Growing up, I would spend weeks of the summer visiting family nearby. I remember returning to Vermont after our visits, my family & I crammed in the car, and turning onto our dirt road. The light would change as we entered a green archway, the trees and brush so lush, bent over the road. I was reminded of that this past weekend as I drove back into Vermont after traveling for the past few weeks. I arrived back in Burlington and walked & walked, greeted by the last of the peonies, flowering trees, and late sun. Things are alive and full. The return of summer.
This past month, I returned to Australia to reconnect with dear friends and family. Aussie is full of this wild, tangible energy that I just love. There were many moments— up at Noosa Beach, only myself and two others in the water; when I reached a headland path that connects to the cliff edge; when Alice and I ran into the waves on a windy day at Newport Beach; when my sweet friends were tucked around the fire, the canyons & cliffs of the Blue Mountains behind us still holding light before the stars peeked out; taking my younger sister to all the special spots, reliving my first time in Aus through doing so— that I whispered, ‘Thank you, thank you.’
I picked up a really beautiful book one day in Sydney while I was waiting to meet a friend. The Salt Path by Raynor Winn tells such a tender & grounded story of shifting and letting go. Here is a bit I particularly liked:
“As a child I was sent to the field to collect a ewe and her newborn lamb, to carry the lamb for the ewe to follow, to bring them both safely to the shelter; I picked the lamb up but realized the ewe was about to give birth to a second. So I waited, lying on my back in the wet spring grass, clouds rushing overhead, the ewe only feet away, giving birth, as the first lamb found its feet. I knew then that I was one with everything, the worms in the soil, clouds in the sky; I was part of it all, within everything, and everything was within my child’s head. Our land gave that to our children. Growing like saplings in the storm, bent by it, but strengthened at the core, rooted but flexible and strong, running free in the wind, but guided by it.”
Talk soon & happy almost July.
With gratitude,
Carina Crane
Co-Creator & Writer for Sage
carinamarie11@gmail.comTake care, a common greeting and goodbye, is said casually and reflexively. When we truly mean it, it’s a reflection of the necessity of care in our world. Take care of yourself until the next time we meet. Take care of your community, your home, your neighbors, and friends. Take care of the stream near your house or the book you’re flipping through.
Want to work together, collaborate, make something happen in Burlington, or talk about community care? Send us a note at hello@sagezine.com.