.....living

Yogis,
There are many myths and stereotypes on aging out there. Our culture doesn’t hold the same honor and respect for elders shown in many other countries. Older years are often viewed here as something to dread. A lessening of the good things in life. A decline. Even more so for women.

Not all see it this way though. I have decided I am going to incorporate Diane von Furstenberg’s perspective into my own life.

Diane is the clothes designer who shook up the women’s clothing world in 1976 with her introduction of the wrap dress. Now at 76 she says she is entering her winter, but boy is she doing it with class and beliefs that turn our outdated and superficial view of aging right on its head.  

Ask her how old she is and she responds that the question should be rephrased. We should be asking her how many years she has lived. How many glorious days she has been given the gift of walking on this magnificent earth we call home. Wow.

Because we are not 'aging'. We are living.

Whether you are thirty, sixty or eighty-nine, if you pause to see what you are doing at this moment, you are living. Breathing, feeling, smelling, seeing…….. Life is here for you at every moment without regard for age, so live each one to the fullest!

My face carries all of my memories. Why would I erase them? 
~ Diane von Furstenberg

Another phenomenon we experience is not feeling the age we are turning. My mom and I have talked about this often, including last week. After some thought I told her I felt 50 even though it says sixty-one on my driver’s license. Now I am rethinking that. Society has given us beliefs of what fifty feels like. What 80 feels like. But that’s nonsense!

Am I willing to exclude the wisdom I have accumulated, things I have learned and joys I have felt over these past eleven years from my life? When Diane is asked, she says she could be 300 for how full her life has been. Yes!

When I see you next, I won’t ask how old you are. I will ask how many years you have lived, and I will be awed.

Living......not aging,
SARAH

......service

Yogis,
Through my life I have done a variety of volunteer jobs. It was as a candy striper (remember those?) in a NJ county hospital that I learned to fold a proper hospital corner on a bed, a skill I use to this day. I was fourteen at the time and yes, I did wear a red and white striped uniform.

Once I had kids, I did PTA and ran the annual bingo night. For Mayfair I raised my hand for buying the thousands of trinkets from the Oriental Trading company catalog, unwrapping each one, organizing them and distributing to all the booths at the fair to be used as prizes. I managed soccer teams, sold athletic stadium seat cushions that sat in boxes which filled our basement, and set my clock for 3 am to work after-prom on the cleanup committee.

In the workplace I was always the money collector for coworker gifts and in charge of figuring out the bill for team lunches. In both, you always end up a little short.  I participated in MS Walks and sat on the board of one of our customers.

It was sitting at a board meeting that I had an insight. There are volunteer roles that feel like they are made for you. Match your skills and feel empowering. Then there are those that don’t. Board member fell into that second category. I realized I had said yes because I thought I was supposed to. I noticed I was dreading meetings and was not going to be of much value, so I stepped down.

Volunteering, when selected mindfully, is a gratifying and fulfilling role. The act of doing for others gives back over and over. However, when chosen because of pressure, expectations or its easier to just say yes…..not so much.

As I have gotten wiser I only volunteer for those that fall in line with my passions. I have always wanted to teach so I am tutoring reading in a city elementary school. I love to spend time at our creek so I now do water testing. And of course, there is the garden I planted and maintain down on our main street. These fit beautifully within my gifts.

There is a concept in yoga which speaks to this. Dharma. That each of us has unique gifts. There are things we do differently than anyone else in the world. We are to use these gifts to live our own life but also in service to others. In doing so, we fulfill our life’s purpose. Serving others, when in alignment, feels effortless and pays in the currency of joy.

While tending my garden there is no sense of time. People pause to chat. Cars honk. Children smell the flowers. Butterflies float by. The sun shines down. I feel like I am in a fairy tale, yet the community and wildlife benefit. Dharma.

What are your unique gifts? Where do your passions lie? Put them in service and watch what happens.  

You also meet the nicest people,
SARAH

......native

Yogis,
I looked up the definition for native. ‘An original or indigenous inhabitant.’ When applied to a plant the term native indicates it has been growing in a particular region for thousands of years. Plants that occur naturally in a habitat without human intervention. Because of this, they are well adapted to the light, soil and climate of their home. They require very little care.

