.....change isn't hard

Yogis,
I was out for a walk with Phoebe the other morning, a little after 6am. A cold crisp morning where yesterday’s melt was once again a nearly invisible sheen of ice, blanketing the street and driveways. Carefully planting my feet with each step. Gaze set to the ground. Heel toe, heel toe.

The human world still snuggled in bed with the slowly brightening sky lighting my path. Such a gift after months of dark morning walks. A sure sign of springs approach. Looking up I could see that yesterday’s clouds were thinning, edged in coral, with little peaks of baby blue exposed as they floated overhead.

I hear the first robin’s chirp break the morning silence. A cardinal quickly follows. Another whistles in response. And another…..until the air that surrounds me is filled with their chatter. I can feel their excitement that yet another new day has arrived and it makes them all want to sing! They in turn awaken in me the same sentiment. I lift my gaze and chin skyward, spread my chest and emanate out my greeting of Happy New Day! To the birds. To the Universe. To all humans whose eyes have net yet opened to witness this newness.

I stood still as an image flooded in of everyone experiencing this exact same thing with me. All of us. Everywhere. As each person arose and placed their feet on the earth they heard the birds and joined into the song.

That we had all awoken on this particular day, a day which otherwise may have gone unnoticed,  and collectively decided that we were ready for monumental change. That this magnificent morning was the one we were choosing. Eager to let go of everything that has happened and move forward with a new way of being. Together.

As we encountered others on the street we would rush in to hug and share this new joy. Those that have been our friends, those that hadn’t and even those we don’t know. Stripping off our coats that labeled us Republican or Democrat, Catholic or Muslim. Letting the wind blow off the brainwashing that has convinced us who is right and who is wrong. Seeing everyone as what they are…..another human who yearns to be loved, accepted and filled with joy. Can you see it?

I know, I know. This is only a dream, right? Too simplistic. The vision is created and held for only a split second before the mind begins to list all of the buts and cants. The world doesn’t work like that. Change is hard and can’t happen overnight. Baby steps we are told.

But why, I ask. Why?

We always hear that change is hard. It’s hard to switch to a healthy diet. It’s hard to maintain an exercise program. It’s hard to meditate and quiet the mind. Yet when you think about it, change cannot be ‘hard’.

Every single thing in life is changing with every breath you take. Nothing stays the same. Even the body you woke up in will not be the one that lies down tonight. Change is quite easy, and we live it every single moment. Resisting change? Now that is a challenge.

Let’s rewrite the story! Change is not hard. We can at any moment choose to flow into the sea of possibilities with ease.  

I am going to hold on to my vision and maybe you will join me. And like the robins and cardinals, another of you will respond back. And another and another until our collective joy fills the morning air.

Good morning birds,
SARAH

.....I have something to say

Yogis,
We have several major energy centers in our bodies and one of them is at the base of the throat. Our communication center. It is here that we find our voice.

The funny thing is we have multiple voices. Listen to yourself over these next few days and see if you can hear each one. Maybe you have your parent voice. You know, the one that drives kids crazy and causes eyeballs to roll. Or then there is the work voice. Suddenly knowledgeable and exuding confidence, even though you have absolutely no idea how to handle the issue at hand.  

The friend voice, the neighbor voice or the one that as you are speaking even you are wondering who this person is. These are all masks we select based on what we believe is expected of us at the time, how we can best fit it, or what will make others think better of us. These voices are composed and spoken from our thinking mind.

Then we have another voice. This one is pure, expressing itself using words that arise from much deeper. Your authentic voice. The voice of the true you who lies below the mind and does not bend to whims of the outer world.  It takes  the light of your inner world and shares it with others, never causing harm.

When we meet someone and have our standard chit chat, we form an instant impression of who this person is by the voice they use.  Friendly. Demeaning. Strong willed. Quiet.  Yet these are not them. Over time spending more time together we begin to sense the one behind the mask. Suddenly finding ourselves explaining to others that he ‘isn’t like that’ and knowing they don’t believe us.

The voice is one aspect of our throat. This is also our radio tower where our vibration radiates out. The unique note that you are. When close to another we can feel it and at times the vibration seems out of tune with the voice we hear. It feels there is something they need to say, but for some reason they can’t.

There are many reasons this happens and when it does, we feel trapped. Not able to allow the pure me on the inside to be seen and heard on the outside. The throat door has been locked. The energy when our throat center is clear and open is freedom, and this is anything but free. Swallowing our words.

