123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789

email@address.com

 

You can set your address, phone number, email and site description in the settings tab.
Link to read me page with more information.

Blog

Filtering by Category: here

this is me

liz lamoreux

 

this is me sitting in the goodness of a conversation with friends and kindred spirits. this is me remembering what it is like to show up to this space that’s all my own and tell a few stories and share some musings and let the words show up through the hands typing on this keyboard. this is me longing for the curiosity and delight that showed up so often during my early days of blogging. this is me moving from the role of mother to teacher to business owner to exhausted human and on and on. this is me revisiting some of the old stories and reminding myself that we get to keep unpacking the lessons. this is me going back to the basics of how a routine alongside listening to my needs alongside knowing i can give so much of myself alongside a desire to be in the world might be a recipe i can work with. this is me wondering how you’re doing over there in your corner.

where i stand (june 2019)

liz lamoreux

june peony
 

All day, I kept hearing Lionel sing about how he’s “easy like Sunday morning.” And I guess I want to feel like that more. You know?

More ease.

More cuddled up while the summer sun shines in.

More mugs of coffee on the back porch while the neighborhood wakes up.

More bare toes.

More writing letters to remind you of how beautiful you are to me.

More records playing while we dance in pajamas.

More living in the easy spaces so we can feel the possibility of softness, of freedom, even when (especially when) the tough stuff comes up.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

(Amen.)

there are things I want to tell you

liz lamoreux

I want to tell you about the sound of my daughter's laughter when it overflows out of her body and onto the memories of all who surround her.

I want to tell you about the way one deep breath, and then another, brings me closer to love when I make the choice to pause and breathe and listen.

I want to tell you about the birds, oh those birds, who sing every morning with no concern for who is running for president or who has a cleaner kitchen or what words make the perfect sales page.

I want to tell you about the light in our new home and how it heals me every single morning.

I want to tell you about the fire in me that simmered for so long and is now licking at my insides.

I want to tell you about that morning on vacation when I slipped out of bed and went down the hall to find Ellie, and we both wore long dresses and walked out onto the beach while most people were sleeping and took photos of one another twirling in the water and the magic was shimmering in the air and I knew we would never forget.

 
photo by eleanor jane

photo by eleanor jane

What stories are waiting inside you, dear heart? What stories are you wanting to tell? 

here

liz lamoreux

 

Over here there's been peonies (all the time) and a last day of school and turning 5 and turning 39 and turning 47 and to-do list organizing and lots of flag making and jewelry making and retreat prepping and cake eating and lip sync practicing and really good book reading and mama daughter dates. 

Over here there's been popsicles and laughter and wishing for do-overs and a little voice saying, "Mama, can you chant to me again while I go to sleep?"

Over here there's been deep breaths and late nights and one perfect moment resting in bed with the windows open to the birds singing and my family laughing down the hall.

And there's been unicorns. Always, always unicorns.

building a bridge in the space between

liz lamoreux

 

This morning, I'm in that quiet space of holding the stories from the past few months that I haven't shared here and the desire to let them all tumble out. It's this space of being "almost there" and feeling like I'm on the cusp of bursting with all that I want make happen. So I'm starting this post with that peony above because 1) I can't stop with all the peonies all the time right now and 2) It is like a visual of how I feel inside.

As I shared with my newsletter subscribers earlier this week, last weekend I visited my mom, and we did a pretty amazing deep dive into my business. I've been looking at where I've been, what I've created, and the ways I share it all with you. I've been having hard conversations and really exciting ones. And I can't wait to tell you more about it through some new blog posts and my newsletter.

One thread that runs through my business that has come forward through these conversations (and the work I've been doing during the last few months): I want to help you build a bridge between what daily life looks like and the life you most want to for yourself (and those around you...and the world). If you follow me over on Instagram, you're seeing some peeks at how I'm doing this over here.

And I'm doing it one move at a time.

Sometimes one move looks like sitting in the backyard with Ellie as we slide beads onto wire and eat strawberries and chat about how we can invite in more kindness. And for 10 gorgeous minutes, she just stays present and calm. During moments like this, I capture a photo and imagine that I'm sitting on the bridge between daily life and my own longings and I'm dangling my feet over the edge and choosing to see the beauty, knowing it might be fleeting because life is unpredictable with a four year old.

Sometimes this move looks like slogging through a metaphorical overgrown meadow with weeds as high as my waist as I somehow keep walking and cross items off the to-do list and try not to lose it or use that tone of voice that triggers everyone (including me) and I just keep taking one breath, one step, repeat. And then somehow there's a pause in it all and I'm able to remember I have go-to moves to reconnect me with joy. So I choose to turn up some music and twirl and find myself again. But even though twirling might be involved, it isn't always easy.

