.......peaks

Yogis,
The anticipation begins for me in April. One day I open the door to leave the house for my morning run and there is the slightest hint of light in the air. Night has officially ended and I can feel morning right around the corner. Dawn has begun. After running in complete dark for more than six months, this is a thrill.

As the weeks go by I do the calculations in my head. I still have the rest of April, all of May and three weeks in June where each morning will be brighter. It seems like a long time, but before I know it the calendar says mid-May. I still have the rest of May and three weeks in June. Plenty of time to savor this light.

Then in a blink of an eye it arrives. The summer solstice. The longest day of the year. My favorite day of the year!

At this point when I leave the house it is only minutes before the sun lifts herself completely over the horizon. I can see everything! At the bottom of the street my eye is drawn to the owl sitting on the lowest telephone wire overhead. Good morning owl!  The next street finds me in a stare down with a doe. The birds are singing and joy is in the air. Every year the solstice never disappoints. She always delivers the magic. I am in heaven.

The summer solstice is my favorite day. But while it is my happy day……it is also one of my saddest. By even the next morning I could swear it seems a little darker. How can one day be both?

I have a similar relationship with the moon. I love the week leading up to the full moon. The anticipation of her in all her glory on the full moon night as I sleep under her beams. Yet on every full moon there is this inner voice that reminds me it will be a whole month before I experience this again. Joy and grief.

I hadn’t really noticed this about myself until a teacher pointed out to me one day that I am addicted to peaks.

Huh. Yes, now that I look deeper, I clearly am.

I do the same thing with Christmas. Vacations. My garden. Even on a rollercoaster I am the happiest as I crest the top of the first big hill. The whole world below. And isn’t life just one big rollercoaster?

There isn’t anything inherently wrong with being addicted to peaks. It does mean though that I am attaching my personal happiness to specific external occurrences that happen only occasionally. What about all of those days where it gets darker one minute earlier? Wouldn’t it be better if I loved each of them too?

It’s like when we grin and bear Monday through Friday in order to enjoy the weekend. Couldn’t we let Monday be Monday and see the unique gifts she offers?

I am a work in progress…..but I will admit that on the winter solstice I am down but also cracking a big smile inside for what is to come.

Peak lover,
SARAH

....a clear connection

Yogis,
I’ve been thinking about the bluebirds. They nested and raised a family here in May and I have not seen them once since the day the babies fledged. I read though that they typically have at least two broods a season and was wondering if maybe they return to the same house. I shared these thoughts over the course of a day with at least four people. That night as I’m on the deck looking into the woods, mother bluebird lands on the closest branch and looks me in the eye. ‘Hi!’ Just then dad soared in like a streak of blue light and he too landed and looked my way. ‘I was talking about you all day! Welcome back!’

At that moment my connection was strong.

I am not a fan of having my phone in the bedroom for a variety of reasons. It stays downstairs on the kitchen counter with the volume turned high. I’m confident that if someone needed to reach me, I would be woken if it kept ringing. But I do need a morning wakeup, so I have the old fashioned clock radio. I have it set to our local news station as I would rather be woken by a voice than an irritating buzz.

Each Thursday night as I set the alarm I also turn on the radio to make sure I still have a clear signal. Thursdays my cleaners are here and at times when they dust the bureau they accidently hit the dial which sits on the side of the radio. Those dials are very sensitive and the slightest movement to the left or right takes you from a clear connection into the land of static or silence.

On the older radios you had to have a light touch. Turning the knob ever so slowly back and forth until you hit just the right spot. If you were impatient you could jump from hard rock to Christian gospel with one flick of the wrist. If you want a particular channel and want it clear, you must be mindful.

The universe, like our local news, also has a channel. A frequency that when you tune in with focused precision, comes in loud and clear. I have been having a hard time locating that channel recently.

When our rhythm isn’t in sync with that of the universe It’s like when you are in the car with a friend looking forward to quiet conversation and they turn on their favorite pop station and crank it up. It doesn’t feel right. In these times life feels harder. Things break. Unexpected bills. Fears creep in and you aren’t clear which direction to take. A stuckness sets in.