When we keep busy and live in our thoughts there is no issue. The noise keeps us from even hearing our inner voice which won’t try to yell over thoughts. Often this may be why we dread times of quiet and stillness. When we sit in silence we can’t help but hear our voice. And if it differs from the mind’s voice, do we have the courage to unlock the door…..

That is what meditation is to me. Taking a set amount of time every day to listen. To hear myself and what I want from this precious life I have been gifted. The meditation practice then helps me to feel safe enough to let others hear.

My throat energy has always been my ‘work in progress.’ I realized this week that in a way this blog has been a vehicle for letting the inner me speak. Letting you hear my heart. Letting me out.

Thank you for hearing me,
SARAH

.....wintery mix

Yogis,
This week a small gift of appreciation arrived at my door from a company with whom we do business. Enclosed was a card which read ‘Looking ahead to better times and better weather!’ I totally understood the intent. Having now come out the other end of 2020 I often hear talk of better times coming. Add in wintery mix as our predominant weather forecast lately, and I hear the implied wish for the return of sunny skies.

For some reason though, as I read it something about it did not sit right.

We seem to be in the wintery mix weather pattern. One moment hearing the patter of rain on the roof, and the next the click click click of ice hitting the windows. Looking over my shoulder I glimpse a quick burst of snow. Once I think it has all stopped, I look closer only to see light freezing rain. Winter’s complete bundle.

I started to notice that each time I mentioned it to anyone, I was adding the prefix ‘dreaded’ to its name, making my feelings clear. In discussions I badmouthed it, couldn’t imagine why we would want it and clearly wasn’t looking very hard for a good side.

Yesterday morning I headed out on my run with hopes of beating the incoming weather back to the house. Pausing on my tree seat, my head back and eyes closed, I felt the first drop of rain. Another. And another. An ice pellet hits my nose. The sky is nondescript. My hands are cold. Even the birds get quiet.

“Is it only a good day when the sun is shining?” the universe asks. “Are you only happy when skies are clear? Will the bitter cold temperatures turn this day into a bad day? If I create warmth for you every day will your life be fuller? Will your worries melt away?”

I stayed to listen.

“Are they not all gifts?” the universe continued. “Without the life-giving rain you would go thirsty. Wouldn’t something be missing without ice for your drink on those hot summer days? What would it be like to never glide on frozen ponds or see the intricacies hidden in an icicle?  Or is it that they are only gifts when they arrive on your terms?”

“Have you forgotten that you always have the power to create your own sunshine?”

Sigh. Of course, once again you are right. We want to be very wary when we find ourselves waiting for better days and better weather. We could be waiting a lifetime. This day, this life and all of its messiness is a gift, and our happiness is not determined by how it arrives. That light can only be created on the inside whether it be a perfect spring day or a gray February morning blanketed by wintery mix.

I headed home and changed into my favorite oversized wool sweater. I set up a cozy sitting space in which to paint, read and drink my hot tea. Able to look out the window and watch as the world was transformed into a winter wonderland. It was a joy filled day.

Nope, I am not waiting for better times or better weather.

Grateful for wintery mix……
SARAH

.....shining my light

Yogis,
When you finally get quiet and check in on what’s happening on the inside you typically bump into the mind first. Like a loud friend, thoughts, one after another streaming through. They list out everything that has to get done, replay what happened yesterday and share their favorite theme of what is wrong with both you and the world. Blah, blah, blah.

If you are willing to sit a bit longer, become silent and go deeper, beneath the thinking mind, you will encounter another you. The you that watches the thoughts. The you that isn’t making comments or judging everything as right or wrong but is simply observing. Can you find it? I will call this your awareness. And wherever you point your awareness, expansion and light will follow.

This story began with two pale yellow birdhouses that have hung beneath Danny’s garage eaves next door for as long as I can remember. A reliable home for the sparrows. When Danny died last summer, I realized that the birds he had befriended and tended would need a new home, so I transferred the houses to my front porch roof, facing their original home. Hopeful that they, like me, would be willing to make a move next door.

Each morning I watched for activity. Looking for any new pieces of straw at the openings. I bought bird seed and filled a jar to keep on the porch. With a whistle I tossed seed each afternoon into the fallen leaves which line the front. Whenever I came or went I listened for their rustling in the boxwoods….a perfect hiding place…..and sent a hearty hello  their way. Soon messy puffs of material are hanging from their new digs.

We then discovered a discarded feeder next door which was promptly hung in the center of our front yard. Before long the titmouse, cardinal and chickadees were excitedly flying back and forth from the cover of our large holly trees. When teaching, as I ask everyone to notice what they are hearing in their homes, I am now flooded by bird songs in mine.

