Notes 🎼 from the afterlife

Dear benevolent soul of love Sara, My beloved fiancé John, who died in 2016, was also my first-ever co-author. Together, we published a book called Succulent Wild Love: Six Powerful Habits for Feeling More Love More Often. Now my husband and Angel of Love David and I are living the pages of that book — and beyond. One of John's particular sensitivities was that he really didn't like glitter. Which is especially funny when you consider that I'm an artist who loves bright colors and  lots of glitter. John was a very organized Virgo, born and educated in Germany, and he liked things to be just so. Right after we finished writing our book, the publishers sent us a copy tied up with a big glittery bow. Before I could caution him, John tugged hard on the bow, and glitter sprayed everywhere — especially all over his black sweater. I made it worse by laughing. Fast forward to his celebration of life in April of 2016: Someone I didn't know well came up to me and said, "Pardon my appearing here uninvited. This makes no logical sense, but John is very persistent. He came into my dream twice and told me to go to a certain store near where I live, and buy this necklace for you. He told me exactly where it would be, and even on which shelf. And there it was." Of course, I told her the story of the glittery bow and John's extreme reaction to it. We both marveled — at John, and at the great mysteries of the spirit world. I marveled even more that she had received that dream twice, bought the necklace, and driven many miles just to deliver it to me. The glitter necklace reads Fearless. And I've taken it to mean that John is no longer afraid of glitter- or anything else. I send you the mysteries of the afterlife, the (responsible) use of glitter, and miracles that appear in your life — and you noticing and naming them. Let me know if you have received afterlife messages, I'll love to hear. , If you wish to stop receiving our emails or change your subscription options, please manage your subscription. 1288 Columbus Ave, #151, City Of Love, SARK Francisco, CA 94133, US

The Big Romance is You

Dear loving soul of bright wonder Sara, Here I am the other night, after demonstrating the story for our dear friends about when I started writing on the window shade with a big fat Sharpie pen to remind myself that I was loved. I needed those kinds of reminders after my fiancé John died in 2016. That was also when I began slow dancing with myself in the living room after dinner. At first, it felt awkward and a little ridiculous—and then something shifted. It became a balm. It became a ritual. It became a relationship. I became an incredibly loving dance partner to myself. I realized I was romancing myself in my own life. So what is romancing yourself? I define it like this: Romancing yourself means lovingly tending to your own aliveness, beauty, and wonder—with gestures of devotion that come not from obligation, but from delight. It can be as simple as:     •    Speaking to yourself like someone you adore.     •    Tucking yourself into bed like you are your own beloved.     •    Writing yourself a love letter and hiding it in a book to find later.     •    Leaving a note for yourself on the bathroom mirror that says, "I see you." This kind of romancing is not about pretending life is always lovely. It's about finding the love in life—even when it's falling apart. Especially when it's falling apart. When John died, I thought the love had ended. But one of my mentors, Patricia, taught me: "Love doesn't come from a person. It comes through them." That changed everything. It meant love didn't end—it just changed forms. And the love of the world is reflected from them to me, and from me to myself. This knowing results in being able to experience SO MUCH more love. I've noticed how attached we can become to loving certain people and animals, which is wonderfull—of course. The challenge is that we begin to believe that the love itself comes from them. And when—and if—that source changes or goes away, it can be beyond devastating. This helped me so much in the two years I was so deeply grieving the physical loss of John and welcoming a new epic love- which came in the form of David. It showed me that love could change shape and form and come beautifully through other sources, and keep coming.  David and I have been loving the world together since May 21, 2018. Happy anniversary to my darling husband and Angel of Love, David!  And we've learned that the most lasting romance is the one we have with ourselves. Romancing yourself isn't idealistic—it's a daily form of spiritual resilience. It's a return to love, again and again, especially when everything else feels like too much. It's how we remember we are not lost. This is how we stay found. It's also one of the main vows in our marriage: Tend to your own alignment first. As much as possible, we come to each other filled—not empty, not waiting to be rescued, but already lit from within. This light is replenished by romancing ourselves in our daily lives. And we teach this too: That you are your own great love story. That you don't have to wait to be chosen. You're already chosen. By you. So, if you're grieving—romance yourself. If you're joyfull—romance yourself. If you're tired or stuck or unsure—romance yourself. It doesn't require extra time. It asks only for extra presence. Love is always waiting inside you, ready to be revealed in new and unexpected ways. And sometimes, it looks like a big fat Sharpie on a window shade. Let us know how you are romancing yourself in your own life—or how you'd like to. , Susan (aka SARK) + David (aka the Angel of Love) If you wish to stop receiving our emails or change your subscription options, please manage your subscription. 1288 Columbus Ave, #151, City Of Love, SARK Francisco, CA 94133, US

