.....forts

Yogis,
This week we had what you would refer to as a real snowstorm. The kind where for days snow boots are the only shoe wear appropriate when leaving the house. Mindful planting of each foot on slippery sidewalks and keeping an eye overhead for dagger like icicles hanging precariously over doorways.

If you grew up in a cold climate, snowstorms bring back memories. Bundling up to the point where bending at the waist to pick something up is a feat. Ears so covered that the world sounds muffled. Scarves, mittens and wool socks. Red noses.

Yet another memory resurfaced this weekend while at my sister’s house in Rehoboth. Forts.

Her large backyard, dotted with magnificent oaks and pines, is a deer superhighway. Each dawn and dusk they follow their well-traveled diagonal path from the woods behind her, through the yard and out to the street. Hundreds of hoof prints dot the snowy landscape, at one point passing through an area where numerous bushes and evergreens converge.

Here is where you can tell they rest. Out of the wind and hidden beneath heavy branches. I decided to crawl in to get a better look. I found areas where the snow had been kicked aside exposing the warmer fallen leaves beneath. Oval nest like spaces created, perfect for sleep.  A fort.

My body remembers this. Finding those hidden nooks under the brush where I too could get out of the wind and sit hidden beneath heavy branches. The smell of pine and the hush. A secret world that I was drawn to, much like my soul friends, the deer. Feeling loved and safe. Held by nature.

I would declare it a fort and quickly decide which area was the bedroom and which was for hanging out. Tidying up to make it just so.

Like the deer……

Even in my home I find I have created a fort. A tucked away corner in the great room with a comfy couch, blankets and lots of books. Where my footsteps lead when I want to take a nap, don’t feel well, or simply need an escape from the noise of life.

Remembering,
SARAH

....another word

Yogis,
How could it be time again? Seems I wrote about selecting ‘simple’ as my word for 2024 only a few months ago. At this point in my life a year does not seem enough time to fully integrate all of the aspects one word can contain. There were shifts, but certainly ample opportunity remains.

Perhaps I need a word of the decade! How did you do with your word?

I will keep traveling the path of simple, but also want to add a word for 2025 to take along on the ride. This year it has been challenging. Words came to mind but didn’t feel right. Your word shouldn’t be something you think up or wish you could do. Not what others are doing, but one that stirs something inside.

I asked the Universe for a message on my drive back from the beach and after about an hour was irritated that I didn’t get a response.

Ok, I need to get quiet so I can hear the guidance. I turn off the radio. I drive in silence for the next two hours. Quiet. Maybe that’s my word? No way, that can’t be it. Not a lot of pizzazz to it. Is that really what I hope to create this year?

The Universe kept speaking though. People said quiet in our conversations. It was one of the words in a game I played this morning. I began to feel it and see it. It definitely is my word, and I am embracing it fully.

The world has become loud and that isn’t changing anytime soon. It is challenging to participate and be engaged without allowing the noise to seep in. I haven’t been doing that well recently.

So…… I poured 1000 puzzle pieces on a table which I will do in silence. I pulled out all of my colored pencils and paints and will get back to sitting on the floor in a quiet room to create.

Less noise. Leaving the radio off. Less social media. Less news. Not even turning on music while I move through my day.

Instead listening to birds and the wind. Walking and sitting quietly without a constant reach for distraction. Hearing the voice within.

Listen to silence. It has much to say.  ~Rumi

What is your word? Would love to hear.

Quietly,
SARAH

....the dark

Yogis,
The winter solstice arrived on Saturday with our half of the earth tilted to its furthest point from the sun. A day she shined on us for a mere nine hours, twenty-six minutes and eighteen seconds. Leaving us in more than 14 hours of dark. 

The darkest time of year.

Each day moving forward will offer us under a minute more of light but it will be quite some time before we notice. The dark is a guest who is here to stay awhile.

Dark is given a bad rap. Nightmares, ghosts, bats, evil, shadows and sadness. Horror films always take place in the dark and we fear looking under the bed. Yet dark is necessary.

The dark asks, or sometimes forces us to do less. To sleep more. To step back from the chaos. Whether we want to or not. We can deny it, ignore it or wish for it to go away, but a better approach may be to change the perspective. Perhaps embrace, or at least acknowledge darkness.

See it.