Suddenly birds cross my path from every direction. Everyone keeps mentioning birds to me. A hawk flies over my shoulder. A friend recommends a podcast named ‘I worship every bird that I see’. I listen as I sit painting a cardinal.

A post crosses my path for a site where you click on the bird in a tree to hear its call. It reminds me how for years I would ask what sound a particular bird makes, only to find that they, like us, have many voices! To know them we must be willing listeners. I of course click on the cardinal first and at that same moment, a cardinal out the window begins to sing the same songs. I feel closer.

Everywhere I go I hear them. Their calls hold my awareness down below the din of humans. I stop to look them in the eye and watch as their throat forms their words. Thanking them for their patience as I learn.

I have tuned my awareness to the path of birds and a world opened up. Awareness is like a high-powered flashlight. Choose any path you want to follow and shine away! It will guide and surprise you in ways your thinking mind couldn’t imagine.

This morning on my run I was about to turn left when a symphony in a small patch of woods stopped me in my tracks. I entered and stood dead center, closed my eyes and was surrounded and serenaded by a flock of robins. I shined my awareness back to them all.

Where are you shining your light?

I can’t wait to see what is up around the next bend,
SARAH

....being winter

Yogis,
Each season carries its own energy. The cool wet playfulness of spring, with her burst of forward energy asks us to let down our hair and sing. Summer, ruled by the fire of the sun, offers fullness and abundance and a chance to manifest our dreams. The winds of fall on which leaves travel, signal a time to shed unnecessary layers and trust in divine order. Then there is winter.

This week winter finally arrived here in the mid Atlantic. A full week of dipping temperatures and bracing winds that had me pulling out the ‘serious’ coat. The one I save for true winter for fear that if I start wearing it too early, I will have no back up plan for the days when wind chills become part of the weatherman’s forecast. I am glad winter is here.

As someone who grew up on the east coast with four reliable seasons year after year, I would feel lost if somehow one went missing. Incomplete. As if I was on a four country tour and inflight to the final destination the pilot announced that he had decided to take us home instead. Disappointed.

The energies of winter are cold, heavy, quiet and still and this week they were all on display. Where less than two weeks ago we had a day with kids riding their bikes in short sleeves and neighbors chatting in front yards, this week whenever I opened the door I saw nothing. Nada. Quiet. Still. And cold.

It takes the cold to convince us to go inside, both literally and figuratively. To stop doing and begin being. And when we do the mind, over time, also begins to slow and become quiet. We become more aware. In tune with what is here.

As I ventured out, bundled in my trusty coat and new neck gator (a winter upgrade!) I noticed that with the world so still, anything that does appear can’t help but be noticed in this crystal-clear air against a dull grey background. A handsome bright red cardinal lands under my faded blue birdbath in the garden. The plump berries on the holly tree attract the attention of a flock of robins. The wind and I both howled under the glow of the full Wolf moon seen rising through bare trees.

In the quiet, where the usual cacophony of noises is not competing for our attention, each sound becomes distinct. Heard. The ruckus of the crows as they argue overhead. A startling throaty squawk from a gangly blue heron who lifts from the ground effortlessly under the power of his immense wings. Windchimes. The packing down of snow under my boots and my own breath under my scarf. The clickety-clack of bare branches colliding, like an instrument being played by old man winter.

Winter represents death. As I look to my garden I know that all life underground is resting. The roots and seeds lie quiet and still as they nurture themselves. They understand the energy that will be required of them come spring to push their way through the hardened ground as new life. Winter also represents the beginning.

These energies of nature are also found within us as we are not separate, and we need them all for wholeness. The four seasons create the perfect circle of life and every year they give us another opportunity to practice it within ourselves. I am finally getting better at this winter thing.

It has only taken 59 years,
SARAH

.......little joys

Yogis,
Sometimes I catch myself putting my head down and plodding from day to day. Without awareness, life becomes rote. It starts to feel like the routines and commitments are what define us and can leave me feeling a little bit numb. Is this it?

One activity I find helpful when I find myself stuck in this energy is to do a week in review. Sitting quietly to watch a rerun of my life. I notice that when watched from a distance, all of the little unexpected joys suddenly leap out from my inner screen. Take this past week for example.

I went into it expecting quiet. No plans on the calendar (nothing new there). Regular class schedule, cooking dinners and caring for Phoebe who is recovering from acl surgery. Monday at lunch time I open the front door for a walk and find a box in my path. The label indicates flowers within and I double check before opening to be sure they are indeed at the right home.  A spectacular bouquet of farm flowers greets me with a card from my sister. She wanted me to know she was thinking of me. How awesome is that!