You can’t help but hear the push for planting natives in your yard. When placed appropriately according to their likes and dislikes the droughts are tolerated using significantly less of our precious water whose access appears to be our looming crisis. Running a sprinkler daily to keep grass looking like a carpet is really no longer sustainable.

On the other hand, plants like cardinal flower are happy to have their feet wet as these more common torrential rains dump their buckets in mere minutes. Joe Pye’s weed, while it appreciates some sun, is also quite content to sit up against the north side of my house where it’s always in a shadow.

I heeded the call to go native and began shopping in the native sections of our local nurseries, which by the way are getting larger each year. Here I have found plants that settled in nicely to my steep dry rocky slope under pine trees. Alumroot was the first plant I found that could survive happily in the sandy soil along the driveway at the beach house……which btw gets absolutely no watering all summer since weekly renters are more concerned with hitting the beach than watering my plants (even though I ask nicely on a sign on the frig).

Natives, however, do a whole lot more than make our weekend to-do list shorter. My garden has a buzz of activity from bees, butterflies and hummingbirds. Needed shelter, food and habitat are all provided for native wildlife. A greater variety of birds come through. A symbiotic relationship with nature. And, by the way, natives are beautiful!

This year though, I am noticing another interesting effect. The more natives I plant, the more natives are showing up on the property. It’s as if I sent out an open invitation through my actions and intentions and unexpected guests are beginning to arrive.

I now have three hibiscus plants which are blooming beautifully and I am noticing they are beginning to multiply. Last year a boneset appeared in my medicinal garden and this year another has joined the plants I added on my rocky slope. Three batches of sensitive fern suddenly showed up, all in my moistest spots where most plants won’t grow. And northern spicebush is popping up through my wooded and shady areas which provide a nice splash of yellow in early spring and supply high energy berries.

Next time you take a walk through your area, instead of noticing your neighbors’ yards, look to your natural parks, woodlands, sides of roads and empty fields to see what is growing. These are truly your natives and if you begin to plant the intention of welcoming them, they might just show up.

Letting the garden be wild,
SARAH

.....first fall

Yogis,
I am on my final beach vacation of the year. By the time I leave after Labor Day, summer 2023 will be a wrap.

This was the week we stepped into our beach house as owners again, while the last renters packed up the car and headed home to get kids back in school and themselves back to work. I organize, I clean, I walk the rooms, rearrange and make the beds.....all to make it mine once again.

Happy to be back.

On my drive down I listened to the podcast Wiser Than Me, where Julia Louis-Dreyfus interviews women who have much wisdom to share. Before she introduces her guest she always speaks about what the theme of the show is and this week's was the beautiful, complicated, sacred, and sometimes messy relationship between a mother and her children. 

These past couple of weeks I have been spending time with my grandchildren and in the process have had the joy of watching my own children now parent. 

Memories flood in of those days with my three young boys. One image in particular came to mind on this final summer week……. Walking the beach alone with my youngest in a snuggly on a morning where we were the renters packing up to head home. My maternity leave was coming to a close. Salty tears rolled down my cheeks as I held him tight.

Julia read this poem and as we begin to see fall off on the horizon I thought I would share it with you. It touched me and I hope it does the same for you.

 

First Fall 

Maggie Smith

 

I’m your guide here. In the evening-dark

morning streets, I point and name.

Look, the sycamores, their mottled,

paint-by-number bark. Look, the leaves

rusting and crisping at the edges.

I walk through Schiller Park with you

on my chest. Stars smolder well

into daylight. Look, the pond, the ducks,

the dogs paddling after their prized sticks.

Fall is when the only things you know

because I’ve named them

begin to end. Soon I’ll have another

season to offer you: frost soft

on the window and a porthole

sighed there, ice sleeving the bare

gray branches. The first time you see

something die, you won’t know it might

come back. I’m desperate for you

to love the world because I brought you here.

Om,
SARAH