show up as me

At the beginning of my Create Space ecourse, I ask the students to claim an intention for themselves as they begin. I practice this with them, and in the Fall class, my intention was "show up as me." This weekend, I have been thinking about what I wrote about this intention: 

This is my intention because, at times, I can get so distracted by my whirling mind and the shoulds and the "who does she think she is" gremlins and wishing for more time and the comparisons to others and how the list goes on. Knowing these things about me has gently pushed me to focus on just showing up as me and trusting myself more as I do this. 

I have been thinking about these words because I have been thinking about how really leaning into wholeness might affect my blog and how I blog. When I come to this space, I do show up as me. However, as I wrote above, sometimes those whirling thoughts of "who does she thinks she is" and the comparisons come up, and I don't always tell the stories here that I long to tell.

And there are some stories I long to tell:

I want to talk more about poetry. Some of you might remember that I used to post about poetry every Thursday when I co-led a poetry community a few years ago. When that project ended, I didn't post about poetry as often for a lot of reasons that I can't even remember now. Starting this week, there will be more poetry.

I want to tell you more about the experience of writing Inner Excavation. I want to share thoughts on how it has really been to have a real live book on a shelf in bookstores and tell the truth about how my book shipping from Amazon on the same day my daughter had open-heart surgery has affected my entire experience with "the real live book."

I want to tell you more about Ellie and my world as a mama. For some reason I have worried that people will come here and think "oh how quaint, she blogs all about her kid now" and miss the whole point. But really, I long to tell you more about our days and about a few things concerning her health and share some things I have learned about having a child with "an illness." I really want to talk about my experience of letting go of how you think it is supposed to be or how you thought you would be as a parent, especially when your daughter's cardiologist says things like, "it is time to let her have milkshakes and french fries" because getting weight on her and her keeping it on is more important than the shame of not being one of those "natural mamas" you hoped you might become. (And then there is the whole "yes, she has plastic toys" shame and the "she watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse because it always gets rid of her grumps" shame...oh how I want to invite all of us to let go of this shame.)

I want to tell you about how incredible and somewhat wacky it was to experience such growth in my Etsy business, host five retreats, begin to write a series of articles for a magazine, teach two online classes, and begin some incredible projects all while being a work at home mom in 2011. (I think I can only talk about it now that I am on the other side and saw that it was possible. But oh my goodness there were times that I thought I was drowning yet I kept going and learned this: I always get it all done, especially when I take time to rest.)

I want to talk more about the Be Present Retreats and share photos and stories from participants about what happens at the retreats and their experiences. I want to tell you about how leading and teaching at these retreats has invited me to realize I am truly at home when I do this work.

I want to go on more self-portrait adventures and encourage you to do the same. I want to share more about self-portraits and why I feel they are such a beautiful way to feel deeply seen.

I want to talk more about how I am trying to push myself to come from a place of compassion when I realize I am having a "knee-jerk" reaction to something or someone.

I want to share more about how I wish we would all let go of whispering "who does she think she is?" and instead stand tall in the truth of who we are.

Yes, there is so much I want to share, and this list feels like it is just the beginning.

Thank you for coming along...

surrendering

Tonight, I am writing you from the land of antibiotics and vick's vaporub and literally trying to breathe and so many mugs of tea + honey as this mama is down for the count with a bug. 

In this moment, I am surrendering to not making cookies or getting it all done or cooking from the pile of waiting recipes or being cheery.

I am surrendering to asking for help and letting Jon do almost all of it.

I am surrendering to asking for more time and saying no.

I am surrendering to disappointment and exhaustion.

I am surrendering to answering "what do you need right now" with the truth (and the truth was biscuits + lingonberry jam).

I am surrendering to unexpected laughter and a little girl's need for cuddles.

I am surrendering to the breath surrounding patience.

I am surrendering to tears.

I am surrendering to just being right here.

I am surrendering to rest.