The owl continued to serenade us each evening. When I hear the call, I rush to the window, humbled to be in her company.

Tuesday night my son reaches out with an urgent request. Could they stay with us for a few days while the floors in their ongoing kitchen renovation are stained? Beginning in the morning. I quickly get the bedrooms ready, set out towels and make a soup. Suddenly our overly quiet home transforms with four workspaces, online school, a crib and the exuberant energy of children.  Woken in the morning by eager eyes peering in on me and whispers of ‘are you awake Nana?’ The possibility of a shower becomes a mere wish but smelling them as I hug them good night makes my heart smile.

A friend gifted me an amaryllis bulb for Christmas and I have watched the stalk growing on my front window ledge for the past three weeks. And grow and grow and grow. Friday morning, she catches my eye and my breath with a stunning white bloom. Layers of luscious white petals inviting you into her center. A goddess.

Friday afternoon it’s on to the beach for a quiet weekend….but wait. My other son asks if he and his fiancé can come to check out a potential wedding venue. Once again, setting up bedrooms and gathering food. The weekend was frigid, so we spend much of it gathered around the glow of the fireplace. The comforts of the familiar smell and crackling wood the ideal backdrop for discussion and perfectly grilled tuna.  

On a walk to the beach in the late afternoon, the ocean acts as a mirror reflecting the setting sun which sits on my shoulder.  The half moon and little dipper. Blooms on my Lenten rose…..the first sign that spring will indeed come once again.  Evidence of a beaver at the river as I search the sky for a rare bird with a friend.

Yes, I still taught all of my classes, made dinners and spent considerable time caring for Phoebe, but what stands out are the unexpected moments of joy which shine when the light of awareness is pointed their way. They are always there…..if we lift our head up.

A week in review a nice habit to fall into,
SARAH

....I would never hurt you

Yogis,
This morning I paused on my run to rest in my trusty tree seat. The path around me quiet as most people seemed to be still huddled in the warmth of their homes on this lazy winter Sunday. I imagined them, hands wrapped around mugs, wool socks on their feet. The sound of newspaper pages being turned.

The sky was early morning gray and the landscape more shades of brown than are imaginable. The river running next to me finally that olive green that she becomes in the dead winter cold. I turn my head to the right and see her. How had I missed her? She is lying down, her colors blended so perfectly with the tree behind her that they appear to be one. Only the white encircling her eyes which are now set on me, gives her away. She too appears to be wondering how she could possibly have not seen me. A thin strip of river separates us.

I wave hello. She considers but feels the need to stand up. To get a better look perhaps. Sense my intentions. I say good morning and tell her how beautiful she is. I ask if she is over there alone. Where is your family? As if on cue, four more deer reluctantly lift up from the brush where they were resting. I wave again, sorry to have disturbed them. I would never hurt you…….

But we do.

This week I have been feeling a deep sorrow over our treatment of the earth and her creatures. As our mother she gives us everything we need. Our food. Our clothing. Our shelter. Warmth. Water. Beauty.  I watch as we take, and take, and take, and take with no end in sight. Where is the relationship? She must be so tired.

I am reminded of when my boys were adolescents. A necessary stage of life where children begin to pull away to find their independence. A time devoted to developing a sense of me. Separation, necessary for personal growth. But as the mom it is a challenging time. Adolescents take and take and take, and yet are still always irritated with you. Mom is the supplier but should be quiet the rest of the time. At times it is emotionally draining.

I can still remember though, going alone to visit my oldest in college during his senior year. It was time for me to head home and I was parked a few blocks away. He insisted on walking me to my car. I said good-bye but he waited while I got in, made sure the car started and watched as I drove away. I had tears in my eyes. It was the first moment where I knew he was transitioning to adult. He was now giving back. A full relationship.

I listened to an interview of Francis Weller who discussed how we have become a society stuck in adolescence. Me, me, me. Our metrics of success all driven by personal accomplishment. The American dream. It struck a chord. And I don’t have to venture far from my front door to see its effects. Roads widening so we aren’t inconvenienced by traffic. Trees coming down to make way for larger homes. Insects being sprayed. The list goes on and on…..

We all say we want to change the trajectory, but until we round the bend into adulthood where the needs of another come before our own, it is only a wish. The government cannot fix this. We must do the work. Awakening to the realization that what we do to earth we are doing to ourselves.  

I would never hurt you…….

Om,
SARAH