this is me

this is me.

tired, hair needs washing, no make-up can't you tell because of those circles me.

the me who stumbles and thinks she knows and then has to just sit still to really trust me.

the me who seeks more sensuality, more space, more ease, less clutter, less spinning me.

quiet for the first time in days, calmed by her snoring dog, missing my mom so much my heart feels lost, me.

the me who keeps coming back to her own pace, to her own story, to her own way of being

me.

yes.

this is me. 

***

Over here, I'm sitting in the truth again of needing to go at my pace. Of needing to actually find that pace right now and wear it like a favorite decades-old t-shirt. This is nothing new really...this need to remember my pace is the only way. But when you are the CEO (plus every other possible position a business needs) of your own business that is run out of your home, it isn't easy. And no advice or words of wisdom that says differently is of interest to me.

And finding our way and stumbling and reaching out for a hand and hoping someone will be there and realizing that if no one is there we can actually still stand up on our own while we keep moving forward holding our flashlight. And then someone else will appear with a headlamp on and say, "Want to walk the next few steps together?"

And in that moment we find friendship and the reminder that we aren't alone.

Then we keep going and that person stops off to look at something shiny and we keep going and stumble and end up sitting right where we fall next to someone else who says, "I'm not sure what to do." And we give them the gift (but really give ourselves the gift) of saying, "This has worked for me. Want to try it?" And that person nods and we both get up and sit side by side on a bench for awhile and tell one another stories.

And it all repeats again and again in its twisty turny beautiful crazy way.

All of the truth nestled in these words is why I'm taking a few moments each day to stand in front of the mirror in my bathroom and check in. To choose love when I look at myself. To listen to the wisdom waiting in the quiet. This is why I'm taking more self-portraits of the quiet, tender-hearted, yes even super tired faced me.

I'm feeling a longing to be deeply seen for who I am and who I want to be, and I'm coming back to the truth that I'm the only one who can really give myself that gift in the deepest way that I need it.

I've hinted that I'd love for you to come along and join me in this adventure of looking in the mirror each day. Tomorrow, I hope to come back to this space and say, "Hey, this worked for me. Want to try it?" as I share more details about my next ecourse Water Your Soul :: Being Seen, which will be all about the mirror meditation and taking self-portraits in the quiet spaces. And then we can sit down and talk some more...

Today, I'm taking some time to sit in the stillness and go at my pace as I recalibrate after having house guests, an in-progress studio reorganization, a long to-do list, and the flu that has visited our little house. 

Sending light and love to you wherever you are on your path today,
Liz 

PS that necklace you seen in the photo is a little sterling silver sloth. yes, sloth. i found her last week on etsy (you might have spotted her on my adornments pinboard) and bought her as a talisman to remind me to keep going at my pace (even if that pace might seem slow to those looking in).

truth

Some days I can feel the mending with each breath.

Other days I just hold on to trust by my fingertips.

reframing rest

Today I'm guest posting over at Vivienne McMaster's for her incredible 14 Days of Self-Love Project. I'm sharing a post all about "rest as a form of self-love." Love this topic and the timeliness of it for me today as I really need to rest a bit over here.

The quote above is something I remind myself of often. In the post, I tell the story of a conversation with some friends about this very topic and how I continue to try to create space for and ask for the space to rest each day.

You can read the whole post over here.

 

Be sure to check out the other guest posts in this beautiful offering from Vivienne. What a gorgeous collective of women! You can find links to all 14 stories as they are posted here.

one joy.filled moment

The scene: She was tucked into bed for her nap. A story read. Stuffed animals and blankets gently placed around her. I walked down the hall to finish up Week 3 of Project Life, and inpired by Ali's post of photography tips, took my album outside to photograph Weeks 1-3 to share with you here (which will now happen tomorrow).

I moved the chair across the cement floor so I could stand on it, and after I snapped two photos, the blinds inside her bedroom window moved and a face suddenly appeared. She looked all around until suddenly finding me standing on the chair frozen as though not moving would cause her to decide to lay back down. 

After two seconds passed, we both started laughing.

I walked over to the window and snapped a few photos, capturing this one of her dimple and sheepish look of joy.