I am surrendering to the choice that awaits in each moment.

a case of the melancholies with a side of joy

On Sunday afternoon, after my dad and stepmom and my brother and his girlfriend had left and the house was quiet because Ellie was napping, the melancholies set in.

I was so grateful to have everyone here. Saturday was a day I had been longing for in a way I hadn't realized I needed as a fantastic holiday meal was cooked (by my stepmom who made the best stuffing I have had in a long long time) as everyone talked and laughed in the family room that is right off of the kitchen. My house was filled with people I love and everyone seemed content to just be there. We opened gifts and Ellie was excited and a bit overwhelmed in the way a one year old is this time of year. 

It was just all over so quickly. And knowing we would not have any other family or loved ones around for the next two weeks simply made me feel sad. 

Sunday evening, after Ellie woke up from a long nap, she would not stop giggling. She kept wanting me to "chase" her around the kitchen table and into the kitchen and around to the hallway again again again. I've been keeping the camera away from my face and snapping at her height and I love what I am discovering when I look at the photos later. I can hear her laughter when I look at the photos above and see pure joy with a dash of mischievousness. These photos really capture her right now. 

As I think about all the feelings I am holding this week, this is what I know: I can miss my family and friends deeply and still know we are living where we are supposed to be right now. I can give myself the space to feel sad that we won't have loved ones here for Christmas. I can hold melancholy in one hand and joy and beauty in the other and find myself breathing deeply somewhere in the middle. 

This is life. Yes. This is living with my heart open to all of it.

something i've been thinking about

we live an entire life outside of the bits and pieces we share with others.
we live a life outside of facebook updates and blog posts and emails dashed off.
we live a life outside of the simple answers to "what did you do today?" and "how are you?" and "what's new?"
we live a life outside the assumptions and guesses and unanswered voicemails.
we live a life outside of the stolen, ignored, missed moments.
we live a life outside of the roles we play.
we live a life outside of who others think we must be.

we live an entire life 
inside
the home within us. 

i live an entire life outside of the bits and pieces i share with others. 
i live a life outside of facebook updates and blog posts and emails dashed off. 
i live a life outside of the simple answers to "what did you do today?" and "how are you?" and "what's new?"
i live a life outside the assumptions and guesses and unanswered voicemails.
i live a life outside of the stolen, ignored, missed moments.
i live a life outside of the roles i play.
i live a life outside of who others think i must be.

i live an entire life 
inside
the home within me. 

and today, knowing that truth is enough.

*****

and you, what have you been thinking about lately? what pulls at you in the quiet moments when you wish someone would see you?

creating space for all of it

Earlier today, I experienced a moment that surprised me as it opened me up (how grief often arrives in the cloak of surprise). Even though I come to this space a bit dishevled and vulnerable, I felt really called to just show up as me and share about this moment in a video post.

Also, the "Nona" I mention in this video is Nona Jordan. A post about my experience working with her (including how she is inviting me to finally let go of some major shame around money) is coming soon.

*****

If you would like to continue this conversation about creating space for grief and all of our experiences, consider joining me for Create Space, the ecourse that begins Monday. This is going to be a really intimate class that will give you the space to open your heart to joy, beauty, truth, love, and what is real in your life. As I gather up all that we will be exploring, I am so excited to share tools and stories that can be companions for you on your journey. Find out more about Create Space here.   

what is real (october 7)

mirror self-portrait (straight out of the camera) . frog creek lodge

one year later.

after everyone had gone to bed friday night, i stood in front of the mirror and couldn't help but smile wide at this girl i saw before me. she looked lighter and maybe even more real. and she looked beautiful.

these are the thoughts that went through my head: this is why i choose to seek the joy. this is why i let laughter in. this is why i know that all you need is love. this is why. this face of light and love is why.

hello you. hello me. it is so good to see you.

one year later.

yes.

