.....bones of the earth

Yogis

I spend most of my life on rocks.

My home was built in 1948 on top of an old quarry, which I am reminded of every time I stick my shovel in the dirt. Even though I will have planted a foot away, I still end up wrestling some massive buried rock until it finally breaks free, leaving me panting, sweaty and covered with dirt.  

I only have to walk down my path into the woods behind the house to view the beautiful old quarry face, now sprouting ferns and even small trees from its crevices. The creek bed that runs through is lined with broken rock and is home to quaint stone bridges and an old standing fireplace, reminiscent of a time gone by.  As I lie in bed, I am held by all this rock beneath me.

When I leave the house, it is often for my daily trips to the creek or river. Both also lined with rock. In fact, our entire town is mostly stone, with four quarries originally operating within not much more than a square mile. All the trails include rock scrambling and for those learning to rock climb there are even faces on which to practice with incredible views of the river. My feet know the ways of the rocks.

This week I watched as my feet walked across rocks, felt myself sitting on rocks, and noticed the multitude of rocks that I have found over time that now sit out on display in almost every room of the

house. Rocks ground me.

Luckily, I love rocks! I always have.

It was as I was sitting on a rock taking a picture of tree roots that my eyes became drawn to the rock bed I had just walked across. Every color, shape and size. Each unique. Each amazing when looked at from a different perspective.

In drum circle this week we were reminded by our teacher that rocks are the bones of Mother Earth. They hold the ancient knowledge. There are the grandmother and grandfather stones and are even the way we mark our own passing. Ah, the stories they could tell…….

Rocks are sturdy. Rocks are still. Rocks are quiet. Rocks are strong. They are dependable and solid. Many of the qualities we work to embed within ourselves. Rocks are our foundation.

Watch for the rocks in your life this week! I know there is at least one out there that will wave to you and be grateful for being noticed.

Written in stone,
SARAH

.....voice inside my head

Yogis,
The alarm goes off. Its dark outside and I am buried under my covers, snug and warm. “You could skip today. You probably didn’t get enough sleep and you could go for a walk later. It’s cold out there” says my inner voice in a convincing tone.  I take a deep breath, push the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. A few minutes later I am in my running clothes and out the door.

I have been observing the voice inside lately. You know the one I mean? The chatter in the head that speaks to you from the moment you wake until you drift off into dreamland. The one that has a comment or judgment on absolutely everything. And if you awaken in the middle of the night, well that’s when it has the most to say.

I am realizing that it gives me pretty much the same advice almost every morning. Never does the alarm go off and it yell, “Yay, it’s morning! Jump up and get out there and run!”  It’s as if it would like to derail me from my intentions. Why is that?

I’m sure the voice sounds slightly different in each of us. Probably varying accents, tones of voice and favorite topics. For some it loves to harp on doubt, for others its favorite pastime is guilt. It loves resentment and can speak endlessly on the subject of worry. And it is overjoyed to have you as its captive audience.

I have been watching as I come up with new ideas for workshops……”no one will want to come to that”……or contemplate writing a book……’that will be overwhelming and too much work.” Even simple things like when it is time to clean out a closet…….”you should wait until tomorrow.” Finally sitting down on the couch to rest……”you’re wasting time.” It clearly doesn’t like us to make changes, step forward or move outside of our comfort zone.

It is the mind’s job to protect us, but if we allow it to hold the reins we are like the child with a hovering parent. The one who isn’t allowed to do anything for fear it may get hurt. Stuck. Stagnant. Unable to move forward in our life’s purpose.

When, however, you become very quiet and still you can begin to hear another much softer voice. The one speaking from your soul. This voice knows you are always safe, perfect and quite capable of achieving anything you choose to pursue.  It moves forward with you.

The path to detaching from the boisterous mental chatter and tuning in to ‘you’ is meditation. An ancient practice that over time helps you step back and observe, and even smile at, the unrequested advice given by the mind. Tuning your frequency into the whisper of the deeper, often buried voice that wants you to be happy and free.

