123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789



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


Filtering by Category: real

the heart.full collection

liz lamoreux

whole heart talismans in the shop

She wasn’t one for a month all about love or stringing hearts up about the house. She rolled her eyes at the idea of one day when someone you call sweetheart is supposed to buy you roses. She had spent so many days alone that even when she found herself in love and loved in return, she still tried to ignore this need others had to make one day about something that never quite felt real. She was quiet about it but mostly tolerated seeing everyone in red, and then she bought the chocolates when they went on sale.

Years passed with this story on repeat.

Then a few years ago on a day in July, she found herself holding the pieces of her ownheart together as she watched a doctor try to heal the tiny heart of her five-week old daughter. That day gave her a new sense of what a heart could be, could do, could mean.

In the days that followed, even as life shifted and pushed her in ways she never expected, she found herself saying yes:

to hearts about the house
to seeing the light shine through the cracks
to wearing red
to letting herself be loved
to opening herself to healing

As the light returns a bit more each day and the calendar moves closer to that day of love, she stands in this moment and says yes to all that is to come.

I wrote a variation of these words back in 2011 and am revisiting them because I just really want to tell you this story. I want to share this glimpse into how you can hold something as simple (and huge) as "I just really don't like Valentine's Day" in one hand, and in the other, hold this belief that you can choose love today. And I guess I just want you to know why hearts so often appear in my jewelry, in my photos, in my world.

Hearts have become my way of holding the idea of "love always wins" close to me. 

And here's the thing about choosing to believe that "love always wins." It doesn't mean, "love always makes life easier" or "when someone loves you everything falls into place" or "you aren't winning if you aren't in love" or even "love will never hurt you." To me, it means a belief that keeping my heart open by choosing love (for those around me, for life, for the earth, for myself) will profoundly make the world a better place to live. 

Yes. Yes. Yes.

The Heart.Full Collection

And I'm also reintroducing the Heart.Full Collection in my Soul Mantras shop. My heart lockets have always been part of it since I introduced it back in 2011, but I'm excited to grow it a bit more and give it a special spot in my new shop.

I've gathered up the hearts alongside the phrases I hold close to me when love feels far away and put them inside this collection. I'll be donating 10% of the profits from these necklace to Mary Bridge Children's Hospital here in Tacoma where Ellie spent five days when she was just a few weeks old before she went on to have open-heart surgery in Seattle.

Thank you for supporting my shop and this collection and for reading these words today. I'm so grateful for you (yes, you).

And because the new "whole heart" talismans shown in the photo above have become my favorite thing in my shop (maybe ever), I'm also introducing a buy 4 get 1 free special. Several of my customers have told me that they loving giving them to their friends. And I began to imagine so many beautiful souls carrying words like "loved" and "brave" and "kindred" and "xoxo" and "whole" in their pockets reminding them that they aren't alone...so I want to help you make that happen in your corner with this special.

Sending love love love your way today.


liz lamoreux

Instagram caption read: "It may be takeout in the midst of a mess, but it's still my little family together around the table sharing about our day and annoying each other and laughing and singing along with Johnny Cash."

Because I want to sit at the table more.

Because I want to invite in more joy.

Because I want to keep things simple when that will bring in more ease.

Because there can be beautiful, real, true, for-the-scrapbook moments even when the house is cluttered and you're eating amidst a current creative project.

Because judging myself does not create space for more joy.

Because noticing these moments invites in more light.

Because look at that smile. 


(Instagram photo + words prompted by Jenna's One Moment Memoirs daily prompts. It's free and she's sharing prompts for the whole month right here.)

one breath. one step. yes.

liz lamoreux

My mom's coming to visit this week, and tonight, as I found myself scrubbing the bathroom floor, I thought back to these words I wrote about two years ago. I pulled them out again because I needed to re-read them.

I thought you might need them too.


The Buddha says,
"Praise and blame, gain and loss, pleasure and sorrow come and go like the wind.
To be happy, rest like a giant tree in the midst of them all."

