.....moments become memories

Yogis,
There is something about December that draws memories to the surface. The year winding down, holiday traditions lived once again and the winter quiet all cause me to remember……

This thread began with a gift my father received last year. An online package called Storyworth which emails him questions on a weekly basis, acting as thought starters to, in the purest sense, write his memoir. His answers were shared in real time with the family. We read about his childhood recollections of roaming the streets of Manhattan, his stint in the army where he was stationed with Elvis, meeting my mom in a bar and memories of his ancestors and how theirs paths eventually led to ours.

Memories…..

My dad was finishing his book as Thanksgiving neared and it all got me thinking about the stacks of VHS tapes stored in their couch ottomans, gathering dust. All of those years of him holding that cameraman sized VHS recorder on his shoulder to capture our trips, parties and holidays were at risk of slipping away. I offered to take them and figure out how to get them digitized.

There are new internet companies that sell you a box to ship your tapes in, but after reading the reviews I became nervous. Was I willing to send off all our family memories with the hope that I would A, eventually get a thumb drive back and B, receive it before next summer? Some local digging uncovered a guy in a building in Bethesda who would meet me out front for the hand off, keep me updated via email and have them ready in a week. I chose this. 

While waiting, recollections began rising and I spent the week telling stories of my dad in classes. The more I told, the more I remembered. Diving deeper into some memories which have lain dormant in my cells.

Soon after, two USB drives were in my hands, which I quickly boxed, wrapped and mailed to my parents and sister for Christmas….knowing they would have already forgotten that I had taken the tapes. Sending them memories that we all share.

I sat alone to watch some of them the days leading to Christmas. Tearing up as I watched my young father, sitting with a glass of red wine interviewing his father, making sure that the memories of that generation would be captured. The thread continuing to weave us closer.

On Christmas I ushered our boys into the family room to share scenes of us descending the staircase on early morning Christmas 1993. Watching myself as I carried my 6-month-old and helped the other two decipher who got what. A young mother. Barely room for all of us to gather around the tree in our old house. Remembering that moment, but at the time not realizing it would become a memory.

My grandparents wedding long before any of us were even a thought. Beach vacations which continue to this day. Watching family members laughing and dancing who no longer walk this earth, but in hearing them I remember what they felt like. Realizing how much I look and act like mom.

Watching these moments from afar I know that I was the creator of each of them. Watching how I spun my life.

My grandson watched with me, still a little young to understand how he was seeing his father’s mother’s father’s father, yet some day he will. And the thread will continue on……..

I remember,
SARAH

.....sky season

Yogis,
It’s officially sky season!

For three quarters of the year in my area I see very little sky. If I position myself in a clearing among the trees and bend my neck all the way back, I might be able to watch the clouds float by. The full moon may rise at 8:00 but I won’t spot it for at least an hour when she finally lifts herself above the heavy quilt of leaves covering my grandfather oak.

Spring and summer draw our eyes downward. From the first crocus pushing her head out of from beneath the ice packed ground, until the billowy plumes of the late summer goldenrod begin to fade, our gaze is to the earth and her seemingly endless bounty of gifts. Fall with its palette of reds, yellows and oranges invites us to lift our focus from the ground. The wind swaying the trees in their annual autumn dance.

It isn’t until the final leaves have fallen to our feet and the world quiets that the sky takes center stage. Winter is sky season......

My head still on the pillow, I open my eyes and am welcomed to this new day by the sky. Walking, I notice her. Driving, she catches my eye. When I turn my head to the right, I see sky. When I turn my head to the left, I see sky. Winter brings out the best in her.

Finishing my morning meditation I turn to my east facing window and am awed by the fire of the predawn sky. One evening at the beach I am drawn to pull over so I can sit quietly and take in the miracle of a winter sunset. How can anything be so beautiful. Her colors this time of year cannot be replicated as much as we try.

She also now creates the perfect canvas. Her clear open space allows us an unobstructed view of the heron taking flight. Trees, like sculptures, are on display. Smoke rises from our chimney. The stars twinkle a bit more brightly and gray skies create haunting landscapes, casting a green sheen on the river below. The geese float by beneath her.  

There is also no coincidence that when life appears to be trending in the right direction we claim ‘things are looking up’.  The mere act of looking to the sky gives us hope. Whispering to us that life is not as complicated as it might seem and that we are being watched over.

While earth reminds us that we are supported, held and safe, the sky shows us how infinite life can be. Dreams, wings, flight. Spacious…..boundless. Not tied down or attached. The sky symbolizes freedom and possibilities.

As you move into this new week, be sure to look up! You won’t be disappointed.  

Reaching for the stars,
SARAH

....holidays pandemic style

Yogis,
I love routine, ritual, and tradition. Once I find something that works well, I tend to stick with it for quite some time. May be the Capricorn in me.

Take vacations as an example. We begin the year with a trip to the islands, followed in summer by three weeks at different beaches. Fall is where we boldly go somewhere new. These traditions have each spanned anywhere from 20 to over 30 years. And somehow, we were able to make them all work even in this challenging year. I still love each one for different reasons.

