....rhythm

Yogis,
I had the gift of time with my sister…..and much extended family in Cape May. Whenever she and I come together, as the time comes to part, neither of us is ready. Like two musical instruments, we find our rhythm.

Many of our conversations floated around and landed on the idea of rhythm in our lives.  When we are in it, life feels good. Easier. More fulfilling. When we aren’t, there is discord. To me, the human world seems out of tune now.

The natural world though has a rhythm. A hum. A symphony of everything working beautifully together. The animals, birds, plants, insects, moon, ocean….all with their own piece. The closer we lean in, the more our own note seamlessly blends in.

I read an article about waking with the sun. The importance of the earliest morning light touching your eyelids. Our own circadian rhythm is meant to synch with that of day and night. Morning should be light. Night should be dark.

We walked to the ocean together one evening. The sun had set and the beach was quiet. We looked up to soften our gaze and begin making out stars…the fraction that we are now able to see. We recounted dark places we have been where a night sky wraps you in its arms. The hotel behind us sat ablaze in bright lights.  

The tide rolls in. It rolls out. I breathe in. I breathe out. I open my window to hear the songs of frogs and nights bugs. My heartbeat keeps time.

I allow heat in while sweat trickles. A butterfly floats by as the hummingbird hovers. The music of summer with today’s songs lauding fuchsia zinnias and orange butterfly weed.

The vegetables join with zucchini and cucumbers holding the mike. Corn and tomatoes up next.

I taste the rhythm. I smell it in the air. I sway with the wind as thunder beats the drums.

I, like all, fall out of rhythm. Clumsy and disconnected. Anxious. The rhythm asks us to be quiet and to be out in her. Surrounded. My foot starts tapping the beat and soon I slide back in.

No separation,
SARAH

.....panther

Yogis,
Nana camp has kicked into gear again for the summer. Last week I had one granddaughter and grandson at the house. Now six and nine, they are in a different phase of childhood and it is fun to be included.

One thing my granddaughter and I like to do is pick oracle cards. Particularly from the animal spirit deck. Each has a striking picture of an animal and the message of their spirit written below. We take turns pulling from the deck and reading what it means when it comes into our life.

On her first turn she picked panther. The message of panther spirit is ‘Reclaim your power’. It goes on to say that it takes courage to face challenges and right now panther spirit is here to say you are braver than you think. Risks.

A perfect card for her!

In the last few months she has stepped into her girl power. She has let go of her floaties, swimming like a fish, jumps into the pool with glee, and learned to ride her bigger bike with gears. Big accomplishments that give the adrenaline rush mentioned in the panther card.

Later that day we went to the local pool. A water slide leads into one of the pools. Asking if she wanted to try it she shook her head no but then paused and said yes. Got right out of the pool, walked over and without hesitation slid down with a big splash. As she lifted her head from the water with a huge grin I exclaimed ‘Panther spirit was with you!’

It is as if it is in her aura at this time in her life. She also fearlessly jumped off the diving board which she has only done once in her life and climbed rocks. Where last summer ‘I’m scared’ was the typical answer to challenges presented, this year her answer is a resounding ‘Yes’.

Different energies pass through our lives. Right now I am surrounded by bluebird energy. With newly hatched babies I interact with mom and dad daily. Dad is particularly sweet and diligent in his fatherhood responsibilities. It calms me to be near.

I could use a little panther spirit,
SARAH

....remembrance

Yogis,
During morning runs on my Jersey shore family vacation I pass memorial benches lining dunes and parks. Etched with names of those who have died and accompanied by caring words, they are a form of remembrance. Honoring.

Certain words are used a lot. In loving memory…..Forever in our hearts…..Never forgotten. Lovely thoughts but if someone chooses to honor me with a bench once I no longer walk this earth, I am not sure those feel right. Then what would I want it to say? How do I want to be remembered?

I see one that says ‘She enjoyed life’s simple moments.’ Ok, that is getting closer.

I notice another that would perfectly suit my mother-in-law who passed away a couple years ago.  ‘Sea what you started. An ocean of memories.’ It was her own childhood love for Stone Harbor that drew the whole extended family to begin the annual tradition of meeting there for this week forty years ago. An ocean of memories indeed. Four generations under one roof in our house this year.

But what words suit me?

Thursday evening after taking a shower I lathered my body as I always do with olive oil and a drop of essential oil. I chose lavender. I consciously chose lavender each day last week since I was surrounded by my four grandchildren.

My granddaughter runs up for a hug. As she buries her head in my chest she asks “Nana, why do you always smell so good?”

I began choosing lavender when my first grandchild was born. A light lovely happy calming scent. Smell is our most primal sense. Bypassing the thinking mind it heads directly to our area where memories are formed. When we smell something from our childhood we are immediately back there. To all of them now, lavender brings memories of Nana, hugs and love.

Aha! My bench. How about this? Edits welcomed.

‘Feeling you and your hugs whenever I close my eyes and smell the lavender.’

What does your bench say?

Another option would have to include bare feet,
SARAH

....diary

Yogis,
My parents are in the process of emptying out their attic and basement. Items that have been sitting quietly in the dark for thirty, forty, even fifty years are being taken to the garage either to be claimed by family or friends or sold online. Any remaining will head to the dump. Something I should be doing in my own home.

One such item was my diary.

Did you ever have a diary? I remember starting, but never finishing several, yet the one my mom welcomed me with at the door this week was filled from Jan 1 through Dec 31. The year was 1974. I was 12 years old.

When my mom found it she read a few pages but decided she shouldn’t since there may be secrets. I assured her that although I didn’t know what it contained, I was confident there were no shocking revelations. I clearly remember being quite careful because the adorable little keys which were intended to be the security for my deepest dreams and desires did not seem very foolproof.