I was kneeling next to the bathtub scrubbing the tub like it hadn’t been scrubbed in a long time. And the truth is, I couldn’t remember the last time I had really scrubbed it. With each thrust of my arm, all I could think was, “This is never going to get done…I am so so tired.” Feelings were stacking on top of each other as I realized that even this “cuts through years of soap scum” cleaner wasn’t working.

When my daughter Ellie Jane was born, we turned the guest room into her room, which means that when my mom and step-dad visit us, they usually stay at a hotel. But this trip, my mom was coming alone and sleeping on our pullout sofa. So this time, my need to get the bathtub clean was at an all-time high as she was due to arrive the next day. 

But it wasn’t getting clean.

I moved on to the tile on the sides of the shower hoping at least they would find their way to sparkle. Standing in the shower, I used all the elbow grease I had in me to move that green scrub sponge back and forth, up and down. The results were slow. 

Next, I began to concentrate on one tile. It took longer than I want to admit to get that one tile sparkling, but finally it was white again.

Then I moved on to the next one. 

After about six were clean, I was almost in tears because the arms attached to this not-so-much-in-shape body hurt so much. And my mind was swirling with the to-do list I needed to complete before my daughter woke up from her nap.

So I stopped and stood there staring at the handful of sparkling white tiles next to the not-so-white-cloaked-in-soap-scum tiles thinking about how it would take me hours to finish this. As I tried the breathe in the midst of the strong smell from the cleaner that hadn’t worked, I could hear a voice wiser than me, yet from within me, say, “One tile at a time baby girl.”

So I started to clean again. As I began to find the rhythm with my sponge, my mind turned with thoughts of “How could I let the shower get this dirty?” and “Why didn’t I just clean more often?” and “How do I get anything done around here?” and “Shouldn’t someone in her mid-thirties have a cleaner house than mine?” and on and on. After another tile was clean, I stopped at this thought, “Whose expectations are these really?”

My mother doesn’t have the expectation that I will spend five hours of my life scrubbing my shower before she arrives. I know she would rather I spend those five hours resting and laughing and getting to the park with Ellie and enjoying dinner with my family.

And there was the lesson again: My swirling mind was creating expectations and guilt and ideas of how things should be instead of being present to how things are and I want them to be.

So I listened to this wiser me and came up with a plan: Every time I shower, I scrub one tile until it sparkles. 

And even thought it might take me all summer to get that shower sparkling, I am getting it done at my pace.

As I write these words, it seems so simple, this story about how scrubbing a shower reduced me to tears but then reminded me of how I want to live. I want to be right here in this moment instead of rushing ahead to imagined expectations that do not serve me. 

Today, maybe you are finding yourself rushing ahead or making assumptions or creating a to-do list that isn’t serving you or thinking you are supposed to somehow do it all. 

Maybe instead of doing all of that swirling, we could just be right here together: one tile, one step, one breath at a time.


I want to invite you to my new community of kindred spirits gathering to seek the "YES" in our beautiful, sometimes messy lives. Hand to Heart is a soft place to land each day as you listen to the wisdom within you and open up your heart a bit more with each breath. We'll be exploring new soul care and being present practices each month along with poetry, chats over tea, and even a dance party of two. 

For the rest of the year, this community will be where you'll find me if you want to work with me online. I don't plan to offer traditional ecourses in the same way I have in the past right now but will be pouring love and joy into this group and the practices we'll explore. If you want to connect with me and other kindreds daily in an online group setting, Hand to Heart is the offering for you. I hope you'll come along.

this is me

liz lamoreux

This is me. Standing tall in the midst of my 37th year. Me pausing in the middle of the day and creating space to notice, to say, "What do you need kid?"

And then standing and breathing and listening. 

Here in my 37th year, I'm claiming this truth: I'm so damn glad to be here.

To be able to feel and hold and see the beauty and the shit that make up this gorgeous, crazy, sometimes really hard life.