As I am running back up the street toward the house the sun is beginning to lighten the sky. An owl flies over head. My heart is beating in my chest and my breath chilled by the air. I feel awake and alive……and thankful yet again that I didn’t listen to the chatter.

What does your voice tell you? Notice.

Watching the noise,
SARAH

.....we fell in

Yogis,
On an exceedingly beautiful autumn weekend, four amazing women chose to ‘fall in’ with me. The bags have now been packed, cars loaded and they are down the road, yet their energy lingers. I can still hear their voices.

It always amazes me how a random group can gather and within 2 days a bond is formed. I witness it over and over as I attend training, retreats and gatherings, and was shown it clearly yet again this weekend. There is something about sharing meals, walks, feelings and chocolate that forms a glue, allowing each one of us to crack open a little more.

Together we prepared, served, ate and cleaned up five different meals…..not an easy chore, yet it felt seamless. Like an orchestra, each taking a role, the five of us moved through the kitchen with ease. This one setting the table, while another chopped and one stirring the pot. Creative ideas shared for use of leftovers and even the seeds from the butternut squash ended up roasted and in a bowl. Goddesses.

A walk off trail at the river pushed some out of comfort zones. For others, simply signing up a brave step.  We leaned on trees, found walnuts, identified plants and stood mesmerized by the rush of the river. Late in the day the fire was lit while the sun began its descent.  We each wrote what no longer serves us, to then offer to the flames. Transformed into smoke, not unlike the transformation some in the group were seeking. Wise women.

Our beverage of choice was nourishing herbal infusions and our plates wore every color imaginable. The orange of the squash, ruby red pomegranate seeds, tri color quinoa and vivid green fennel. Eating for this Vata (air) season, our breakfasts consisted of warm cooked grains paired with nuts, seeds, nutmeg and dates. The flatbread recipe I saw in a doctor’s office magazine on Wednesday became lunch and…..oh my gosh. An orgy for both the eyes and mouth. Medicine women.

I recently saw a picture of someone’s thumb and index finger holding a piece of paper in the air by its corner. The message was that the effort is in holding on. Letting go is effortless. This is where the name ‘Falling in…” was derived. Practicing surrender. That became our discussion, vision and mantra. Not easy, but then again, not hard.

The tea kettle was always warm, rituals began to become familiar and we dared to look into each other’s eyes. Each unique, yet as we soon discovered, all the same. “Falling in…..” is in the books!

Grateful,
SARAH

PS I'm sorry but does anyone else feel like this day is going to go on forever?

.....gifts

Yogis,
For the last few months we have been under a drought. Weeks with no rain at all, and then when it would arrive, a few drops later it would move along. I knew the river was extremely low but I haven’t been spending time down there with all of my daily creek visits. This week, however, I had a slow day and announced to Phoebe that we were off to the river, much to her delight.  

When we arrived, my favorite rock I sit on by the water’s edge was now yards back from shore. Whole new paths uncovered and islands which are typically unreachable without a boat, now accessible by foot. So off we went!

The next two hours flew by as we hopped from rock to rock, crawled under fallen trees and sat on the perfect seat made by the trunk of the sycamore tree which I have often photographed from afar. A young mullein plant graced my path and I found a face in a rotting log observing us as we traveled.

Phoebe often showed me the best path from island to island with her keen sense of direction. We explored, finding beautiful shells and the intricate pattern of tree roots which live in the river, but now reach only into air. Wildflowers, hidden ponds and clear evidence that the deer had been through recently. All of this on land which is almost always feet under water.

When it was time to leave and we had hiked back to shore I turned to say thank you…..but then my heart opened even more as I saw the islands ablaze in reds and golds and realized what a gift I had been given. These precious hours in this amazing place.

I looked up various definitions of ‘gift’ and the one that came closest to what I felt was – something bestowed without any particular effort by the recipient. The Universe had indeed bestowed.

This weekend I had my grandson with me. Whenever he arrives, he first wants to play fire trucks, but then his next question is when we are going to the creek. I have always taken him there and he too has fallen in love. But yesterday I convinced him to come to the river.