Ninety minutes later she is sleeping again (after one show please + one story + one more please + one or maybe three drinks of milk), and I've moved to taking photos of my album indoors and letting go of quite a few things on the to-do list.

Choosing to see the joy.

This is how I create space for more patience and love in the midst of toddlerland. This is how I fill the cracks in my heart. This is how open up just a bit more. This is how I find myself surrounded with so much beauty in the midst of the stuff that makes up this life. I do this again and again because at the end of the day, when I take a few moments to just notice, a version of these words so often comes to me:

 

*****

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seeking :: connection

(ornament by nina bagley)

This week has been one of those weeks where I've questioned a few things...how I move through the world online and off, why I'm invited to repeatedly sift through a lesson around feeling forgotten and left out, the contrast of that "left-out" feeling with the way I feel called to create safe spaces for women to show up as themselves, why I live in a corner of the world that I really love but I struggle to make deep connections with people in my own community.

Each day, as the morning fog gave way to grey sky, the winter blahs and the lonelies were clashing around and inside me.

Yesterday, after Ellie and Jon left for school, I was eating breakfast in my pajamas and trying to decide if I had time to take a shower and answer the stacking emails before diving into orders. And then all of a sudden, all I could think about was, "Get out of the house girl because you need connection. And PS you need a haircut." 

In that moment, I actually listened to myself instead of brushing off that wiser than me voice. And that action made something shift.

Maybe it was the self-care move of finally getting a haircut. Maybe it was getting out of the house. Maybe it was taking a break from work even though the to-do list is so long. Maybe it was knowing that a few loved ones who have health issues are doing okay right now. 

All I know is that when I opened my heart to connection, I suddenly found it everywhere:

• The delightful chat with my hair stylist and a conversation about cultivating trust so that I don't wait five months to come back and say "I didn't really like the last hair cut" but next time trust her to be able to fix it.
• Laughing with the receptionist at the salon about mama brain and being forgetful.
• An email from a friend telling me how much she has enjoyed our talks lately (and being so thankful since a huge part of our talks has been her holding space for me).
• The way the temperatures warmed and the blue sky peeked out against the tall tall evergreen trees in my front yard and I remembered why I feel so rooted in this part of the world.
• A package from a friend containing not only the bracelet I ordered but also thoughtful treats including the poetry ornament above that will hang in my studio.
• Your beautiful faces smiling back at me and peeks into your world on Instagram.
• The easy chatter with my studio assistant as we packaged orders reminding me why it is so important to not always work alone. Having a home studio is such a gift, but it can get lonely because you don't leave the house. Having someone there so you can say, "What do you think about?" or even just chat about what shows you're watching is such a gift. (And of course it is a plus that she's also Ellie's babysitter too!)
• A few new knitted pieces from my mom, including a cowl meets wrap meets poncho that is exactly like what I've been wanting forever. And hearing the joy in her voice when I called to tell her that.
• The conversation Ellie and I had in the car after I picked her up from school. She tells me stories now. Even though our evening was intense at times because she was really over tired, I continue to feel awe that she can share how she's feeling and what she needs. And she is so darn funny.

And the list just kept going probably because I was paying so close attention and literally making a list in my head. But the truth is that there was a lightness to the day that I simply needed.

Yet, the other feelings are still there at the edges. And I'm aware of them and listening and trying to understand and be open to all that is there. I still feel lonely sometimes. And that is okay. I still wish for a few things to shift. And that is okay. I still keep finding my way and sometimes it feels like I don't. And that is okay. 

But seeking what I feel like I'm missing is where the choice comes in. Seeking connection. Seeking a friendly voice. Seeking understanding. Being open to it can be scary because you might get hurt, it might not go as you hope...but I was reminded again and again yesterday that the being open part is the only way for me.

Thanks for listening...for sharing your light, your stories...for seeking connection so others can know they are not alone, so you can know...

Blessings,
Liz 

seeking truth one photo at a time

Oh truth...

You arrive and sometimes puddle at my feet. You push and pull at me. You sneak in like fog and wait for me to find you when the sun comes up. You confuse me and nudge me and invite me to stretch further than I think I want to.

