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Filtering by Category: real

compassion and love (a self-portrait)

liz lamoreux

 

as the light faded wednesday evening, i took a few self-portraits...playing with different angles and looks into the camera. i was having a lot of fun. but then, when i looked through them on the camera, i was so distracted by my arms and my tired eyes and...how the list goes on. so finally, i put my camera straight in front of me, closed my eyes, and focused on filling my whole body with love and compassion. i took several breaths just imagining this compassion and love moving throughout my body. then, while the timer beeped, i looked into the camera imagining i was looking at someone with only love (imagining the look my heart needed in that moment). 

later, looking through the photos, my thoughts were softer. i saw beauty and a woman taking the time to just be in her life. i saw truth and realness and some wild, maybe even gorgeous, hair. and then i came to this photo and saw a woman choosing to love herself.

interesting how all the other stuff melts away when you let love fill the cracks.

(whispering now): i dare you to try it. 

sending blessings across the miles,

liz

PS would love to see the photo you take.

the practice

liz lamoreux

seeking the beauty in the quiet moments

 

we continue to really be in summer over here; there is a permission given to relax and laugh and get outside and watch movies and rest and just be a little family together. i recently wrote this in an email, "time is flying by as i am finally sinking into living after so many months of survival mode. i didn't even realize i was still in it until i was out of it." it does feel like we are coming out of hiberation after months of worry and so so many doctor's appointments and how the list goes on. ellie continues to be doing great overall...growing...hopefully growing out of her other two heart issues. time will tell as always.

i have been thinking about this idea of how sometimes we don't even realize we are in survival mode until we are out of it. how the body and mind adjust to what must be done. how we protect ourselves in order to focus on what seems to be or is important. how my mind can distract me with its swirling, twirling ways. how this little grey with an apple on top box of wonder that holds worlds can distract me too. but then something will shift to quiet my mind. there will be a slowing down...a noticing...an invitation to be right here.

as i work on some current projects (including the i-am-so-excited-about-this content for emerge), i am observing how my practice of trying to be right here through photography and writing and creating in my studio and reading poetry and taking a breath or two or three has given me a map of sorts to get through the times of survival mode.

this idea of having a practice that you work with (as much as possible) daily means you practice on the good days where you have so much energy and your outlook is "hello world. bring it." it means you practice on the days when you stay in your pajamas and eat ice cream for breakfast. and again on the days when it rains and hails and when the sun shines so bright you have to leave the grumps behind. you practice on those usual sort of days so that when you suddenly encounter a day that finds you in a hospital or standing next to the phone after hearing something that has changed life forever or walking the path of grief and loss and sadness or even when you have just had a simple shift that confuses you or when something beautiful is going to take you on an adventure and you fear you will not find your way...

you practice so that when you encounter those "i have no idea where i am" sort of days, you will find a bit of light because you will see that hand in the darkness in the form of your practice. you will find light as you take a photo that captures the realness of a moment. you will find light as your write down every word that lives inside your fear. you will find light inside a poem written by someone else from another time who pushes you to know you are not alone. you will find light inside sitting in the quiet and letting the space around your heart grow with each breath.

you practice to begin to notice the beauty, the joy, the truth that is (always) there.

you practice to find the light. 

you practice.

you practice.

glimpses

liz lamoreux

inspired by the delightful darrah parker and her class at wishBIG ecamp, i have taken my camera on a couple of excursions around our little home, searching for clues.

so often i apologize for the messiness of our house, and if you have visited us in the last four years, you have heard me say things like, "the next time you come it will be cleaner. just wait. really. next time." 

but these last few days, as i looked around, i found warmth and gratitude and places to tuck in for conversation and tea. i found colors that make me happy and my own reflected smile.

(artwork in this photo by jen lemen, madelyn mulvaney, and brian andreas)

i found evidence of a family with a little girl, and a mama who is working so hard each day. i found a wish in the form of a photograph that made me say, "i hope she will always know love like this." 

and today, as the sun peeked in on us through the windows, i began to notice that it is pretty beautiful around here even if it is a bit cluttered and dusty. beautiful and real and full of love. perhaps it is time to admit that it really is becoming the home i always wanted.

hello seventh-grade self

liz lamoreux

Over here in my corner this week, I am becoming friends with my seventh-grade self.