On the other hand, when you are tuned in to the universe’s hum, life is a dance! This is what everyone refers to as being in the flow and you know it when you are in it. You know what to do and change feels effortless. The past is released and the future feels bright. Even obstacles swiftly float on by. Life guides you with a loving hand.

I’m never sure exactly how my dial gets bumped off the station but eventually I notice that what is playing isn’t want I want to hear.

It’s time to put my hand back on the knob and mindfully realign. This usually means go outside more. Put the phone down. Stop looking things up and checking social media. Allow more silence. Talk less. Listen more. Stop trying so hard. And ask to be reconnected.

The bluebird encounter means I hit the channel as I was moving the needle back and forth. I know I am close…….

Happy Father's Day everyone,
SARAH

....she loves me back

Yogis,
Many people give me plants as gifts. Often a new type of plant enters my garden as a seedling dug from a friend’s garden. Others give me house plants and quite a few orchids have passed through my door.

An orchid always arrives in robust health and covered with blooms. They are beautiful! There is something magical about an orchid flower. Dainty yet sensual and I swear I see a tiny angel when I look deep inside each bloom.  They are also finnicky. By the next year with no buds in sight they go into a slow decline. I have not been successful with orchids.

Until this one…….

A friend gave it to me two Christmas’s ago. I read up once again about the best way to water and waded through conflicting advice. I went with the three ice cubes once a week approach. I paid closer attention to which windows received the best sun throughout each of the seasons and moved her accordingly. The following Christmas I started watching. January passed. February. Until one day I saw the telltale stem beginning its ascent. She was magnificent! This year she once again shone. I feel like she winks at me from across the room each time I pass.

Was this a different type of orchid, or had I somehow done my part better?

I was given a snake plant many years ago. I had it in the window of a guest bedroom on the ground level. For years she did what I would call ‘ok’ but not a whole lot of change and her tall leaves were always flopping over. One day as I was in there changing the sheets I glanced over and I swear she asked why she was left alone in this bedroom. Oh, alright, as I carried her up to my reiki room where many of my plants live. This room has music, essential oils, reiki sessions and my breath. She is now absolutely enormous and even flowers! Who knew?

In the clearing of the strip of woods next to my house I uncovered a redbud tree that for fourteen years I never knew was there. I removed all the vines, gave her a trim, fluffed her up and made sure there is space around her. Every day I go by to check on her and touch her leaves. I tell her how happy I am to have found her. In return, when the sun points in her direction she beams at me. I can see her aura and it seems like she has already grown if that is possible.

We often talk about how we must love the earth to have any hope of healing her, but I recently read an essay which asked, ‘Does the earth love us back?’

What do you think? Can she love us? ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ I answer without hesitation. No matter how much I do to take care of my garden, the earth gives me it back tenfold. Like any loving relationship we both have a role.

Weeding…..giving them a drink……planting a seed……brushing against them…..my attention……trimming……leaning in to smell them……placing them in vases in my home……eating them in my salad.  All the ways I show my love. A flower……a cucumber…….butterflies……..the hummingbird……. shade on a hot day…….dragonflies…….the smell of mint…….the first firefly. Her return.

Earth is a being. I know she wants to be in relationship with us. The more attention we pay, the more we receive. Like a parent, she will love us even if we don’t fulfill our obligations, but its so much more fun to hold hands and skip together.

I hug trees,
SARAH

....I am excited

Yogis,
Friday was my planting cucumber seeds day. Back corner of my fenced in herb and veggie garden. I always put them in the same place because it seems to work. Enough sunlight but late afternoon shade so their roots stay moist.

The first step is clearing out the area. Lambs’ quarters, plantain and grasses which have all sprung up during spring have to go to create open space.  Dirt turned, compost mixed in, and a trellis set to give them something to climb. Cucumbers like to be planted in little mounds, so I dutifully mold the dirt and poke my finger in. And no matter how many years I do this I am for some reason amazed how the seeds inside the pack look exactly like the seeds in a cucumber. One by one I drop them in.

Seeds has been planted. Cucumbers will come.

While planting I reflected on the state of our world. It’s hard to absorb the news these days. The world heating, insects disappearing, and anger palpable. Freedoms and rights which felt guaranteed only months ago now threatened.  Economy teetering. Women’s faces once again covered in Afghanistan while Ukrainians fight for their existence. Then the unimaginable happens…… yet again. Nineteen innocent children. A parent’s worst nightmare. Is there no end…..