Another two hours…..rock throwing, getting close to the plants with the camera, becoming still to watch the small fish swim by and hearing the flocks of birds fill the tree tops. We noticed that the slower we moved, the more we noticed. Standing still in one spot we witnessed spiders, crickets, hidden flowers and the leftovers from a squirrels walnut eating lunch break.

Gifts are meant to be shared and by giving we receive back again! What joy to see the river a second time through the eyes of a 4-year-old. Two gifts in one week!

As we wrapped up our second day together, I was reminded of another gift I have received……yoga. If it weren’t for my yoga practice I don’t know that I could have gotten up and down from the floor probably 40 times, scrambled rocks, crawled under the dining room table to the ‘fire station’ and played endless games of pretend baseball in the yoga studio without injuring myself. Thank you, Universe!

We never know when gifts are going to arrive…… and often the best ones do not come in the mail.

Each moment a chance for something amazing,
SARAH

......this is not mine

Yogis,

Yesterday I led a yin workshop with the theme of letting go. In our hectic world this has become a much talked about, written about, taught about topic with courses, meditations and self-help books all available to supposedly teach us how to do it. But at it’s core, what does it really mean to let go?

Autumn is the season which shows us how letting go looks. Fall, filled with loss, clearly displays impermanence. How nothing (with one exception) remains the same. Oh, how that law of the universe makes us suffer. And there is no better role model within autumn for us to look up to, than the tree.

Imagine being a tree. Throughout the entire spring, summer and early fall it is your leaves that keep you alive. Every day these leaves work, reaching for the sun to draw in its energy and convert it to nourishment. However, once the days become shorter the tree must turn its attention inward to prepare for hibernation. Without hesitation, in a celebration bursting with color it begins to let go of those life-giving leaves. Every single leaf allowed to blow off in a breeze.

The tree doesn’t hold on to the ones that bring back memories. Nor the ones that have a high value. It doesn’t only send off those that are worn and tired or hold each one up and ask if it still brings joy. No….it allows all of them to fall.  Knowing that it is not only fine, but necessary to empty at times.

Our minds make this all a little more complicated. The list of things we cling to is long. Possessions, anger, the past, control, other people, expectations and perhaps the most challenging – thoughts and beliefs. We attach to all of them as if they define who we are. The tree knows that the leaves are not her and don’t ‘belong’ to her. She is secure in her sense of self.

This is not mine……

We arrive in this world with only the human body the encases us, and we will leave the same way. In between we will accumulate, cling to and proclaim that objects, people, property, beliefs are ‘mine’, but how silly that all truly is. They are simply spending time with us, but all are impermanent, none can be ‘owned’ and they can be swept away in a blink of the eye. Oh, how that makes us suffer.

You can only lose what you cling to   ~ Buddha

I was up at my parents last week to celebrate my father’s 85^th birthday and my mom and I had a conversation we have often. As the two of us travel through the different decades of life, we agree that we never feel any different inside. The body has changed a bit, different clothes, changes to the houses, evolving beliefs, but deep inside those same young girls live untouched. The soul that arrived at birth and will someday merge back is the one constant. The only thing worth holding as ‘mine’.

Everything else, like the leaves, should be enjoyed and loved wholeheartedly, but let go of effortlessly whenever it is time. One cannot try to let go……one needs only to let go. No book can teach us that. We must go inward, like the tree, to find this one truth.

This is not mine,
SARAH

....oh deer

Yogis,

My soul plant is Mullein. My soul color is brown. My soul animal is the deer….and this is their time of year.

As the sun begins setting earlier and the air cools, the deer reemerge in force to feed and prepare for both winter and mating season, also called rutting season.  Rutting season spans late September through November with the peak being October and fawns arriving in May and June. Suddenly deer seem to be everywhere! In the yard, in open fields and running in front of your car at dusk.

Last Friday as I walked Phoebe down our block at 5 am it looked like a deer parade. Every few steps a doe would stick her head out from behind a bush with those wide-open eyes and ears pointing skyward, acting utterly shocked that a human would be there. In one yard a doe stood with her two young ones intently watching us pass only to be startled when we literally almost bumped into them on at the curve in the street on the return. Where did you come from, they seemed to ask?  Deer me!