Holidays are much the same, but this year we hit our first speed bump at Thanksgiving. Having 16 of us gather at our small beach house for football watching, turkey eating, game playing and outlet shopping, was not in the cards. Instead, we had a much quieter scaled down celebration at home with two of the boys. We had a wonderful time and kept reminding ourselves that next year we would be right back into the craziness that we have come to expect and love.

Now Christmas is staring me in the face, and I am finding it harder to be so stoic.

For 28 years now, my sons, parents, sister, and her family have all traveled down to our house for what is basically a gigantic three-day sleepover. We all know what to do. The same Christmas eve mass routine (which involves sitting on the balcony steps since we arrive too late), knowing whose presents go where under the tree, the men’s traditional cigar smoking around the grill (interesting hats required), champagne toasts and eggs benedict on Christmas morning.

Perhaps it is because this second speed bump is coming so close to the first. Or maybe it is because Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, but I am finding it challenging. When my sister and I finally had the conversation where it had to be said out loud that they all were not coming, it was emotional. I knew in my heart but didn’t want to hear it.

So here I sit, buying presents online. How to get them wrapped? Trying to figure out how to best get the food we will need without big trips to a store.  What time should I go to the post office to send that box to my family of those more personal items where I won’t be standing in an indoor line. Who has to get tested. It seems complicated and as if I am watching it all from afar.

I am having moments where I feel down.  Then I remind myself.

Our mind has expectations. When those expectations aren’t met we struggle. We immediately go to what isn’t happening, bypassing all that is still here. We compare what should be with what is and search out ‘lack’ and it causes us to suffer. This is what is making me low. If I visualize us all coming down the stairs on Christmas morning and determining who wins the bed head contest it makes me teary. And that is absolutely ok. There is a sorrow this year.

But I must also be sure to turn it around by visualizing what will be here.

Seeing us opening gifts with our sons whenever they are able to be there. Playing holiday music. Cuddling on my favorite couch under the new patio lights that are strung across the great room beams, which bring me much joy.  Smelling the Christmas tree, taking long walks….and still making eggs benedict on Christmas morning.

I have so many things to be grateful for, and Christmas, in whatever shape it is meant to have this year, is one of them.

I will miss the last minute errand running with my sister,
SARAH

....rooted in place

Yogis,
In the early days of Covid rearranging our lives, I shifted my running schedule. A few days a week I could now run in daylight, and without a rush hour I was able to run a river loop that requires me to cross the parkway at the edge of town without risking my life. It was then that I first noticed a particular tree.

I would run the roads down to the canal and river entrance, stand by the river for a quick hello, and then follow the hidden trails up to the next lock. There I only have to run along the heavily traveled canal towpath for a short time before heading across the parkway and back home…..a bonus considering Phoebe’s distaste for close encounters with other dogs on leashes.

It was on the lower river trail that I saw her.

She is not remarkable for her height or width. She is slightly crooked as she reaches for the light. A maple tree, she is surrounded by many like her. Most may not even notice her. But she has a gift, that in turning toward the sun as a youngster, she created the perfect seat for allowing tree huggers like me to lie our spines against her trunk.

I began to do just that last spring. A five-minute pause to sit, close my eyes and tune in to the morning, while Phoebe stands close by as my sentry. I continue to do it once or twice a week to this day.

Each time as I feel complete with my ‘sit’ I open my eyes and look around. After a few months of this routine I began to envision what the life of a tree might be like. How having your feet so deeply rooted that there is no movement forward or back forces life to happen to you.

As humans we are constantly going. No rest for the weary is our motto! Not wanting to become stuck or complacent we are on the move, seeking that which we believe will bring happiness. A tree, not so much. Life must come to them. They are the consummate observers of all that happens.

This particular tree has an amazing view. River to one side. Old growth trees, including one sycamore with the girth of a small bus, to the other. A path that travels along its side bringing occasional visitors such as me. I imagine how others over the years may have stopped to rest their weary legs. If nothing else, she hears them laugh and feels their breath as they pass.

The earliest morning rays of the sun shine on her…..every day of every year. The phases of the moon happen above her.  In spring I am sure squirrels travel up her trunk and wrens create nests in her branches. She can watch the geese and ducks with their newly formed families swim by her roots during summer. Fall surrounds her with an explosion of color and winter gifts her with unobstructed views of the river and canal. The deer and fox her companions.

The days go by….the months….the years. It rains on her in the dark of night. Snow swirls and settles on her seat. Occasionally the wind will snap off one of her branches. Planes fly overhead. The river overflows its banks and surrounds her. Rainbows come and go. She quietly observes. Her neighboring trees and she age together. No need to go anywhere. Life comes to her.

Poor tree, we say. She doesn’t get to travel the world and see all of the sites. She is missing out on life.

I will respectfully disagree. This morning I sat in her seat. My pulse harmonizing with hers. Together we watched the world go by.

My teacher,
SARAH

.....grateful for oranges

Yogis,
It’s always this time of year we are asked about gratitude. If we aren’t prepared, there is that moment of hesitation while we quickly try to think of what we are grateful for. Family….friends…..our health are the ones that typically roll off the tongue. Ok, what else? Uh. Hmm. Let me think about that while I stutter.