The MOMentum of Love

Dear Radiant Soul of Love Sara, Every year around Mother's Day, I feel the movie start to play again. It's a luminous, inner reel that began when my mom—Marvelous Marjorie—left her body in 2003. The film is filled with every sweater she brought "just in case," every sandwich cut on the diagonal, every tiny and enormous act of care. It plays in soft focus, with scenes that glimmer. There had also been other scenes, of course—some shadowed, some sharp. But I did the work (lots of therapy, lots of love), and now those scenes no longer dominate the screen. They taught me to love more too. This year, I'm most moved to reflect again on the MOMentum of love. Isn't it wonderfull that the word mom lives inside the word momentum? Momentum (noun)     1.    The quantity of motion of a moving body     2.    The impetus gained by a moving object Love is like that. It gathers speed and strength the more we give it away. My mom was a moving body of love—radiating it in sweaters, sandwiches, and a lifetime of Marvelous moments. The MOMentum of her love keeps rolling through me and everyone who knew her. But I also want to honor the other kind of momentum—the kind that can be passed down through hurt, absence, or neglect. I know that too. And I know how powerfull it is to stop that motion, to heal it, and to choose again. Some of us are mothered by neighbors, by chosen family, by trees, by books, by time. Some of us learn to mother ourselves tenderly, over and over. This Mother's Day, I honor all the forms that mothering takes:     •    Birth moms, adoptive moms, step-moms, bonus moms     •    Foster moms, trans moms, godmothers, aunties, grandmothers, great grandmothers      •    Chosen family and mothering mentors     •    Mothers in spirit form, who show up in surprising ways This year, I'm feeling especially gratefull for the MOMentum of love I get to share with David's two grown children. I experimented with what to call them. "Step" didn't feel quite right, and "bonus" didn't quite match either. I've now settled into this: Miracle Son. Miracle Daughter. Because that's how they arrived—in an unexpected swirl of love—and they've taught me so much about how love keeps moving and multiplying. And now I ask you: Who mothered you into being? Who do you mother, in your own ways? And how do you mother yourself, even now? With MOMentous love, , If you wish to stop receiving our emails or change your subscription options, please manage your subscription. 1288 Columbus Ave, #151, City Of Love, SARK Francisco, CA 94133, US

Everybody needs this

Dear dearest soul of wonder Sara, Dear endearing (I love that the word dear is inside endearing!) soul Here I am, resting on a redwood bench in San Francisco—one of my favorite places to write and talk to people. On this particular day, a man stopped and said, "You are a gorgeous sculpture! May I please take a photo of you?" He told me his name was Paul and announced that he was 92 years old that very day. We agreed that resting is good at any age. SARK stands for many things, and my current favorite is: Stop And Rest Kindly We all need more rest. We know this, and yet we resist it—or feel guilty, or like we should be doing something productive. But rest IS productive. Please implant this into your consciousness—preferably while lying down. Resting also often turns into what David and I call "accidental productivity." That's when you want to get something done, but you don't want to know that you're doing it… and suddenly, you are. And it's easy. With love and plenty of pillows, , Susan (aka SARK) + David the Angel of Love who is likely resting right now!  If you wish to stop receiving our emails or change your subscription options, please manage your subscription. 1288 Columbus Ave, #151, City Of Love, SARK Francisco, CA 94133, US