*****

::what is real:: is a mirror self-portrait photo + a few words series that began in july of 2010. during the last year, i have noticed that the act of taking these photos feels like a meditation practice. before i take the photo, i stand in front of the mirror and think about what is real in this moment and let my face relax to wherever that truth lies. then i snap.

i document the series over on flickr but share them here from time to time.

i practice...

Around here, even though fall is still days away, the end of summer comes when Jon returns to school. This year, I am yearning for a schedule that this transition can bring while being gentle with myself as I realize that having a growing, inquisitive one year old means that a schedule will be hard to uncover most days. And I deeply get that this is part of what being a mama to a one year old is all about. At the same time, I remind myself that our day to day is a bit different from most people I know as her three times a day medication and other needs still rule our world over here. 

This time last year, almost every day I would take Ellie Jane outside for just a few minutes and show her the birds in the trees and the lavender and the maples leaves falling to the ground, and we would watch Millie run around the yard. We were singing "Beauty in the World" out loud at least ten times every day, and my own deeper understanding of the need to seek beauty and joy in the midst of all that life hands you began. I was standing tall inside hope and bravery and fear as we were counting down the days until her open-heart surgery. I remember saying variations of this to her over and over: Your only job is to live. Just be right here and breathe deep and eat and keep being you because there is so much for you to do and see and know. The world is waiting for you.

And today, as I watch her run around the yard finding leaves and little flowers and rocks, I believe that she heard me. I believe that she heard me when she was on the ventilator and I told her that when she wakes up and her heart is healed, she will be able to live big in the world. 

Part of my current practice is letting go of wanting to know what the day will bring. I take a breath and try to notice what I need while being aware of what Ellie Jane seems to need in a given moment. Until this summer, we were encouraged not to take her many places to avoid the possibility of her getting sick. And now that Jon is back to school, I am finding that I need to reprogram my mind in a way with a new understanding of what my days alone with Ellie can look like. Meaning, for months, the only outings she and I would take were to the cardiologist's and pediatrician's offices. I didn't take her to the store or the park or for walks along Puget Sound because we just worried so much about her getting sick. My heart hurts a bit thinking about all that we did not do and all that she has been through (that we have been through).

Last week, as she napped, I was feeling overwhelmed. I sat there on the couch and closed my eyes and found my breath. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Feel the space the breath creates. As I took a few moments to just be still, I reminded myself of all that I already know. I reminded myself that we walked through this time last year and the weeks that followed, so oh my goodness get out of the house girl and walk through these days too. These days that are full of laughter and joyful games and exploring all that awaits. These days that are full of so much more than I even thought they could be. These days that push me to beyond tired and remind me of what is real. These days that I want to look back on and say: We found our way. We napped. We explored. We danced. We laughed. We cried. We made it. We lived big.

So we are starting here: We are walking to the neighborhood coffee shop that is so much closer to home than I realized. Here Ellie Jane can have a strawberry smoothie with whipped cream yes please, and on this walk, she can say hi to people we pass and the birds she sees and the squirrels who run across our path. And I can take my camera to capture the small moments that are just outside our door, so that I will always remember how I chose to find beauty again and again and again.

over here...

one very small dahlia . point defiance park, august 2011

goodness it has been quite a week over here. the usual living stuff combined with jon's return to school and the schedule that brings combined with some pushes and pulls that have me a bit off kilter.

i'm trying to remember the self-care tricks i have up my sleeve while also chasing an always-on-the-move 15-month-old little girl. i'm trying to fit it all in somehow. i'm trying to breathe more than worry. i'm trying to quiet the chatter within. i'm trying to put family first while caring for my dreams. i'm trying to soak up the last few days of blue skies and warmth. i'm trying to let go and listen.

i guess the truth is that in some ways, i'm trying to find my way as i look for all that i already know...as i look for the light that is (always) waiting.

i hope this weekend brings you moments to rest and laugh and breathe it all in...and maybe a cupcake. yes. a cupcake would be perfection right about now, don't you think?

blessings,
liz