in my friend’s yard planting 3 good sized trees. Elm, oak and maple. I figured she decided to spend the money to replace and expand on the one that had died. Nope. She told me it was all done for free by our county through a program called Tree Montgomery. The county met with her for a plan and then sent landscapers who professionally buried the roots in the earth. These will all grow to be large shade, noise cancelling trees.

Two weeks ago when I was walking to the creek I noticed 5 new trees planted in the open grassy area at the entrance to the park. Pin oaks, the tags declared. Huh! Isn’t that nice.

Then this week, I took Phoebe to a small park a few streets away. It is surrounded by woods on two sides of a full soccer field my boys grew up playing on. To my surprise there sat 4 new happy trees planted on the open air side of the field. Willow oak, sweetgum and red maple. Wow! Isn’t that nice.

Suddenly I am feeling the tiniest of turns in the path. For more years than I can count I have witnessed trees being chain sawed down and I can’t remember seeing any planted. Those are terrible odds. Yet in the last couple months I have seen at least twelve additions to our Cabin John tree community. 

We have a long way to go……but I am feeling hopeful.  

I have signed up for Tree Montgomery,
SARAH

.....wintering

Yogis,
Dishwasher unloaded. Kitchen cleaned. Plants watered and bills paid. I’ve taught my classes, held a reiki session, walked Phoebe and gone to the grocery store. Yet I stand looking at two empty hours ahead of me. It happened again two days later. And then again the day after that. There were suddenly blocks of time in the day staring back at me and making me feel guilty.

I should be doing something productive! Maybe start a project. Take a class. Join a group……..

Then I remembered those blank spaces were winter. A gift she gives us every year.

From mid November until early January every free moment was taken with holiday prep. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, wrapping and mailing. Throw in parties and family gatherings and there wasn’t a moment to spare. Feeling productive and busy. But that has come to an abrupt end and the cold of winter has indeed arrived leaving little on the calendar.

Every year the profound and sudden quiet of winter takes me by surprise.

Each time I step outside I notice the hush. Most of the birds have gone and the ones who chose to stay behind do so quietly. I can walk for blocks without passing another soul. There are no dogs barking in yards and no kids riding their bikes. I can hear myself think.

Maybe I don’t want that window inward. My first instinct is to fill the winter void. If not, I might get bored! Heaven forbid. Boredom is something we fear.

But that would be a shame.

Covered from head to toe with my breath visible, I run past my community garden. Everything above ground sits dried and brown. No movement. No sound. No bees or butterflies. The garden is in deep rest. Nature knows to take this time to recharge to be ready for the surge forward that spring requires.

She reminds me. Yes. This time of year offers that time to rest that we complain all year there is no time for. Hours to do nothing more than read a book cuddled up with a favorite blanket. Wear sweatpants all afternoon. Build fires. Watch that movie I never got to see and sneak into bed even earlier, covers pulled up over my ears.

Wintering.

Think of winter as a free two-month meditation retreat. A time for reflection. Being alone and without the usual distractions you may find that life comes into focus. Where you are…… what is working….. and what isn’t.  

Give yourself permission to rest. To be bored. To live without agenda. Accept this gift the season is offering you, because before long spring will be knocking at the door and you will be complaining about life’s busy-ness once again.

Being very quiet,
SARAH

.....mojo

Yogis,
After last week’s missive on finding a word of the year I heard back from some of you on what word you had chosen. Love……balanced……..ease……..evolving were a few. Each time I heard one I tried it on for size. Walking around with a shawl of ease draped across my shoulders would make me feel like a superhero. If I wear love can everyone feel the warmth of my light shining as I approach?

Every word has a unique energy and I could see all of them having a place in my closet.

Then someone sent a note that they were using this new year to reconnect with their mojo. Oh yeah. I wrote back that I have been working a bit on that myself lately. And I still have much more work to do……..