Sometimes this move looks like just standing right here. Hand to my heart. Taking five deep breaths.

And sometimes this move is a big one, like choosing to rebrand my website (coming soon!) and asking my husband on a date (for real).

My hope is to be a guide for you as you move closer to your own longings, closer to having more really good days in the midst of whatever life hands you, closer to seeing the beauty even when it storms.

And one way I want to do this is through my new Back to the Basics one-on-one offering. It's in the Beta Testing phase right now, but I'll be opening it to you next month. If you want a sneak peek and to sign up to get first dibs on the handful of spots I'll be opening, head over here.

As you walk through your day in your corner, I hope you'll spend some time thinking about the bridges you're building. What would it feel like to let go of "all or nothing" when it comes to making shifts in your life? What if the moments when we realize things aren't working are actually clues to how we can tweak the way we're building the bridge between our day-to-day lives and the dreams inside us? What if you could live your dreams into reality one move at a time?

These are the conversations I want to have with you.

Yes. Yes. Yes.


here

liz lamoreux

Here. A special package that kicks off a new project I'm starting over here inspired by Lori Portka's 100 Thank Yous Project. Getting out of the house using my Action Journals (and Staedtler pens) to kick the overwhelms to the curb. Candlyland (and this week so many rounds of Uno). Huge granny square blanket. Somehow always getting to that place of love and cuddling and just being together by the end of the day. The altar that's beside me as I chat with the ladies in my new one-on-one offering (in the beta testing phase - will be open to anyone in June!). A card that pretty much says it all (sending me a card in the mail is a way straight to my heart). Ellie's favorite evening activity has become these beads by B. Toys. A peek at the current studio altar. And I just keep rounding those corners as I granny away over here in the evenings while watching Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries on Netflix.

Gathering up photos like this is a way to really see evidence of the ways I'm living over here. It helps me to push aside the old stories and the shoulds. And it helps me see the textures and colors and rhythms of our days in this little house. 

here

liz lamoreux

Over here I'm brainstorming plans for my new website (I'm doing it myself on Squarespace 7 like I just did with the new retreats site).

I'm taking Ellie on little adventures, and she's really getting into taking photos and pausing to take them together (post all about her camera adventures coming soon).

I'm creating new items for the shop. First up: new postcards!

I'm diving into to take more "pinnable" photos by creating some new backgrounds to use for jewelry + other good things.

I'm learning that we have come to that stage where Ellie wants to just play on the playground by herself. I don't have to walk around helping and talking to her the whole time. She's probably been there for a long time, but I kind of avoid the playground. When we were at the park this past weekend, I started writing a post in my head called "I'm never been a good playground mom." (So many reasons why.) But this place where I can be there where she can see me and run over for reassurance while she also just dives into playing, this I can do.

I'm soaking up the gratitude for having stood under a magnolia tree while the blue sky winked down at me and I had my camera and was able to capture so many photos of the gorgeousness.

And I'm trying to carry my big camera with me as much as possible. It's helping me really notice the light, the simple joys, the beauty around me.

here

liz lamoreux

I've been carrying my "big girl" camera with me again these days. Before Ellie was born, I used to carry it almost every single time I left the house. And then I carried a diaper bag. And then my iPhone came along. And I just brought it out when we went somewhere special or when I needed to photograph something for my blog or work. But just carrying it with me again and noticing the simple and gorgeous and silly and quiet moments of my everyday life makes me so happy.

It truly is a way to practice creative self-care and water my soul

Using one of my favorite prompts, "here," take a peek at what I've been finding.

Here, spring unfurls early and we just soak it up in awe.


Here, we practice going out in the world using our kind voices while still being ourselves with every step.

 

Here, a little girl finds her joy.

 

Here, we both grow each day. And it's so hard. And beautiful. And messy. And true.


Here, the blue sky surprises us when it appears and I stand outside and soak it up.


Here, I remember how finding myself through my lens brings me home.

 

Here, we catch her in these magic moments of singing to herself and another stitch sews up the cracks in my heart.

Here, I listen to the wisdom within me and make the choice to choose love again and again.

Yes.

*****

Water Your Mama Soul is ongoing class that invites you to use creative self-care to help you come home to yourself.

I've created this class because I believe 10 days of focused creative self-care for just 10-20 minutes a day will change your life. Mamas have little time for themselves and need to be able to turn to accessible practices to ground themselves in the midst of real life. I'm running this class again live because I believe in the power of a circle of women supporting one another and saying, "I hear you. Me too...me too."

In Water Your Mama Soul, you will use your camera, journaling prompts, and self-care practices to reconnect with yourself. This will be a 10-day journey into self-care, healing, and noticing what you need. You will come away with practices you can use again and again to fill up your own internal well so you can be more present to your loved ones and other things in your life. Learn more and sign up right here.