I find myself thinking words like ‘never’, ‘can’t’, ‘no solution’. Discussions with others end on a low note as we wonder how to turn this ship. What does the future hold?  Nothing will change. This is how things are. An aura of divisiveness and complacency.

Therefore, these are the seeds we are planting.

I listened to an interview last week with Elon Musk. I wanted to hear his views in his own words and not through those of the media. Right off the bat he was asked about his view of the future. His answer? ‘I am excited about our future!’ This hit a chord.

Now regardless of your thoughts on him, he sees the world from a different perspective. He visualizes what is possible and plants those seeds……and by the way has been pretty successful at it. He doesn’t let the confines of our limited systems stop him from creating.

I am excited!

What he uses is referred to as the ‘I am’ energy. Choosing what it is you want to be/feel/have/create by setting your vibration to that channel. Because after all, the external world is merely a mirror of our collective internal worlds. What is it that you want?

I am choosing to be excited about the future. Each morning as I sit quietly in meditation, preparing my inner garden by making open space, I consciously drop the seed of ‘I am excited’ into my fertile soil. I state it and consciously turn on the energy of feeling excited. Every day.

The ‘I am’ energy is the quickest way to manifest what it is that you want. If you want to be more confident…..say to yourself ‘I am confident’ and turn on the vibration of feeling more confident. Try it! Close your eyes now and say ‘I am heavy’ and turn heaviness on. It’s instant. You are now heavy. I am healthy. I am compassionate. I am joyful. I am patient. What do those feel like? Try them on. Don’t think about them…..be them!

What you want is only a seed away.

Notice what you are planting in your garden,
SARAH

.....paths

Yogis,
I have been spending considerable time trying to thin out the brush from a strip of land on the side of our property. The area is basically an extension of the woods behind us, but includes a steep drop off from the driveway, is lined with a half dozen fifty-year-old pine trees and is carpeted with several inches of pine needles, so it is no easy task.

Covered from head to toe to protect myself from poison ivy (which isn’t working very well) I am dragging out invasive vines with roots that travel several feet. Pulling ivy from small bushes and cutting back the honeysuckle. Dirty, sweaty work and at the end of the day it’s hard to tell I’ve even been in there.

On the other hand, I am uncovering hidden gifts. A small redbud tree. A couple hibiscus plants. And the remnants of a path.

When my neighbor Danny lived next door, I was over there often. I could have walked down the driveway, around the mailbox and down his driveway or cut straight through the brush. Being human, without thought, that was the choice. Over and over and over until a well-worn path was created. We both used this path as a form of connection. Over time we each put plants along it.

He has been gone for two years now so the path without the weight of our footsteps has been taken back by mother nature.

When I moved into this house, I created a path to go from my garden down the hill through the woods to the creek. For a few years I even laid mulch to tame the mud on rainy days. Because it is walked so often it now stays defined. Then I noticed the fox coming out of the woods from my path. Young deer would follow behind mom in a line walking up that slope. I started to wonder. Did I really create the path or had their years of travel led me to follow the same footsteps?

There is a large creek that runs through our town with a path that traces its edge. It has been hiked for decades. It offers bamboo forests, varying surfaces and steep ups and downs. It is one of my happy places. The county decided to put in a second path much higher up. A wider path with smoothed dirt and views of the creek. It’s lovely but they also decided to begin blocking the old path without talking to those who use and treasure it. Trees were cut and put across the path. Bamboo strewn over. New little trees planted right where everyone walks.

Those of us who walk and love the lower path were undeterred. We simply stepped over the fallen trees. Not an act of defiance but a following of the path. Some lifted and moved bamboo out of the way. The baby trees didn’t stand a chance. When I was there this week I noticed their empty cages lying in the brush. The path is once again defined. A path is chosen…..and can’t always be planned.

The worn down grass that circles my wheel garden shows me the path my life takes daily. My path at the river could be taken with eyes closed. The bluebell path heralds in spring. I travel them all.

Which path will I choose next?

