....impermanence

Yogis,
A tree grows on a small island close to the river’s edge. She is the first thing I notice each time I arrive and over the years I have taken quite a few pictures of her. It’s hard not to. She looks different every time…… and beautiful.

On this bright crisp November morning, photographing her yet again, I realized she is one of my teachers on the only thing we can depend on. 

Impermanence.

I’m reading about the Tibetan Buddhist concept of the bardo. There are many definitions and interpretations, but in simple terms the bardo is a state of transition. Everything that exists was created, goes through a period of change, and will die. Nowhere is there any hint of a period where change stands still. Not even for the length of time it takes you to take your next breath.

A couple weeks ago my tree’s dried leaves rustled in the breeze. This morning she sat bare.

I watch an oak leaf float by. This leaf which grew from a bud, performed its job of drawing nourishment from the sun, clothed itself in a myriad of colors and finally chose to let go, was once only an idea tucked in a tightly closed acorn.

The sky above me comes to life as a massive flock of birds swoop in. A shadow is cast and the air fills with their chatter as they make preparations to leave. Since arriving in spring, nests have been built, babies born, and bugs eaten. They aren’t the same birds they were when they came. Where will they go?

The light shifts. The water changes color.

Not everyone wants to consider the bardo since we, as an integral part of nature, exist within it. Everything we do is a bardo. I began a run this morning, experienced the above and upon arriving home it ended. It no longer exists. If I do the run tomorrow it is impossible for it to be the same. I now sit within the bardo of writing my Sunday note. It too will end.

My existence is a bardo.

The more I notice this though, in nature and in my own moment to moment living, the more comfortable I become with the beauty of change. Is there a chance I can loosen my grip on that need to create a sense of control over the truly uncontrollable?

Wouldn’t trusting life be incredibly freeing?

I am changing,
SARAH

.....the gratitude engine

Yogis,
Gratitude season has blown in with the November winds! The time of year where we are asked to take an honest look at our gratitude skills, dust off any cobwebs and rev up the engine.

I like to picture gratitude as an internal engine. It’s always there but can get a bit sluggish when it hasn’t been tuned up in a while. A little rusty with the challenges and grind of daily life. Nothing a little oil and a gentle foot to the pedal can’t fix though!  Soon enough it can be humming again.

What serves as the oil?

There are many gratitude practices. One I like to use is to select a time when I am alone and still and notice something right in front of me that I am grateful for. I typically choose to do this outside but there are unlimited things to be grateful for inside as well.

You can do this with something as simple as your favorite chair. An old worn sweater. Your car. A tree in your yard. An afternoon cup of tea.

After selecting and taking a cursory look, dive deeper. Why are you grateful for it? Get closer to see what it looks like. The intricacies. What does it feel like? How long has it been there?  How does it make you feel?

I chose waves as my focus this morning while standing witness yet again to the miraculous rise of the sun. I am grateful for waves of course but let me get closer and see why.

I am grateful for the way the sun’s rays cause waves to shimmer. The spray that fills the air when one crashes. The patterns and shells left behind in the sand. The smell of salt air sent my way. The sound heard not only by my ears but felt through the soles of my feet. Their incredible power.

Seagulls can always be found standing close and how the sandpipers chase the waves edge in mass with their short, yet quick little legs moving in unison. The shifting colors of the water. Her consistent mesmerizing rhythm. Geese fly overhead………

All of this in fifteen minutes.

My chest begins to expand. The heart has more room. An inner light turns on. I feel happy, as the energy of gratitude awakens joy.

As I run back through the neighborhood, I now notice everything. Birds chirping. A light breeze. A baby pine tree pushing up through a crack in the sidewalk. No longer simply grateful for things, but instead ‘being’ gratitude in action. Shining gratitude.

The effort is in greasing the engine on a regular basis. But once you do you soon find yourself coasting down the gratitude highway…….with the top down and hair blowing in the wind.

Grateful for all of you,
SARAH

....pink or purple

Yogis,
All of you mothers out there with only boys may understand what I am about to describe. I am the mother of three sons. All three loved to play outside, kick the soccer ball, play video games and thought farts were the most hysterical things ever. Not having even grown up with any brothers, I learned a whole side of life I didn’t know while raising my boys. I loved every minute of it!