There was the pre-covid me. I felt that I could tap into my mojo at the drop of a hat. Leading ceremonies and retreats, at ease in my practice and shaking my hips with abandon the moment the music turned on. Then there was the covid me. Quiet. Reflective. More subdued. And I liked both! Both felt right for their times and I have much to be grateful for in these past couple of years.

Now there is the post-covid me which I am finding a little difficult to define. Stuck in some covid routines which no longer seem to satisfy. My mojo is stirring but I can’t quite connect.  

What is mojo?

One of the first images that comes to mind is Austin Powers in his skintight white sequined pantsuit who had the girls swooning even with his crooked teeth and goofy demeanor. Mojo is defined many ways including words such as magic, energy, special skill or a spell. Magnetic. To have your mojo you have to be in touch with who you really are, embrace it fully and wear it plainly on your sleeve for all to see.

Your inner spark.

Here are some ways I am discovering to get my mojo going. First, I have to get back to being outside ….more.…..often. In the cold, in the gray. Mojo will not be found in my family room but oozes from the bare winter trees and the way the sun’s late day rays paint the sky. Second, I have to move my body in more directions. Yesterday I raked. Today after practice I did some jumping, twisting and kicking. Lift my knees higher. Igniting the mojo engine!

Finally, Friday for the first time since March of 2020 I did my pre-covid Friday night routine.  Went to a hot yoga class, got a bite to eat, came back and hung out the bedroom window, danced wildly and wrapped up the evening with a soak in the deep steamy tub. Yes!

Will this be my new routine? I’m not sure. But it did feel like a step toward my mojo. 

The universe though, gave me a thumbs up that I was on the right path. As I leaned out the window into the cold night air, I heard rustling in my medicine wheel garden. A fox? A rabbit? ‘Hello’ I yelled, followed by my signature whistle which I am confident all the woodland creatures know by now. The rustling continued, moving slowly through the center of the wheel until finally a head lifted. A silhouette of a buck glowed in the shadows beneath the full wolf moon.

Thank you, I whispered,
SARAH

.....another word

Yogis,
Boy how these years fly by. It feels like it was only weeks ago that I chose ‘responsibility’ as my word for 2022 and here we are, already sitting in the newness of a year named 2023. Time once more to select a word of the year.

First, I look back. Did I wear ‘responsibility’ well? Yes and No. I switched to toothpaste tablets in glass jars, reduced my use of ziplocs and paper towels dramatically, planted more natives in the garden and began composting. Yet the Amazon boxes continue arriving and there is still much work to be done on the amount of plastic I can’t help but see in each Tuesday’s recycle bin.

As the New Year’s ball descends, we aren’t meant to drop last year’s word. Carry it forward and continue fine tuning but start weaving in the thread of an additional energy you want to embrace and exude. I will still wear my previous years words of kind, fierce and blooming but will now add another layer.

My word of the year is ‘beauty’.

With so much turmoil in our world it can be easy to tell ourselves we live in an era defined by war, anger, divisiveness and sorrow. Yet it’s the other way around. We live on a planet that is always astonishingly beautiful and choose (unconsciously perhaps) to layer on ugliness.

Our culture and its multibillion dollar marketing campaigns convince us that if we want to find beauty we must create it…..and spend money to do so. Makeup for our faces, the perfect outfit, colorful throw pillows, manicured lawns or those new dishes. Though, without us lifting a finger, beauty is already here. Everywhere. We walk out the door each day to towering trees, white fluffy clouds against a brilliant blue sky, flowers in every imaginable color and oceans so vast we have yet to discover all they hold.

How amazing it is that we get to be part of this all!

My intention this year is to notice this beauty each day. To look for it……photograph it……thank it, and let it be my prevailing view of the world. But not only the easy stuff like a rainbow or the sunrise, but the bit more challenging like gray days, the old trusty teapot, the well-worn jacket and the human who holds completely different views than my own. Beauty is in everything and everyone…….if we choose to look for it.

Seeing beauty is a practice. Slowing down. Intending to see it. Looking for it. Every day.  I will add this to my life’s cloak this year.

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

What a beautiful world we live in,
SARAH