....how did I get here

Yogis,
Do you ever have those moments where you suddenly stop and wonder ‘how did I get here?’

Now I don’t mean how was I created. That’s a discussion for another Sunday. But how did I get to this life that I am living right now. I had one of those moments as I stood at the edge of the ocean watching another sunrise.

Life is a series of steps. And every time we put one foot in front of another we are making a choice. Some steps are conscious, some seem random and others seem like sleepwalking. Yet every plant of the foot takes us in a direction.

How did I come to live in DC for example. It began with college. After narrowing down to five or six we took road trips to visit in person. I can still remember the impressions I had of each……made after only minutes. One I didn’t like because the tour guide was not friendly. Others too strict. Too big. Too academic. One appeared dreary (probably because it was a cloudy day).

Arriving at Georgetown’s campus though on a perfect spring day, the sky was blue and the sun shining. Students hanging out on Healy lawn. Golden retrievers leaping for thrown frisbees. Music in the air. Red solo cups in hands. Yes! This was what I wanted. Just like that I veered to DC, and I never left because I met someone.

Took a job at Xerox because my boyfriend worked there. Rented a group beach house in someplace called Rehoboth that summer, since everyone else was doing it. The ‘tacky shack’ we called it. Bought our first home and made new friends who started inviting us to their place in Rehoboth. Fast forward we buy a house there. Now my sister and sister-in-law have homes here too.

Steps intertwine.

My alarm goes off and I have a choice. The sky is beginning to lighten out my window.  I swing my legs over the bed and dress for running. I lace up my shoes and step out the door to go find the sun.

How did I get here? (I keep thinking of the Talking Heads). I chose it.

Where to step next,
SARAH

.....old friends

Yogis,
A friend who was a running partner for years asked if we could run together again. After ten years of solo 5:30 am running, what a welcome change to have someone to share stories with on dark cold mornings.

I then heard from a friend who now lives in Virginia asking to get together for a hike. We settled on the trails in her town followed by lunch at an adorable French café. We try to do something every few months.

My week wrapped up with our annual Lobsterfest gathering. This year eight of us converged at my home for an evening of good food, good drinks and laughter. Lots of laughter.

I have history with all of these people. Meeting them in my twenties, we have traveled life together. Raised children, navigated careers, life milestones, illnesses and even the heartaches of death.

I call these old friends.

It got me thinking. What defines an ‘old friend’? Is it because we are old?

There certainly has been a lot of discussion this year on aging. That happens in your sixties. All of us in various stages of retirement, decisions on where to live, and inevitable turns in conversations to physical changes and ailments we are experiencing. Way more discussions on facial hair, feet, arthritis……than I could have envisioned in my youth.

Yet it isn’t age that makes us old friends. And it isn’t the length of time we know them. You can be friends with someone for a long time without that label.

My friend sent a note saying how easy our time together felt this week. Yes! I had noticed the exact same thing. Comfortable. Like putting on your favorite old sweater on the first cold day. It feels right.

We all know each other so well. They know my past and I know theirs. We go months or years without seeing each other, yet as we walk through the door it’s as if not a moment has passed. Effortless. And I know that if there is anything I ever need, I can count on them implicitly.

That’s what makes old friends.

I am grateful to have many,
SARAH

....cycles

Yogis,
The raking season has begun…..

I raked the front yard at home and then spent dedicated time at the beach this weekend gathering and pushing heavy piles of leaves to the street. This is only the beginning. A first pass.

There is something about raking, and fall in general, that reminds me of the cyclical nature of life. How everything, including these leaves I move mindfully to protect my back, is created, enjoys a life span and comes to an eventual end. Everything.

This year it is hitting me in a somewhat different way. That even the things we most enjoy may at some point become something we are meant to release. Perhaps it is because I sit here surrounded by bubble wrap, packing paper and moving boxes. In a month our 1926 beach cottage will begin its transformation with an addition and remodel and while I am excited, there is also a sadness.

For twenty-two years I have loved the house just the way it is. Old pine floors, a powder room where you hold your knees in close not to bump the sink as you sit, and corner closets that if you are lucky, can hold a couple hanging shirts. We hosted numerous Thanksgiving dinners for up to twenty and fit the visiting kids in the bunk room with sleeping bags and mattresses. The house has done her job for us beautifully.

Yet life is changing and wanting to spend more time here has pushed us to let go of how things are and embrace what lies ahead. Still keeping the cottage charm we will be able to spread our wings, and our cramped living room furniture, a bit more.

This happens with everything. I had a volunteer role I adored until it suddenly  began to feel like a chore. We may lose passion for a lifelong hobby. A career feels stuck. Our interests, food choices, what we read, our clothes…..all live within this natural and inevitable cycle of life. The challenge is recognizing the time to let go and move on.

I better get back to packing.

Only when we release is there room for new,
SARAH

.....words

Yogis,
In my love affair with words I have learned to respect the power each one holds. A word, like everything else in the Universe, is an energy. Sounds, which when put together in a particular way, form a vibration. Every vibration then in turn has an effect on whatever or wherever it is directed.

Words have impact.

We can feel it in our bodies. When I say the word ‘tangy’ I feel it in the upper body with an almost shiver like experience. But when I say the word ‘mellow’ the movement of energy is calm and low.

Every single word we speak affects the world……and ourselves. Words can bring unity, shame, lift spirits, anger or create joy.  Makes you realize how careful we should be with words. The old adage….think before you speak (although I prefer….feel before you speak.)

You know that inner voice who chatters all day long with no lunch break or vacation? We each have one and those internal words have the same effect. Words do not have to leave the lips to yield power. In fact, often inner ones are even stronger because they have us held captive.  

This is where mantra comes in. A sacred utterance…..  Words or sentences repeated which change your vibration.

We can choose the words for that incessant internal dialogue. It may not feel like it. The voice pretends to be boss, but buried below lies the quiet one who can decide what it says. Mantra can make this process a little easier.

Let’s try it together.

Fall has settled in here as acorns and leaves rain down. A season of letting go. We too can choose to let go.

Settle into your seat and get quiet. Notice you are breathing. Tune to that inner space. Once you feel you’ve arrived, mentally repeat the mantra ‘I let go’ and pay attention to any sensations in the body or changes in how you feel. Slowly Over and over. Try closing the eyes or repeating it only on exhales.

Choose the words that vibrate the way you want to.

This week may be the perfect time to work with this practice,
SARAH