So many paths with so little time,
SARAH

......home

Yogis,
Last Friday as I finished packing for my weekend at the beach, I stopped to look out the window one last time. Wanting to be sure I could see both mom and dad bluebird. It had become a daily ritual. Checking in on them. Making sure they were safe. There they were, worms in mouth, flying in and out of the house. Busy raising their young.  

Returning Monday afternoon, I immediately made a bee line to the backyard. Silence.

All day I kept checking. Cardinals, mourning doves, chickadees. No bluebirds. The babies had left. The parents were now empty nesters and saw no reason to hold onto real estate. They were once again free to be birds.

I let my friend know who had come over one afternoon to meet them. She said, “We are so tied to our homes. I’m always amazed how quickly young birds just leave. They have the right idea—'what’s out there to see?’ Their nests are only a convenience on the way to adventure, with a little mayhem thrown in.” I love that.

Lately I have been having thoughts…..well more like feelings…..about my house. We have been in this one for fourteen years now. I love it. I love everything about it. The layout, the energy, the colors, the yard, the woods, the neighborhood. It’s as if it and I are woven together. Yet last night as I sat outside beneath two of my towering beech trees, I realized that when it is time to go, I will simply walk out. That I am meant to be here now and then at some point I won’t.

We live next door to our old house. That house too had my heart. We raised our boys there. It taught me to get my hands in the dirt. We lived through three renovations to get it just how we wanted it. A reflection of who I am…..or was at that moment. I never imagined leaving, but when life threw some curve balls and we decided to move across the lawn, the threads that held us together were untied. I look over there at times and I see the ‘old me’ with fond memories, but I have never wished to go back.

I am wondering if this is because of my childhood. We moved every 2 to 3 years and our moves were almost always out of state. Each time my parents made it feel exciting. I could get a new bedspread, pick out carpet and decorate my room. I still remember the brown shag I chose in the seventies with the cactus bedspread. Once we even lived in a motel for a few months while a house was being built. I learned to settle into new homes quickly. I begin to feel like a hotel is home after only a couple nights. Even my tent under a star filled sky.

My parents instilled a sense in me that houses come and go. And while they are loved, they are not what make you feel at home. Home is found on the inside. The knowing that you are where you are supposed to be and that it is impermanent.

Humans began as nomads. Perhaps this newer concept of a permanent structure being home has the potential to hold us back if we hold on too tight. If we get too comfortable. Who knows ‘what’s out there to see!’  

Maybe the birds have it right.

Home is found in my soul,
SARAH

....mother's day repeat

Yogis,
I am the mother of three amazing men. One of those men, my oldest son, now has three children of his own. On a video chat this morning he pointed out that six humans are here on this earth because of me. It all starts with mom. How grateful I am.

Being a mom to boys is a blast. I grew up around girls so this boy stuff was all new to me. Lots of action, plenty of humor and great hugs. They got me out there playing sports and taught me to love movies I would never have considered watching (many of which we watched dozens of times). Male energy.

There is also a flip side to having all sons. Especially as they become adults.

They meet their soul partner and weddings happen. Daughter-in-laws become part of the family clan. They too may have a mother that lives close by. Soon they begin having families of their own. Once children arrive, mother’s day shifts to the new mom in the house. Young ones bringing them breakfast in bed and husbands planning a day to celebrate.

This all creates dilemmas. How do you celebrate the mom in the house, the mother of the wife and also the mom of the husband? Suddenly there are three women all deserving of a day of acknowledgement.

Some try to do it with a lot of running around. Mornings at home, lunch with one mom and rushing over to a barbecue for the other. Some families try to do it all together. One big event. Others may only be able to spend time with one. Opportunities for feelings to be hurt or someone to feel short changed.

This year I decided that I would go to the beach for Mother’s Day weekend and get together with the boys the following weekend.  This got me thinking. What if I let everyone know that from now on I would like to celebrate mother’s day a week later? Creating a new holiday. That way everyone could make their relaxed ‘woman’s side of the family’ mother’s day plans and know that they will see me the next Sunday.

Mother’s Day Repeat! A special day for moms of men.

What do you other mothers of sons think of this idea? I think it is brilliant! Maybe this should even become a new national day.

Happiest of Mother’s Days to everyone!

Mother of sons,
SARAH