As I sit here in my little house as Ellie Jane naps, I am thinking about how the Internet is such a distraction and such a gift. But when it distracts, it can really knock me into a dark part of my corner where I am no longer thinking about the light.ness or how my corner sings, but am instead sitting inside fear and envy and deep hurt. It is funny how I can let this little box that sits in front of me have so much power…it is funny how I can feel like I am right back in middle school as I click from link to link. Because of the Internet, there are so many things we can experience that are not so helpful or healthy, such as:

Experiencing an unfriending
Feeling like a fly on a wall when reading unkind things about ourselves
Wishing our life looked like someone else’s
Thinking that a blog post represents who someone really is
Gossiping about someone’s new creative adventure/endeavor
Comparing ourselves to people we have never even met
Comparing ourselves to our friends
Becoming a bit of a stalker as we notice someone who we thought was a friend comment on everyone else’s walls/blog posts/Flickr photos while we experience radio silence

I write these things knowing there is so much more to add to the list and knowing that even though I feel some shame at experiencing all these things myself, I am not alone in any of this.

Hello seventh-grade self.

One truth though is that I can control a lot of this. I can choose how I respond or how I spend my limited free time or where I go when I click from site to site. (There is so much we can control if we choose.)

And then there are the things I can’t control. I can’t control what others will say. There are the things I know about that become like a broken record in my head. (She is an amateur. Just look at her blog. Who does she think she is?) Then the things I don’t know about become empty balloons above people’s heads that I fill in with assumptions and fears.

Hello seventh-grade self.

And I appreciate the idea of “you just have to let it go,” because you can’t control it. You cannot know why people do what they do or say what they say. You are only in charge of you. (I am only in charge of me.) But that letting go thing is not always easy, and to be honest, when someone tells me to do just that, I often feel like they are dismissing the very real feelings I am having. And those feelings, although perhaps a waste of time, are real and swirling around inside me.

Recently though a friend challenged me in a different way. Instead of telling me to let it go or focus on how there is so much more good than not so good, she said something like this, “When you feel like you should go back and read those words, do something else.” She pushed me to see that my free time could be filled with “eating peaches” (oh how I love peaches) or resting or working on something good instead of trying to find out if people like me. (Okay, I added that last part, but I know that was what she was gently suggesting.)

I slept on it.

And the next morning I had this thought: Instead of wasting time on that “stuff” (the collective “stuff” that distracts me from making my corner beautiful), I am going to dance. Whenever the thought comes that I should to "click" to see if I am measuring up, I am going to stand up and dance, even if just for a second or two.

But before I could put this into practice, as Ellie took her morning nap, I found myself right back inside seventh grade.

(Sigh.)

At least I saw it happening this time.

And I decided to go into my folder of photos from my childhood to see if I could find my seventh-grade self. I wanted to have a picture in my mind to think about whenever this happened. As you probably guessed, there she is…right there at the top of this post. Doing the “Glee” thing (before Glee was cool) at a theatre summer camp in Wisconsin.

As I looked at this photo, I started thinking about my braces and the boy that I “liked” then (and wanted to “go with” not that we were going anywhere) and the pimples and the bad "oh my goodness why did she let me do it" perm. I started thinking about the not fitting in and the wanting to be someone else and the wishing my friends actually liked the real me who I was afraid to be a lot of the time.

And then all this collided with thinking about my decision to dance when I started to feel like I am not “measuring up.” And I looked at the next photo…

 

Oh. Hello seventh-grade self.

Hello girl who is so happy to be dancing and singing her heart out on a stage. Hello seventh-grade self (who lives inside me even now) who didn’t care what one person in that audience thought about her because there was no place she would rather be than living in that moment, singing, and smiling so big inside she thought she could change the very world with that song.

Hello seventh-grade self.

 

It is good to be spending time with you again.