.....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

.....never the same

Yogis,
Those who know me know I like going to the same places over and over. Whether a vacation to the Outer Banks or Stone Harbor (close to 40 years), the trails I hike, or the restaurants I eat in, I enjoy the act of returning. Again and again and again.

I was thinking about this while sitting by the Cabin John creek with Phoebe at my side. The park sits a mile from home and offers winding wooded trails and a running creek, all framed by incredible views with craggy rock formations. I have been there hundreds of times and usually in the same mile radius.

Many people may think it would be boring. Going to the same place day after day and seeing the same things? Don’t I want to go to new places? But nothing really ever is the same…..is it. In fact, every time I go, the creek is new.

Nothing stays the same.

Today it was the reflections in the water that caught my attention. A beautiful fall day with a light breeze causing a ripple on the surface, creating images reminiscent of impressionist paintings. Designs and swirls asking which way is up.

The trees that only last week wore a deep emerald green are now tinged with color. Early fallen leaves lay on rocks in reds and oranges. The songs of the insects softer now.

My reflection mirrors me as I carefully step rock to rock. Who I see below has also changed from years of these visits. A little creakier but strong. Wisdom lines carved in my skin. Small life shifts happen as seasons change.

A rock cairn will appear and vanish days later. The air, shadows, sounds…..vary every moment. Plants arrive and grandfather trees fall, blocking my path. I climb over. A new path will quickly form from footsteps of those who find a way around. Mushrooms come and go. Wildflowers. Snakes. An infinite number of potential differences from one day to the next.

Only because I know it so well can I see and appreciate the changes. The newness every time.

Same places.....never the same,
SARAH

....newer isn't better

Yogis,
One of my favorite ways to prepare vegetables is to roast them. Many kinds. Peppers, onions, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, beets…… often with small potatoes. Spread on a cookie sheet, massaged with a little olive oil and sprinkled with salt and any herbs or flavorings that feel right. Perfect for this time of year. Easy and delicious.

I like to cook mine pretty well. To that point where their texture changes and they begin to crystallize a bit. Sweeten. Often seeming like a different vegetable from when I slid them in to cook.

Recently I opened up the pan drawer of my oven. In there lies a stack of baking sheets in a variety of sizes. And a variety of ages. The new ones sit shiny and clear of any stains. They look so pretty. Others are now dark and splotchy. At first glance you would think I hadn’t cleaned them, but I know I always do.

For a while I tended to grab the new ones. I prepared the veggies the same way and cooked at the same temperature but for some reason they weren’t quite as tasty. Hhmmm…… Then one time I grabbed one of the oldies but goodies. An aha moment ensued. They cooked better!

Of course. It makes sense. Like my cast iron pans the more they are used, seasoned and loved, the better meals they produce. New isn’t necessarily better.

I was given some wooden salad tossers a couple years ago. I love their look and as an avid salad maker, I use them many times a week. During clean up I would give them a good scrub with soap. I started noticing though they felt a little dried out when I held them. I began lightly rinsing them off with warm water, allowing some of the oils to stay intact.  They too now feel more alive and loved. Cleaner isn’t always better.

Applying the same principles now to my wooden salad bowl, I can see the colors deepening. Aging to perfection.

Our grandmothers knew this.

The earth could benefit from us all falling back in love with what we already have,
SARAH

.....harvest

Yogis,
Each morning I walk out the front door, and each morning there is a little pile of dirt next to the potted plant on the steps. I sweep it up and scoop it back into the planter. I can barely see the walnut that has been buried there.

The flagstone path leading to the driveway is littered with acorns from the old oak above. They crunch as I walk. I startle the mother deer and her two little ones resting in the front grass. I imagine they ate so many nuts overnight that they have an acorn hangover and had decided it was easier to sleep where they were then to stagger home.

Chipmunks scurry across the yard with cheeks filled. Oblivious to my footsteps as their focus has shifted to food storage. Collect and unload. Collect and unload. Newly flocking birds land in the trees creating a raucous as they feast. They all know.

It is harvest season. Seeds, fruits, nuts.  A bounty literally falling on us from above.

My garden knows it too. The herbs are experiencing their last blast of growth and asking to be used. This week I will make my herbed salts with the now dense sage and aromatic rosemary. It’s time to dry some oregano and put thyme in vinegar. I take seeds from the drying flowers and scatter them in other parts of the yard.

Using this time of harvest to prepare for winter.

My CSA veggie share is moving back into dark greens, eggplant, squash, garlic and potatoes. Foods that nourish. I had my first acorn squash of the season for dinner the other night. Amazing. No additions needed.

This harvest season reminds me each year of the magnificent abundance of our world. That we are all already rich.

I wrote this while sitting on the front porch. The entire time I was surrounded by the sounds of various critters scampering through dried leaves…..which will later be used to reinforce their nests. All reveling in the gifts that have been bestowed.

Grateful for the bounty,
SARAH

....catchy

Yogis,
Friday was dreary as we drove to the Chesapeake Bay. Humid, soggy and drizzling. Saturday morning was more of the same. In fact, the whole week had followed this exact same pattern. Frizzy hair and damp shoes the look of the day.

Yet the Universe delivered! A parting of the clouds exposed brilliant blue skies and warm rays of sunshine just in time for the main event. An outdoor wedding I was officiating of a young woman I have known her whole life and her fiancé I’ve had the immense pleasure of connecting to. These two were so clearly in love and I was given the honor of joining their lives together.

With grass as our carpet and trees the décor we began the ceremony in a gazebo. By the end there were not many dry eyes in the crowd. We could all feel it. Love.

Love is the most universal, the most tremendous and the most mysterious of the cosmic forces.
~ Teilhard de Chardin

These two love each other profoundly. The heartfelt vows they wrote and read publicly were a gift to us all. They emanated love. And love is catchy.

Cocktails in a boat shed let us all begin to know each other better which then drifted to a tent on the bay. The setting ……stunning. By now we were giddy. Couples holding hands. Hugs and toasts abounding.

Then the band started….. Now we are dancing together, caring not if we knew the person in front of us, forming circles, letting go into the joy permeating the night air. But it didn’t stop there.

The newlyweds have their own band and took to the stage. Looking around, the crowd was standing shoulder to shoulder singing and cheering as the bride and groom glowed. Everyone’s heart a size larger than when the afternoon had begun.

Weddings are special. A day to step out of the world and soak in a deep pool of love. And boy does it feel good!

They love each other. We love them. Through this we are all now joined.

Sunday morning as my eyes opened, the clouds had returned. Mist back in the air.

Love though, remained,
SARAH