It reminds me of those big old cars on a cold winter morning. You would turn the key and the engine revs and then stops. Again with the key. This dance repeating for a few rounds until it turns over. Then like a deep cough it sputters as we ease our foot on the gas pedal, until finally it begins to hum.

For our gratitude engine to hum we need practice. The once a year dinner conversation just won’t cut it.

Indeed we are grateful for our friends, family and health, but if we didn’t have those would our gratitude engine stall? Without practice it may indeed. Gratitude is like a multi layered cake and those are the icing on top, but without digging down deeper we will miss all of the other pleasures waiting right on our plate.

Gratitude is not a thought. It cannot be practiced with the mind. Gratitude is an energy found in the area of the heart and when we feel it, we know it.  So how do we get it humming?

I look out the window. Letting my eyes relax I shift from looking to seeing. There is my garden as it prepares itself for winter. The garden brings me enormous joy and has been my profound teacher. I am so grateful for my garden. I see my firepit where we gather for drum circles, goddess events and full moon celebrations. It is beautiful. Grateful for my firepit. A fox. The blue sky. Oh, how grateful I am for the color blue! Bright red berries on the holly. Clouds. In order to awaken gratitude, I must ‘see’.

I stand sill and listen. The heat kicks on. Extremely grateful for heat. The sounds of sparrows in my front bushes as they chatter amongst themselves. What would the world be without birds! Owls, heron, the red cardinal against the snow, hawks soaring overhead.  The song of the wren. Deeply thankful for birds. The ticking of my favorite clock, the whistle of my tea kettle. Thunder. Music….how could I possibly forget music! In order to awaken gratitude, I must ‘hear’.

Last year I fell in love with mandarin oranges, eating two each day. Citrus is a winter fruit, so I have been holding off buying a bag this year until now. I peel one and place the first juicy slice on my tongue. Ahhhh….I am grateful for oranges. Each morning my mouth anticipates the warm water with fresh lemon and ginger slices. Dark chocolate. Thank you basil, sweet potatoes, avocados…..grateful, grateful, grateful. To awaken gratitude, I must ‘taste’.

I must ‘smell’. The calming comfort lavender oil has brought me over the years. Running my fingers through rosemary. Dinner cooking on the stove. A fire in the fireplace. A baby after a bath. The smell of rain and the ocean. Oh, and pine trees! And I must ‘feel’. Grass under my bare feet. Soaking in the tub with bath salts. Feeling sexy. Thank you crisp clean sheets and breeze through the open window!

Gratitude is found in being here. Awakening to this moment in this day. Over and over and over. This extraordinary world that we call home has infinite possibilities to keep our gratitude engine well oiled when we notice.

To me, the poet Mary Oliver sums it up perfectly. ‘Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.’

I am telling about it,
SARAH

....like a leaf

Yogis,
Autumn is the season which most clearly demonstrates impermanence.

For the last few weeks, the view from every window a portrait. Scarlet red, vibrant orange and bronzed leaves create a mosaic against the blue sky. The reflection of the sun as it touches each one. Look at me, they all say. We begin to get used to it. Then a day arrives with a blustery wind and the trees all look at each other and decide yes. It’s time. Without hesitation they let go.

That day was last week…….. 

I sit in front of my emptied dresser. Everything strewn across the floor. One by one I hold each piece of clothing in my hand. Keep it or let go? I move quickly to not allow sentiment to be one of the judges. Oh, I remember getting this shirt. Darn.  I find it hard to let things go…….

Trees are amazing teachers. They know when it is time. Even though those same leaves have spent months as the sole providers of life force and energy, in winter they would be a hindrance. Trees let them go. Every single one. No holding on to some just in case. Not worried that perhaps new ones will not grow back in spring or that it is too early or late. Trusting.

Shedding and allowing themselves to be naked and vulnerable. Baring their souls for the world to see. If only we humans were half as good at this act of faith. Impermanence.

We hold on to everything. Objects, property, titles, people……..as if they were ours. Yet nothing is ours. Everything only passing through. Some come to stay for a very long time, while others serve their intended purpose and should be freed. Yet we cling. Mine.

And the more we have the more bound we become. A hindrance. We must clean it all, care for it, pay for it and protect it in case someone else tries to take it. Weighted down. Afraid that in letting go we may become less. Become vulnerable.

A quote from Achaan Chah “If you let go a little, you will have a little happiness. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of happiness. And if you let go completely, you will be free.”

Fall is the season of air. The wind. Clearing the old to prepare for the invitation winter’s arrival offers to go inside. The energy of surrender. Of trusting that we are enough and are supported by a benevolent force who will pick up the reins if we are willing to loosen our hold even a bit.

Fall is the time to take a step back and look for clutter. Whether in a closet, on the counter, in relationships or in the mind and let things go. We often wait for spring cleaning, but spring is for bringing in new, which is hard to do when you are already out of room.

My stacks of books. The bridesmaid dress from my sister’s wedding. The grudge I still harbor from years ago. The artificial propping up of a friendship that has run its course. Worry. I visualize holding each one pinched between my fingers, like a leaf, until a breeze blows and I let them go one by one.