This week the deer parties have begun in earnest. Opening the front door first thing in the morning exposes a herd in the front yard eating acorns from our old magnificent oak. All heads rise in unison, snapping to attention, kind of like being a teenager and having your parents walk in at that inopportune moment. Oh, deer me!

Late this summer a sign was posted at our creek that for the first time, deer bow hunting by marksmen was going to occur beginning in September. As you can imagine this has generated some heated discussions online both in favor and against. Reading through them I discovered that there are the deer lovers and then the not so much group, with complaints ranging from car collisions to missing tops of plants to the general I don’t want wildlife in my yard (which is a newly evolving suburban group).

I’m clearly in the deer lover camp. To me they are the most docile, sweet, innocent, beautiful creatures who never intend harm to anyone or any other creature. How many of us can say that? Their ‘over population’ mainly has been caused by us building more and larger homes, pools, paved driveways and stores on what was their home. Then we place delicious food in the yard and are surprised when they partake. Oh deer…..

I have never battled them in the garden. The plants which I find never making it to adulthood, I replace with something else less appealing to their taste buds. I plant more herbs and medicinal plants vs the ornamentals that seem to be at the top of their menu picks. When they do munch, I remind myself that the plants aren’t ‘mine’ and that the deer and I both deserve to share in the bounty of mother earth. And surprisingly I have discovered that the haircut they give the black eyed susans each spring cause each chewed end to produce multiple stalks for an ocean of yellow come summer. 

So, I am more than fine cohabitating on this land with the deer. When they look me in the eye it is as if they can see my soul and I always give them a wave. This fall I have been telling them to stay put and not venture down to the creek. I hope they are listening…….

All are welcome,
SARAH

......a different view

Yogis,
Fall appears to finally be gracing us with her presence. My walks on the creek trails are now crunchy with fallen leaves. It’s also that time to be mindful of the black walnut balls scattered on the ground so as not to sprain an ankle, as well as those plummeting down from above with such force that I swear they could knock you out if they hit you just right.

My garden too suddenly looks fall like. The colors are changing and flower heads browning. The decline and inevitable death of this year’s plants has begun in earnest. Everything looking a bit worn and tattered.

There is an impulse that wells up to begin ‘tidying up’. To clip off the bug eaten leaves, remove the spent flowers and pull up the tired annuals. Wanting to leave only what is green, alive and vibrant. As humans we don’t tend to do well with the signs of death. Perhaps in some way it reminds us that we too will have our fall. Pulling back our own wrinkles and covering our age spots.

These last few days I have gone out to nature with my camera to look at death from a different view. To see if even in dying I can find the beauty. What I found was perfect…….. 

I walked quietly and without purpose allowing my eyes to move slowly from thing to thing, watching my mind judge and then exhaling to allow those preconceptions to fade. Seeing everything with new eyes. Seeing the world exactly as it is. It began with a leaf chewed through leaving behind an intricate design of shapes and swirls, like an artist’s stencil.

The sunflower’s petals now more like colorful streamers, her head still faces skyward. The crowd of black eyed susans clearly demonstrating how they came by their name and butterfly weed seeds carried as if on wings. A cracked open beech nut (which means a happy squirrel) like a sculpture.

Down at the creek the brown leaves lying beneath the water’s edge look like a well-planned painting. The echinacea flower appears dried and dead until you look very closely and realize that instead what you are seeing are the waiting seeds, each one holding the potential of a whole new life.

Even in the house there is beauty in the falling if you stay open to it. Red roses that had brought us such joy during teacher training began to wilt and bow their heads. I snipped them off the stems and have them in a bowl as a centerpiece on the table. Eventually their dried petals will add color and scent to my bath salts.

And by allowing the natural life cycle to occur without my intervention, the birds and small animals know they will find food and shelter in the brown of my garden. Nature doing her job well.

Life holds beauty in each and every stage…..if you take a different view.

Seeing the perfection,
SARAH