Without the dark there would be no need for candles……and how I love to light candles. No one would see the twinkle lights that sparkle each evening on my front porch as the sun sets. I couldn’t put pajamas on and sneak to bed at 8:00 to read.

I wouldn’t feel the beams of the moon shining on me while I sleep.

We wouldn’t know the awe of a star filled sky.  Or the coziness of a fire with its woodsy smell, radiant glow, crackles and pops. Without the dark we would never witness a sunrise.

During this dark season, when we do receive a welcome ray of sun from low in the sky, we are more appreciative of her beauty.

Dark is also considered spiritual soil. With fewer hours to see the world with physical eyes, we can use this time for inner reflection. Coming face to face with what lurks on the inside. Like our fear of outer dark, the inner can hold the same. Be sure to bring the soft light of compassion and gentleness with you on this journey. If you choose to go, growth happens.

What do you see in the dark?

Closing my eyes,
SARAH

.....added layer

Yogis,
I am now fully immersed in Christmas-ing. Every spare moment has me baking, cleaning, ordering and wrapping. So much to do!

I do love Christmas itself. Everyone comes and we huddle together in a three-day cocoon filled with love, champagne and gifts. The preparation though, is a lot. The level of intensity that sets in soon after Thanksgiving causes me angst each year. 

But this year is different…..

Maybe it’s because I have just come off of a three month project to completely move out of our beach house. I remember when the builder first mentioned this as a requirement and as my jaw dropped, that same sensation of angst set it. So much to do. How will I possibly? Yet I now sit on the other side and somehow it all got done.

It made me realize that it would have all gotten done regardless of the angst. That angst was a layer I put on the process that was not a requirement. Like a blanket. A layer I chose.  

Wait! you say. A big move does cause angst! Not really. A move is just a move. Yes, there is a tremendous amount to do, but how I step through it all is absolutely my choice and I had chosen angst and somehow finally recognized it as what I also do to Christmas.

Seeing myself.

Soooooo…..as I shifted from beach house to ho, ho, ho, I did it more mindfully this year. Choosing not to rush. To be baking while I am baking, wrapping when I am wrapping, and not thinking of everything left to do. Going to stores early in the day when they are quiet so I can wander slowly and pause. Trusting without doubt that it will all get done with or without that added layer.

I am sure you will not be surprised to hear that I am enjoying the whole season so much more!

It may not be Christmas that has you pulling up that heavy blanket. Could be another holiday, an event, a relationship, your job, a season, travel……..  They all are what they are and it is always your choice on how to move through.

I am kicking off the blanket!
SARAH

.....the hum

Yogis,
This week I am discussing gratitude. Wait! Wasn’t that last week?

I am amazed how quickly we transition from Thanksgiving to Christmas. One minute eating the last bite of pumpkin pie, discussing things to be thankful for and in a blink of an eye carols are playing and buying commences. From grateful, right back to consuming.

A neatly packaged gratitude week amidst a world of catalogs, commercials and ads reminding us what we don’t have. Gratitude is for what is already here.

Gratitude, like a muscle, can’t be worked infrequently and be expected to stay strong. Gratitude is a practice like yoga, piano, weightlifting or art. To become competent requires daily attention.

At Thanksgiving we share how grateful we are for our family and health. Our homes and the delicious meal. Yes! But only scratching the surface. What about the things you can see, touch, smell and taste every day?

I am grateful for the color yellow. What would the world be without yellow? And so grateful for the blue hue of a cold ocean. The green and red of holly trees this time of year in their Christmas outfits and the pinks of a predawn sky.

I am grateful for dark chocolate. Every day…… That first bite of a good piece of pizza. Avocados, summer tomatoes and hearty winter soup.

I am grateful for the wren who sings her song outside my window announcing the arrival of spring and the crackling of a fire on a winter night. Geese flying overhead, the whistle of wind and yes, Christmas carols. Thunder.

For a hot shower, air conditioning, my winter hat, down comforters. The feeling of the sun on my face and sand on my feet. The moon, stars, flowers, deer, rainbows, trees…….

The hum of gratitude. Why turn it on? Because once it is set in motion you feel great. The chest widens and heart blooms. You realize how rich you already are!

And as an added bonus, the more gratitude you shine out, the more things to be grateful for are drawn toward you.

Bringing gratitude along for the holidays,

SARAH

....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