The act of letting go takes no effort. The effort is in holding on…..
SARAH

....four seasons of change

Yogis,
Humans are adaptable creatures. It may take us some time when a change is thrown our way, but soon enough we change along with it. Take this year……

Spring was on the horizon. Seedlings pushing their heads up beneath the wet matted leaves, and daylight about to catch up with night. The clocks had sprung ahead only the previous weekend when ‘Bam!’, an uninvited guest arrived. Her name was Covid.

Spring was the time of new. Stormy. We didn’t understand her so we huddled at home and poured through the news hoping for some certainty. How long was she staying? How do I stay healthy? Is my family safe? All while I wiped my delivered groceries with the one canister of anti-bacterial wipes that a friend graciously gifted me.

Store shelves empty, we learned to navigate alternative food sources. Service providers scrambling to grow new ways of operating to meet the changing customer needs. Many of us finally joined Venmo and I became a Zoom expert. I planted my garden knowing the earth had not changed.

Along comes summer, with its bright sun and call to be outdoors. By then I had learned to navigate. Always providing the required 6 feet to passers by as I hiked, visited the river, and sat by the creek. Comfortable now to have a few others over for dinners on the deck. Seeing my boys once again and with the now understood precautions, making all three beach vacations a reality. Summer, a time of warmth, relaxation and fun. A mask now always in my pocket. Another in the car.

Fall. As the leaves change color and rain down from the trees, the numbers of cases rise. Outdoor dining becomes a less reliable option but my cooking continues. Fresh fish, plenty of herbs and spices and testing out new techniques. Making vegetable stock in preparation for the soup season. The families who created a new habit of walking around our block daily still passing by. The kids all out on their bikes.

I register for an online pranayama course (breath practice) to continue learning while other activities are limited. Strengthening my immune system with foods, herbs, movement and breath. I join Marco Polo, an app where you post short videos to your group, with my sister and parents. Like texting but video. My dad posts his Winston Churchill sounding wisdoms of the day. Staying connected. A few new masks ordered. I am getting used to my true hair color.

And soon winter will be upon us. The one season we haven’t shared with our guest. It is easy to become fearful. Yet we can and will adapt yet again.

This week I set up the table for the 1000 piece puzzle I will soon begin. This year perhaps there will even be two. Recently a quiet inner voice has been nudging me to try painting, so I am planning to ask for an easel and paints for Christmas to give it a go.  I have always said I can’t draw, but not sure I have ever seriously put that to the test. Checking catalogs for the warmest long underwear.

Stacking wood next to the fireplace. Preparing. Keeping a running list of the movies I want to watch. I have ordered lights which I will string across the beams of the great room to bring joy to the season. Why not! In fact, with no one coming to your house you can do anything you ever considered! My easel may stand in the middle of a room.

Four seasons of change, but spring will reliably return again. I have learned many things. One is that…..I am spending less, I want less, I need less.

I’m ready for you winter,
SARAH

.....hope

Yogis,
Each time I run down from the beach house to see the sunrise, I am glad I did. Every single time……

I wish I could say I do it on all visits, but what sounds like a good idea early in the evening, often doesn’t when it’s time to set the alarm.  I instead begin picturing myself snuggling in bed until sunlight fills the room, causing me to squint. Yet there are those nights that I remind myself I should and when the alarm sings, I throw on my sneakers, grab the leash and off we go. Last night was one of those nights, and as we meandered back to the house this morning after welcoming in the new day, I was yet again filled with joy and the energy of hope.

The sunrise ushers in a new day in her own quiet way. The only sounds the stirring of the birds and the crashing of waves. A few other souls wandering the beach as we all individually, yet collectively, share this daily miracle. Phoebe meets a dog and they chase. The air is cool and moist. A ship, barely visible, passes through on its own journey.

The sunrise promises us new. It does not promise us certainty. Yesterday felt to me like a sunrise.

Soon after the election was called Phoebe and I took a long leisurely stroll through town, wanting to ‘feel’ what was happening. Rehoboth is a liberal town and one of the meanings of its name is ‘plenty of room’ and is why I love it so much.

Here, everyone is welcome. White, Black, Latino, Muslim, Asian, city folk, country folk, straight, gay, transgender, rich, poor, funny, grumpy……. We may not all agree and I might not want to have dinner with all of them, but we share the streets, beaches, stores and parks in harmony. It continues to be a sign for me of what is possible if we allow it. A sign of hope.

Regardless of your political or policy views, beneath all of that lies the human-ness we all share. I have watched how we have been treating each other and the direction we have been heading is dark. I know in my heart we can do better and yesterday felt like the possibility that a new day brings.

A sunrise does not bring certainty. No one person can flip a switch for us, as much as we might like that. The hard work is in our hands but the atmosphere in which we will put our heads down and continue forward now feels more spacious.

I watched the acceptance speeches last night. A woman accepting the position of vice president was monumental. Seeing a woman of color accept the position brought me to tears. As I write this my eyes are filling once again. Hope fills me and spills out through my eyes.

