the faces of ellie jane (july 30)

(some scenes from our evening in this corner of the world. wish you could hear the cooing. it. makes. my. heart. smile.)

what is real (today)

 

friendship

love

understanding

a hand to grasp in the darkness

(this is today)

*****

i have begun taking a daily ::what is real:: mirror photo.

the series started the first night that we slept for a few hours at the tree house while ellie was in the PICU. in a few minutes of quiet when i was by myself in that room, i had this urge to document the real face of this new journey. in some ways, i wanted to feel seen by someone, and it turned out that being seen by myself was like a hand i could hold over those next few days. 

i have continued to seek what is real in a moment each day. before i take the photo, i think about what is real in this moment and let my face relax to wherever that truth lies. then i snap.

i am documenting the photos over on flickr but will share them here from time to time.

abloom.

 

(snippets of summer through my lens)

abloom

(adjective, abounding with blooms)

the bursting with pink patchwork quilt sits beneath her crossed legs

as she creates a crown of queen anne's lace

with each twist and turn of the stem,

she smells her still sticky from watermelon juice fingers

hears the insistent jingle of the ice cream man's truck, two streets away,

and feels the sun's cocooning warmth

finished, she places the crown upon her head, stands,

and slowly, she begins to spin

the fuschia, purple, orange of the dahlias and snapdragons blur

one foot races the other as she circles

stopping suddenly, she crosses her feet at the ankles, and in one movement,

she lands on the blanket with a grin

sipping lemonade from her thermos,

a poetry reading for one begins

as she recites the words of billy collins, marge piercy, and may sarton

(mapping them into her heart)

when it is almost too much

the words, the scents, the truths

the invitation to own all of it

she walks to the roses

curtsies

and breathes in each petal

*****

introducing seasons 
(a new necklace series in the shop)

in my corner of the world, people often joke that we have two seasons: rain and "july and august." but i don't feel that way. i think the colors in this corner of the world are magic. spring begins her dance in february when the crocus inches toward the sky. when summer arrives, the dahlias are standing so proud, you can't help but breathe a little deeper when you come across their brilliant swaying stalks. fall brings leaves that sparkle as the rain sprinkles upon them. and winter brings a green that hints (even with its grey companion in the sky) that spring will return. the seasons sometimes tumble awkwardly from one to the next as they forget the calendar's invitation to arrive, instead finding their own path. capturing them through my lens provides me with moments to sit in the quiet and remember...

each season, i am creating a limited edition necklace that honors the colors, smells, textures of that season. the necklace is paired with a poem and a word (the poem's title) that shares a sliver of one moment in that season.

today, i am introducing abloom: a necklace inspired by a romantic afternoon for one filled with words and colors and juicy moments and the reminder to soak up every second of its beauty.

 

you can find abloom in my etsy shop, and it will be available for the rest of the summer.

in this moment {i know}

in this moment, i know that standing inside friendship can bring me right back to me.

(thank you)

patience.

point defiance park . august 2009 (photo by jon)

On June 3, we began our journey toward a new normal with a new member of our family, and just as we were finding our footing, another path appeared to add an entirely new layer to this "normal."

And here we are.

Patience is our new mantra.

Yes.

On Monday, when we met with Ellie's cardiologist, Dr. S, the above quote from the Buddha floated through my mind. For the first two years of this blog, this quote appeared in my banner. Dr. S is very "be present, be here" as she pushes us to stay in this moment instead of moving our minds ahead toward the "what ifs." We have a pact; when she looks me in the eye and says "and now I am concerned," I can then start to really worry. Until then, we are waiting and breathing. Even though on paper, things are...well...somewhat scary, all of us are waiting and breathing. Ellie's medication is working, which means her heart isn't working quite so hard (which is good). We will be visiting Dr. S every couple of days for a bit to make sure Ellie's heart finds its way to the rhythm we want. (There is of course a story that tells the details of what we are experiencing, but just like my experience with my pregnancy and Ellie's birth, I am just not quite ready to go into all those details yet. Time...time...)

So here is the scoop I want to share: As we find our way in this new normal, I am finding that when I let my mama brain rest sometimes and allow my creative brain to take over, I feel more myself and can be a lot more present. So even though I will still share updates of how Ellie is doing and we will be spending time in doctors' offices and all that fun stuff, I am going to keep the creative juices flowing in this space as it feels right.

So stay tuned for:
More about my experience writing Inner Excavation (and a peek at the cover!)
A sneak peek of the amazing contributors who are in my book
A new necklace series in the shop
A new design to the shop
A few new collaborations
More about upcoming Be Present Retreats
...and a few other things

Thank you again for all of your kind words, prayers, emails, phone calls...we continue to feel so surrounded in love and hope. Even though we know we have no control over what is to come, each day, Jon and I look into Ellie Jane's eyes and believe that all will be okay. Thank you for believing along side us.

Blessings and light,

Liz

::home::

 

breathing in the fresh air of home . july 18, 2010

thank you for surrounding us with light and love.

yes.

my heart knows we are so blessed, and i am so grateful for the way so many have kept us in their thoughts...

i am on the cusp of that feeling where just one person's gentle touch or kind word or invitation to be seen might send me into a puddle...and so i try to sleep to give my mind and heart a rest...

our "new normal" continues, but we are home. 

we are home.

more soon...

blessings,

liz

in this moment {what is real}

in this moment, i am sitting inside hope, inviting my emotional self to rest, keeping my eyes open (barely), climbing a learning curve, focusing on a little bean, and remembering (trying to remember) to breathe.

*****

about five years ago, i was in manzanita oregon (a place that has a piece of my heart) at a yoga retreat. during that retreat, i wrote the following: my work is to create peace around me and to write about true things, feelings, and moments so that others will know they are not alone....this is my practice. (you can read more about this here.)

a few weeks later, i started this blog, and that phrase has been a guide as i share things in this space. and, of course, i learned that by sharing the truth, i know that i am not alone.

today is a day where i need to be reminded of this.

for the last two days, we have been with miss ellie in the pediatric ICU. her heart has been "having a time of it." she is okay, and we expect that to continue. but we are scared and trying to stay really really present as we give so much love to this little one.

so if you feel moved, could you close your eyes and breathe deeply and send a little love and a few prayers to a little room in tacoma where a little heart (and a little family) is trying to find its way.

thank you...

blessings,

liz

rooted

(a project inspired by Inner Excavation)