Yet through it all I gained no skills in the more feminine activities. Not that girls don’t do all of what I mention above, but many of them have that other side where pink or purple tend to fit in. Not being much of a girly girl growing up myself, I am clueless.

I never wore much makeup after those early teenage years where blue eyeshadow was the rage. A little mascara here or there and lipstick for a couple of years, but never feeling like I knew how to apply any of it correctly. Creative scarf tying…..nope. The ability to use barrettes or clips or swoop my hair up in a loose cool looking bun….never. I don’t own any pink and am woefully low on accessories.

Now I have two granddaughters and I have some major catching up to do! My two daughters-in-law are helping along the way, thank goodness. And I need a lot of help.

Yet in only a couple of hours I felt like I had taken a full semester course in the form of a ‘Fairy and Me’ tea party at Mrs. B’s on Saturday. It’s a whimsical space that holds small events which teach children manners and etiquette in a fun lighthearted way. My one daughter in law discovered it and invited my granddaughter Abigail (her niece) and me to join her. A special ‘girls’ outing.

Special it was. An exquisitely laid out table welcomed us with butterflies, fairy houses, flowers and old-fashioned glass teacups with saucers. Necklaces to pick from, hats to wear and wings to borrow if you didn’t have your own. We learned to pat our mouths with a napkin and not our hands, stir our tea quietly and always pass the food treats to the right. Abigail had her first cup of tea and learned to use tongs to pick up a sugar cube to drop in for sweetness.

All of this with a full-fledged fairy floating about the room on her tippy toes, delighting all the young girls……and me.

Fairy dust was sprinkled on hands. Roses were showered on heads for fairy wishes. We loved it all. And while I still have much to learn I feel I’m on the right track.

I did realize though that I absolutely need to have some wings……..

Pinkies up! (from Mrs. B),
SARAH 

.....into the dark

Yogis,
My Saturday morning run took me to the river’s edge as the sun was rising. My phone showed 7:38 am. Sunday morning, sitting on a rock halfway across the water to Virginia, I watched her rise again. This time my phone said 6:40 am.  The sun hadn’t changed course. We had……

Time. A concept created by humans around which our lives revolve. Time to get up. Don’t be late for work. Trains every fifteen minutes. The game starts at four so we should leave by two. Bake for one hour. Time for bed. All of us unconsciously checking our wrist, phone, pc or wall clocks all day….and at times, all night.

Originally humans lived within the rhythm of the natural world. The rising and falling sun, change of seasons and movement of the stars. Until about 3500 – 5000 years ago when the Egyptians created the first sundials and began constructing a measurement for ‘time.’

Centuries passed and the industrial revolution set in motion a need for agreements on time. Its structure and time zones becoming an important business and social construct in a more connected world. Standards set on a 24-hour day.

Until the intro of daylight savings time. Giving us one spring day with 23 hours and one fall day of 25.

Here we sit on this incredibly long day. The receding daylight in the evenings has been noticeable, but the return to standard time feels like a leap from the cliff. Into the dark……

Can it really be only 2:30?

Change the clocks before bed or is it better to wait for morning? Did I remember to adjust my alarm so it goes off at the right time? Did my car’s clock automatically adjust? And no matter how sure I feel I have covered it all, one clock will create complete time confusion when I see it a few days later.

One year the manual clock in my yoga studio stayed off by an hour for months because the only time I would realize it was wrong was when I would glance over in the middle of class.

I do the mental calculation of what time it ‘really is.’ Unsettled. Noticing the effect that changing time by a mere hour has on my sleep and mental state. Time no longer an anchor.

Phoebe doesn’t know the time changed (since it really didn’t) She begins begging for food at 3:30 which my mind quickly calculates as truly 4:30. Her dinner time. How do I break it to her? I often wonder do the birds and deer notice we humans all changed our patterns on the same day. It’s all so confusing.

Yet into the dark we go, marked by a movement of the hour hand on the clock. A shift. Did you feel it?

I find the best approach is to embrace it.

It’s 5:30 and wondering if I can put pajamas on yet,
SARAH