Rehoboth did not disappoint. The air was electric and as cars drove around the town’s circle with flags and honking horns, people of every nationality cheered. All of us individually, yet collectively, sharing in this time of possibility. I fell asleep last night to the sound of fireworks.

This morning I watched the sunrise.

The word of the day is Hope,
SARAH

....falling into now

Yogis,
Two threads have been weaving together for me this past week. Mindfulness and fall. First I had chosen to walk through my days consciously noticing the ways that I know it is fall. During this time, I was also asked for my definition of mindfulness. I realized the exercise I had undertaken was exactly that. Mindfulness.

It has become an overused word, but to me it has a simple definition. Being here in order to notice now. Keeping the senses and the mind attached to life as it is happening. Unfortunately, our minds are not usually on board with what sounds so simple. As our body is doing one thing, our mind is most often reliving what already happened, or grasping for what is to come, at the expense of living this precious moment that sits patiently waiting right under our feet.

What are the ways that I know it is fall without the aid of a calendar? I watched.

There are the obvious signs found in cooler days and changing colors. The fewer and fewer hours of sun as she lowers herself in the sky. But then there are others. Those that I could easily pass by while lost in thought.

Leaves suddenly let go of their homes above us to carpet the earth we walk on. Every step I take creates the crackle of dried leaves. I love that noise!  Memories flood in of raking leaf piles into which my boys would take a running leap. Back even further to burning leaves in the backyard as a child. The swish of the broom required to clear the front steps at least once a day. The crow caws. The fox screams. The buck snorts and stomps his hoof. I can hear fall.

I step out the door for my evening walk to the smell of smoke hanging in the air. Families now using their fireplaces and wood burning stoves. I love that smell! I begin using my firepit again and as the fire tender, by the end of the evening each time I run a hand through my hair, I can smell fall. I wait as long as possible to wash it out.

I know its fall when the I am greeted at the store by overflowing baskets of apples.  Carmel apples sit in a window display. The tastes of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg appealing once again. A craving for an afternoon cup of tea. I can taste fall.

The berries that appear on the tree between our house and the neighbors. Each year they and I would wait to see when the raucous flock of birds would appear to devour them. This year I will have to watch alone.  Squirrels in a frenzy (the exact opposite of mindful) as they bury and scamper. Keeping a wary eye on the walnut tree as I quickly pass beneath, hopeful I won’t be hit in the head or twist an ankle on the dropping tennis ball sized nuts. I can see fall.

Then on Wednesday I spent the afternoon with my five-year-old grandson. It was almost as if the Universe had set me up……

We decided to take a mindful walk where we found bugs, leaves and the now vivid green moss to zoom in on to see closer. And the very first thing he says to me as we start down the sidewalk is ‘Nana, I love the sound of the leaves as I walk on them!’.  Then when we get back and head to his backyard he asks ‘Nana, want to jump in the leaves with me?’ A hesitation…..and then of course I did.

My updated definition of mindfulness is to see the world as a five-year-old does.

A leaf fell out of my bra that night,
SARAH

....a birth and a death

Yogis,
On a rainy day in May two women showed me which of the community garden spaces that run along our town’s main road would fall under my purview. You may remember my post where I spoke of the insistence of two particular unwanted weeds. Or one where I shared my vision for transforming the area into both a feast for the eyes and a home to our neighborhood bees and butterflies.

A beginning. A birth…..

Since then I have planted, weeded, trimmed, sweated, and watered weekly. All while falling in love. On morning runs I stopped to visit. Pictures taken, friends visited and the oregano I grew there graced many of my salads.

This past Sunday I even went to the nursery and found another perennial to plant in preparation for winter with a vision toward spring. Tuesday morning at 6 am I ran by and waved. Four hours later it was all gone…….

A friend called me in a panic. A county truck was there and men in vests were cutting everything down to the dirt. They then packed up and left.  A miscommunication between a citizen and the county.

An ending. A death……

As I mourned, I thought back over the fleeting five months the garden and I shared and the many lessons it gifted me. Here are two.

Importance of words – I run by and zinnia faces smile at me, even in the dark. ‘You guys look beautiful!’ I shout. And then I catch myself. Guys???  Calling flowers, which are one of the most exquisite feminine aspects of nature, guys? 
I know better. I have been taught better. Guys has become a figure of speech to cover men and women, like man was chosen as the inclusive word for humans. I can assure you a man decided that.
Woman on the other hand includes both the womb and the man, which last time I checked were both required.
Words matter, a truth becoming clearer than ever this year. Because ‘we always said it’ does not count. ‘I don’t mean anything by it’ doesn’t excuse it. I am woman, goddess, feminine, shakti. I stand in that power and must mindfully use words that empower me and women of every color, size, nationality, and religion. And flowers, of course. Thank you, garden!

Kindness – The garden was always giving. Every visit provided a joy. The volunteer marigold that showed up, transforming into a stunning bush swathed with vivid red blooms. The zinnias in bud vases that I scattered throughout the house made me smile. 