My hunch was right. More of a review of the daily life of a 12-year-old girl in 1974. Without social media and only a handful of tv channels, days were spent with friends, making up dance routines, playing with our hamsters and a lamb and wandering around the mall. Many sleep overs and experimenting with makeup. And frequent outdoor adventures.

On April 8^th I watched Hank Aaron hit his record breaking 415^th home run with over 53,000 other fans in the Atlanta stadium. Four months later we gathered to witness Nixon resign on the big wood console tv in my grandparents family room in New Jersey. In between the two we had moved states yet again.

I ended each day’s entry with ‘bye’.

Diaries stopped for many years to be replaced by journals as an adult. Journals then ceased and this blog began. That unchanging little girl in me is still careful but takes a bit more risk in sharing herself with others. And there is no key this time.

I wanted a boyfriend, my breasts to grow and more excitement in life,
SARAH

....arms in the air

Yogis,
As the weather warms and summer smells arrive, I am reminded of the feelings this season brought when I was young. With school winding down and the pool opening my jean shorts would reemerge. And my bike.

A banana seat bike with a sissy bar attached to the back so I could give friends a ride. Streamers hanging from the handlebars, a kickstand and of course a bell. I loved it.

Riding through the neighborhood, my long blond hair blowing in the wind as I headed down a hill. Then…..letting go. Arms out. Trusting that the bike would take me where I intended to go. Freedom.

As an adult it’s harder to let go.

Our body holds on to tension. The mind convinces us we have to hold tight to beliefs, opinions and worries. Emotions hold on to past hurts or angers. To let any of it go seems like we don’t care or we are giving in to someone. We have to control and drive this ship of life. Right?

Try this. Sit quietly and mentally repeat to yourself slowly ‘I let go’. Over and over. Pay attention to what happens in the body. Any changes or sensations. To increase the effect, state it on the exhales.

Words are powerful. They hold a vibration and when spoken mindfully they create a roadmap of where you want to go, and the body responds. An internal mantra.

Even more incredible is not only the internal world changes, but life responds too. When we let go of something that we have been resisting or clinging to, over time it too softens.

Use this for anything. Something you are worried about. A relationship. An argument. A judgment. A rigid belief. Anything causing you discomfort by holding on.

Bring it to mind, close your eyes, visualize breaking the connection to it and as it floats away state ‘I let go’. Over and over. Whenever it pops back up…..repeat! By changing your vibration the outer world wants to resonate with you. It will follow your map.

Choosing arms in the air with trust in life. Freeing!

Hair blowing in the wind,
SARAH

....familiar

Yogis,
I have several birdhouses scattered around the yard, but one location has always been the fan favorite. At first it was a simple yellow one built by my neighbor that was attached to one of the pillars that holds up the deck. A busy spot close to my garden and right above the hose spigot.

For years it was the wrens that set up house there. Waking me on spring mornings with full throated songs through my open window overlooking the deck. Then four years ago it was discovered by bluebirds. Home ownership changed.

Eventually the yellow house became rickety, so I replaced it with a natural wood one designed for bluebirds. Many families have called it home.

Fast forward to this spring…… I can tell there is activity but I never see the bird. I peek in and find a charming nest. Perfectly shaped and adorned with moss and feathers. A chickadee nest! A first for my yard.

Eggs and babies ensued, and the parents finally learned to trust me as I worked close by. A different look with different sounds and relationships. This week they fledged, leaving an empty house.

Well, the bluebirds didn’t waste any time! Within hours they were busy. Cleaning and sprucing and they moved in that night. I laughed. It seemed like they had missed their opportunity the first go round and were determined not to make that mistake again!

They are now settled back in and egg laying has begun. Dad being so vigilant as he stands guard at nearby spots and reminding me when the bird feeder is running low. Fluttering his wings when I talk to him and occasionally sticking his head in the house to check on the mom. The familiar has returned.

A flash of blue streaks past my window whenever I look out.

I loved experiencing the chickadees. Something new. I am grateful they chose our house. Yet there is something very comfortable in having familiar yearly experiences that sweep me into the rhythm of nature and show me my place within it all.

Welcome back,
SARAH 

....nuclear family

Yogis,
I am acutely aware of how lucky I am to have spent Mother’s Day with my mom. First, to be sixty-three and still have my mom. Then, to have it work out that my sister and I (with our respective husbands) could spend the whole weekend with our mom and dad at the beach. All of us in one house….alone. We can’t remember the last time that happened.

Our nuclear family, as my mom kept reminding us.

As one would expect, the weekend was filled with stories, memories and lots of laughter. Recounting different places we lived and trying to remember names of funny distant relatives with whom we have lost touch. Working on the NYT crossword puzzle, several great meals and enjoying great people watching from a bench on the boardwalk. A bucket of Thrasher’s fries in between us of course.

My mom mentioned a mug we got her about twenty years ago which has a picture of her sitting in my living room chair, my sister and I awkwardly on the floor in front of her. All of us looking just a bit ‘off’.

It was an annual tradition. A picture taken of the three of us right before we headed out to lunch the day after Christmas. Always an odd looking picture. We have had many laughs over them across the years, but somehow we fell out of the tradition. My mom asked that we recreate it for a new mug.

After breakfast we set it up. Picked the right chair, assumed our positions and asked the men to take pictures. Twenty pictures later we were finally forced to settle on one. My mom does not believe it is mug worthy. We all look a little ‘off’. So perhaps it is perfect.

Fifteen minutes later, my dad decided he needed one with his son-in-laws. So back to the chair we went. Lots of cracking joints while getting ready.  A new tradition?

Without a mother, none of us would be here.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone,
SARAH