And the truth is that you feel intangible and hard to find at times. You mingle with another's truth and mirror and hide and sometimes seem to laugh.

But I can't turn away.

I will keep sifting through your layered ways as I take photo after photo trying to find you on my own face.

***

About five years ago, I was talking with a friend and said that I don't tend to take photos of other people at gatherings, but I always take several photos of myself. "I guess I'm a self-portrait photographer" came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. This was before it was "in," before I wrote a book about it, before Instagram, before one easily admitted such things. My friend and I laughed at the time, but I couldn't stop thinking about the incredible, vulnerable truth I had just said aloud.

Taking self-portraits is one vital way I make sense of my everyday. It is how I look for the truth. It is how I check in with myself. It is how I seek confirmation that I am not alone. It is why so many of my Instagram photos are of me, my hands, my feet, my neck, my face, me.

Meeting my own eyes makes me feel deeply seen every time. And when I pair the photos with words pulled right from the guts and make the choice to push publish, I trust that maybe just maybe they will invite you to feel less alone too.

Try it. Take a photo of yourself. I dare you.

being a little afraid and doing it anyway

i am brave . a whispered soul mantra locket in the shop

Over here, Ellie and I have been having a few conversations about what it means to be brave. One way we've been talking about it is how being brave can mean being afraid, but doing something anyway.

A few items on her current brave list (in my words):

• Being a little scared to sleep in her new big girl bed but doing it anyway (going on nine days now).
• Walking into her room when the light is off and moving her stool so she can reach it to turn it on.
• Letting me wash her hair even though she is scared of water getting in her eyes.
• Saying she's sorry to her friends at school when she hurts their feelings.

A few things on my current brave list:

• Asking for help.
• Knowing I have too much "on my plate," and taking steps to put a few things on pause and let go of others.
• Sharing and writing even more of the true stories.
• Letting go of even more of the stuff (the physical and emotional) that rests inside our home so we can have even more space.

 (In some ways these lists seem pretty similar.)

And you, how are you being brave in your corner?

***

You might also want to read: courage = trust + fear and true essence

storytending

This is one of my favorite photos I took this year. I'm in my mother's home alone while Ellie was out playing with her grandparents.

At the time, being alone wasn't an experience I'd had very often since Ellie's birth. In this captured moment, I'm surrounded by books and words and poetry and idea journals. I was in the middle of teaching the first Poem It Out course, which was truly a highlight of 2012. Ideas were swirling, and I felt rested for the first time in months. And I was making lists of the stories I wanted to tell and brainstorming the right containers for those stories.

In the last two years, I've begun to really focus on sharing my work through stories. It literally feels like I think in stories these days. In some ways, that's been the case since I began blogging and perhaps from the time I was a little girl and headed out the backdoor into the small bit of woods we had with my favorite book and peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

At my retreats, I often think of myself as a storycatcher as I listen and share words back and forth with women. And when we circle in person or in my online courses, I do think of myself as a storyteller.

Lately though, when I'm sifting through the stuff that sometimes piles up in the corners inside me, I'm beginning to see myself as a storytender. I'm being gentle with myself and these stories in the same way I cared for the little tendril of green that grew in the milk carton in the windowsill of my first grade classroom when we grew zinnias for our mothers that year. I'm trying to really notice so I can add water and open the windows for some fresh air and create space for rest. 

As I look to 2013 and the ways I hope my business and family life will shine, I'm taking time to sift through a few stories. In little bits of time, literally five minutes here and ten there and two over there, I'm tending to the places I've been, the hurt that rests there, the joy that needs to be felt again, the beauty that insists on revealing itself.

Even though this can feel thick and even sticky, it creates space inside me so that I can live with my heart open to all of it: the joy, the hurt, the beauty, the shit, the silly, the love, the light.

And this life is what I want to choose again and again and again.

Join me in tending to your stories. Notice what needs to be watered...what needs to be free.

Let yourself rest in the truth you find. 

*****

For more notes from me about making the choice to tell the true stories and other adventures into creative self-care, sign up for my (almost) weekly newsletter that is really more like a love note from my heart to you.