The more I received the more I was spurred to give. Plastic cups filled with blooms which I occasionally set on the elderly women’s porch across the path. Asking children passing by if they would like a flower and watching their eyes widen as I got the scissors and asked what color they wanted. Sharing gardening tips with those who stopped to see what I was doing.
In return I was then given more. ‘Beautiful flowers!’ yells a biker. ‘Thank you for doing this’ I hear from a passing car. ‘My son always wants me to stop the stroller here so he can look at the flowers’, a young mom shares.
Gardens teach kindness.  Thank you, garden!

Everything has a birth and a death, but it isn’t always easy.

Thank you garden,
SARAH

.....a virtual Lobsterfest

Yogis,
Many years on this particular Sunday I have written about the annual event that happened the night before. The 3^rd Saturday in October. An evening where ten of us eat great food, have a few drinks (wink, wink), dance, laugh and generally lose ourselves in togetherness.

This week I had no inkling this would be my topic for today. In fact, I already had another note halfway finished. Photos and all. This year Lobsterfest would be on pause.

During 2020 we have come to realize, and in most cases accept, that many of our get togethers most likely won’t occur. In this instance, not one of us even asked the question. We all instinctively knew that this 32 year tradition was not on the calendar this October. An energetic nod that didn’t need our words.

Yet on Wednesday an email landed in our inboxes. A craving for lemon iced pound cake (or is it iced lemon pound cake?) was the title. An idea proposed. Since there could be no physical visit, especially with flights required for some, should we perhaps mark the evening with a Zoom call to say hi while enjoying our individual drinks and appetizers?

Lobster Goddesses 2007

With the weekend only a few days ahead and clear calendars all around (one of the benefits of the pandemic….easy to get on someone’s calendar) we heartily agreed to meet on Saturday at 6 pm. I, of course, would be the zoom leader (just like I was always the one in charge of dividing up the lunch tab and collecting the money, or organizing and buying the coworker gift, when we all worked together.)

For those of you who have been ‘zooming’ quite a bit, you know the challenges. Ten people on a call all using different technologies, different volumes and different personalities. It doesn’t always ‘work’ well and we were trying to create a substitute for an evening that is typically one of the highlights of our year. I was looking forward to it but not holding high expectations.

Well….I was proven wrong.

Late night dancing 2019

After the initial awkwardness and some fumbling with the mute button, we found our rhythm with each person doing exactly what we love them for, and I hope they each know what that is. Old stories repeated for the 32^nd time. Sharing the transitions we are now in the midst of…..new babies, weddings, the pure joy of grandchildren. And oh, how we laughed. For a moment I could feel everyone there in the room with me.

And somehow, by the end we had all raised our glasses to hitting the road next year for Lobsterfest, to the home of the Colorado couple. Three nights max we were sternly warned, which seemed fair. We all hope they remembered the invitation in the morning cause we are coming……..

Once again I was reminded that when you have a deep relationship with others, while physical presence and hugs are unmatchable,  you can connect in profoundly meaningful ways,  whether by phone, zoom or texts, or even by simply closing your eyes and visualizing them there. Especially poignant this year.

That was 2 hours of a whole lot of fun!

Visualizing us all dancing to Happy next year,
SARAH

....well worn habits

Yogis,
Fall is a season of transition. Tshirts one day and jeans with a sweater the next. The table at the farm stand filled with late summer corn only last week now converted to a festive pumpkin display. Do I turn the heat or the AC on? Is it time to pack away the sunscreen? Is it cold enough for a fire?

With outer transition comes the opportunity for inner transition. A change to the daily routine. A chance to change habits.

Habits are created over time and can be tough to shift. Like well worn paths they are comfortable and known with little chance for the unexpected. Yet sometimes our own habits are what cause us the greatest suffering. Several months ago, I began noticing my own eating habits.

Where ten years ago I had mindfully chosen a clean healthy diet, over this last year or two, like a pair of well-worn jeans, it was showing some wear. The small piece of dark chocolate I ate daily had morphed into a hardy sized chunk right after breakfast. Then the sweet taste in my mouth craved salt so I rounded out the meal with a few pretzels.

Desserts that I never even glanced at before, I suddenly find my hand raising when asked ‘who wants a piece?’  A little too much of this and more than usual of that….. None of it bad necessarily but throw all of it together and stir in menopause with a dash of pandemic, and gradually I was feeling it in my body. Pants a little tighter. Catching a glimpse of myself in a window and wondering where that new roll had come from. I kept noticing. I wished I was back to my previous way of eating and how I felt in this skin I’m in…..but habits are stubborn. I didn’t ‘want’ it enough.

Then a turning point arrived. Sitting over tea and catching up on life with two close friends, we found we had all slid back into a sugar habit. We discussed how the best way to shift it was cold turkey. A couple of weeks without sugar and the cravings retreat. Nice to know I thought.

Later that night one of them sent a text asking if we wanted to begin tomorrow. No sweets. Checking in on each other. Ugh…. Tomorrow? So soon? Shouldn’t I think about this longer? Ok, Sarah….do you WANT this or not?

Yes! I responded back. My wish finally took the critical step over the starting line to a want.

There are many things we wish were different. Unfortunately wishing holds little weight. Now a want on the other hand! When I want something from deep within, the mind can try to derail me at every turn, but I outsmart it with compassion, yet firmness.

As soon as I finish breakfast, I quickly clean up and leave the room. Moving onto another activity. A couple hours later when I begin to think I am hungry, I stop and breathe. Am I really hungry or am I bored.  Cabinets now stocked with satisfying healthy snacks. Effort required – yes. Hard – no. I visualize how I will feel in a month.

For me right now it is about food, but these rules of creating change apply to everything. Nail biting, overspending, negative thoughts. First you must notice what is happening and see it clearly with no drama or blame. Seeing what is. Then you must want to change it. In your bones. Once those two are done, the rest is one foot in front of the other.

Next on my habit changing agenda……stop checking the news so much. Ugh. Can I wait until after the election?

I am choosing change,
SARAH

.....grandma pose

Yogis,
Earlier this week I learned that my grandson would be coming for a sleepover on Saturday night. Over these last few months I have seen him, but this would be his first visit to my house and first sleepover since the start of Covid. Hurray!

I would once again get to use my grandma pose……

In one of my classes we have been spending a couple minutes in this posture every week.  Working to strengthen our feet, keep our knees flexible and gain better balance by taking the hands off the floor. This summer I decided it needed a name that I could use to direct us into it and then it came to me! This is the position that is required in the line of grandma duty. Thus, the grandma pose was born.  

I have been a grandmother for five years now and I go by the name ‘Nana’, following my family’s tradition. It’s a role that has no training or preparation. A unique relationship where you can be with someone you love so much that your heart feels like it is going to burst, yet unlike with your own children, you get to give them back at the end of the weekend. A role in which you can share your passions, teach based on what’s happening in the present moment and wiggle a bit outside the rules.

And I love to do all of this while down at eye level. Sitting on the floor or crouching into grandma pose to see the world from their eyes. Remembering how it feels to be so innocent and open. Every day a chance not only for something amazing, but for your whole world to be rocked. New tastes, smells and never before experienced ideas.  

Saturday night I showed him how to build a fire in the firepit and as we sat around it we discussed trees, birds, and how to roast a marshmallow…..a first for him. After demonstrating the various techniques of slow cook, evenly browned, engulfed in flames before blowing out, or flattened into a smore, he determined his favorite was marshmallows right out of the bag. He knows what he likes.

At the river we removed our shoes and rolled up our pants to wade across to a small island. A bold Nana suggestion. Carefully stepping through rocks and moss while mud squeezed between our toes we worked to stay upright. He was beaming as we reached land.

Whether crawling on hands and knees behind him with our Hess fire trucks as we headed to two alarm fires, sitting on the floor for I don’t know how many car races in the yoga room, or grabbing the big shovel to help him dig his hole, I was grateful for the time on my mat that allows me to dive in to my Nana time with both feet.  

Until you are knocked off balance……

Dropping him off on Sunday I squatted down into Grandma pose to give him a goodbye kiss. Grateful to be Nana…..

I will sleep well tonight,
SARAH

....cast of characters

Yogis,
The equinox we experienced on Tuesday is one of four transitions throughout our year. The December winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, is the beginning. One quarter of the way through we hit the balance of the spring equinox, as daylight then begins to outweigh night, followed three months later by the summer solstice. The longest daylight of the year. On then to the autumn equinox and finally back to the beginning. A complete cycle with each of the four heralding in a new season.

Everything in nature exists within a cycle. If we were to look to the moon, those corresponding four points in the same order would be the new moon, first quarter, full moon and last quarter. In our breath it would be the beginning of the inhale, halfway full and then the peak of the inbreath, followed by halfway empty and the end of the exhale. A birth, growth, decline and death.

Everything in nature exists within a cycle.

However, we are the only creatures that no longer live our lives in accordance with this natural rhythm. We are the only ones that require artificial constructs such as calendars and clocks to tell us what to do. Everything else, from the tiniest ant to the giant redwoods know no other way than being in sync with the beat of the Universe.

In the name of progress, the more inventive we become, the further we move away. Electricity took away the importance of light and dark, and hot or cold as we can control our environment with the flip of a switch. Unlike the deer, we no longer have to graze on local seasonal food, as transportation brings us anything we desire with a short trip to the store or a click of a mouse. We don’t need to know which way is south as GPS will take us there.

When I look at the state of things today, I can’t help but wonder if our detachment to the natural flow and our grasping onto the material world of thinking and acquiring plays a role. Have we lost our gift of intuition? Of knowing? Of trust? I look to my garden for guidance.

As the light shifts the bugs know. Its as if a whole new cast of characters arrived this week! Wasps with red rimmed yellow eyes jostle for space on the late blooming Goldenrod. A dapper long bodied orange beetle clambers up the stem.

A toad takes up lodging under the dense mat of my black eyed susans, making an appearance each time I sit nearby. One of those new insects must provide a tasty meal. And snails now adorn the leaves.  Where do they all come from and how do they know it is time?

I often feel a yearning to reconnect to the ways of the world. To let go of the material and lie back into the flow that sits right outside our door. Do you ever feel that?

There are many ways we can begin. Simple things. Like always knowing what stage the moon is in and where you will find her in the sky. Watching your yard, like a sundial, throughout the year to see the shifting movement of the sun across the sky. When close to water, knowing the high and low tides and feeling their distinct energies.

Being able to point to the four cardinal directions while standing on your front yard. Belonging to a CSA to reconnect with our food source. Or planting a garden…..even in pots….to re-learn the secrets of the earth.

I watch. I listen. I feel. The sun rises tomorrow at 6:54 am……..

I am not separate,
SARAH

....melancholy

Yogis,
On Tuesday we will experience the equinox. A day sliced in two by twelve hours of light and twelve of dark. A moment of balance……to be followed every day thereafter with increasing darkness and lessening light. Fall is beginning and this week my runs started in the dark and ended that way as well.

Like clockwork a rush of brisk autumn arrived as I searched my drawer for long running pants and a jacket for the first time. Socks rediscovered. Suddenly memories of pumpkins, fires and jigsaw puzzles flooded in along with the word ‘melancholy.’ A pensive sadness.

The cheerful lighthearted singing of the wrens has been replaced with the more somber call of the owl and the raucous gathering of flocks beginning to make their move. My favorite August insect symphony exiting stage left to allow the crickets their turn to shine. Squirrels prepare while the bees savor the final days of the sun hanging high in the sky.

The combination of menopause and a scorching summer have caused me to relish the cool down, yet the melancholy lies just below the surface. This year even more pronounced as the shift to inside will bring with it more restrictions, solitude and quiet. Throw in unrest and a divisive election and darkness holds new meaning.

My garden still abloom in yellows is overgrown and messy. Ducking and maneuvering to reach the center. Green tomatoes hanging on, soaking in the fewer and fewer moments of sun. A black snake silently slithers by while plants go to seed. I spend time with it all while I still have the chance. Melancholy.

I watch, remembering that melancholy is ok. A sensation that causes no harm as long as I don’t attach. Knowing it isn’t me. Visualizing this fall and winter as a time to read, learn and be. Finding joy and warmth within.

This year more than ever I will put to use all of the tools from my yoga toolbox. This is the reason we practice. Conscious deep breathing calms the nervous system. Spending time in silence quiets the mind. Movement brings flexibility to both the body and spirit. Practicing the art of being in the external world without being disturbed. Shining the inner light to keep the path bright regardless of where it leads.

The warmth will return soon as all transitions ebb and flow. Not yet putting away my shorts and sandals. Still clipping some herbs.

A breeze causes the dried leaves to rustle.

Looking inward,
SARAH

....a wedding wind

Yogis,
It’s hard to believe it was only four weeks ago that I got the call from a friend asking if I would officiate his niece’s wedding on the beach in Rehoboth. It was a story we are hearing much too often these days. A large wedding planned for quite some time that could no longer be. Flights, hotels and large gatherings not possible at this time.

Should they wait until next year? Have a smaller event in a church? Find clergy that will marry them in an outdoor space? Elope? All options that couples in 2020 are feeling their way through. Each offering unique obstacles. Family members who can’t travel. Local rules that seem to change daily. A few steps forward, several back and then side to side.

This couple has been together for 9 years already and it was time. Yes! I responded.

In Covid fashion we met weekly on Zoom to get to know each other and together plan a ceremony that was meaningful to them. The nuptials to be done on the beach with our toes in the sand, followed by a reception with eighteen humans and six dogs under a white tent on my friend’s driveway. It is amazing how a tent and white twinkly lights can transform a slab of concrete into an intimate fairyland. 

We had it all planned. The procession, the vows and the shell in which the rings would sit to be blessed. Or so we thought….. but the one thing you can’t plan is weather…..and the day before we watched with worry the call for 17 mph gusty winds directly from the east at wedding time. Yikes! What to do?

Yet again options considered, and alternate locations scoped out. It would be a game time decision. Two steps forward and one step back.

An hour before the ceremony, the couple headed to the beach and yes the wedding winds were blowing, but oh well! We were on. Hair up in a ponytail, papers placed in plastic sheets, and a heavy conch shell grabbed to use as a paper weight, while five of us literally wrestled with the white fabric to wind around the wedding arch. Tripod legs buried into the sand for stability for the zoom attendees.

We turn and here she comes. Lindsay looking stunning in the perfect dress while Kevin nervously smiles from ear to ear, his beam as bright as the sunflower on his lapel. We watched her approach under a magical blue sky. It was simple. It was perfect. It was what it was supposed to be.

Throughout all of the planning, hiccups and disappointments there  had always been one thread running through the center which was so strong that even a global pandemic could not stop its path…..their deep love for each other and the choice they had made to commit themselves in holy matrimony. And isn’t that what a wedding is all about? Everything else is extra.

As everyone formed a circle around them, we paused to notice where we were. The rhythmic pounding of the waves our music while the wind swept briskly through and around us. Wind is the element of air and is the symbol of our breath. I realized we were all being breathed on by the Universe and it felt awesome. A wild and wonderful wedding wind.

This was the third wedding I have officiated, and each one has been such an honor and a blessing. Being able to bear witness and provide the container in which love can do the work it does so well. 

I introduce to you Mr and Mrs Goff! 

With an ‘I Do’….they did,
SARAH