To be able to deeply know that I am whole in the midst of all that has come before this moment and all that is to come ahead of me. And that I will continue to be whole even on the days I don't feel like I am.

To be able to look at the wrinkles forming around my eyes and mouth, the grey roots that I keep forgetting to cover, the softness that holds me together and feel my shoulders relax as I settle into the beauty of all of it.

To be able to make mistakes and still choose love. 

To be able to know the difference between speaking my truth and knowing my truth.

To be able to gently hold the vulnerable bits. The parts where I'm learning how to ask for help. The parts where I'm trying to open up to even more love. The parts where I'm admitting that I don't know. The parts where I'm listening more and softening judgement more and letting things just be when that is the right move. 

This is me looking myself in the eyes with compassion.

This is me seeing beauty and wholeness and truth.

This is me softening and opening up even more to the love within me, that surrounds me. 



Today is Susannah's Conway's birthday and she's asked a few kindreds to share thoughts on "the (delicious) truth about aging." Soak up the wisdom from Susannah and others here.

just show up as you.

liz lamoreux

I sent this note out to my newsletter kindreds last week and as I continue to open my heart up toward connection over here, I thought I'd share it with you in case you too need these words.

At the retreats I host, I watch a special magic unfold over the first evening and then into the first day we spend together. I watch women shed the labels of their everyday lives and begin to just show up as them. They release their grip on being identified as the roles they play - mother, wife, daughter of someone who is ill, woman going through a divorce, a person unsure of her next step, someone feeling stuck - and they settle into their chosen spot in the circle. As they listen to the stories of others, they begin to realize they are not alone in it all as a quiet chorus of "me too, me too" echoes in our circle.

For these five days, they don't have to be the strong one, the one who has it all together, the one who knows exactly what to do. They can just be themselves in the circle. They can listen and hold space for another. They can share a secret dream and not worry about judgment. They can be the quiet observer. They can even instigate a dance party after lunch. 

I watch these incredible women make the choice to open up their hearts and let out pieces of their true essence. And when they do this, the others around them so often say with words and actions, "I see you. You are beautiful. You have so much to offer this world. You are not alone. I'm here beside you."

We all need a space where we can just be us. A space where we aren't in charge. Where we feel safe enough to unearth this true essence inside us. A space to be the quiet one or the one who gives the biggest hugs or the one who invites others to dance or the one who simply nods and listens murmuring "yes." A space where we can connect with other like-minded souls.

Over here in my corner, the truth is that I'm longing for a space like this here in my own community. A space where I can just be me while surrounded by kindred spirits. A few weeks ago, I discovered a "new-to-me" yoga studio that seems very much in alignment with that essence inside me. A few times a week, I visit their website. I look at the class descriptions. I come up with another reason why I probably can't go this week. And then I find myself alone in the quiet wishing for that space to show up as me.

Are you nodding over there and thinking "me too" as you read my words and come up with reasons why you can't find this space in your corner of the world? If yes, I'm wondering if you might want to join me in taking one step toward finding that space for yourself. 

This one move might look like going to a yoga class or signing up for an art workshop or asking that other mother at daycare to get coffee this weekend or reaching out to an online friend you met in an ecourse and saying "Can we Skype?"

But most importantly, this move is going to look like practicing showing up as you. That's the only way you're going to know if it is the right space for you. 

I'll be over here working toward making my small move and cheering you on as you make yours. Let me know how it goes or share what's stopping you. Know that you aren't alone over there.


If you've been feeling called to take time away from your day-to-day life to practice showing up as you and deeply connecting with others, consider coming along to the March Your Story Retreat. Due to cancellations, there are a few more spots available.

Join Elise Blaha Cripe, Kelly Barton, and me and a circle of kindreds as we share our stories, play with paint, write, walk on the beach, and laugh late into the night. 

We will also look at how our dreams can inform our stories and dive into the topic of how to embrace the everyday joys and the messy parts of daily life. 

Learn more about the Your Story Retreat here. And please just reply with any questions. (Note that there will not be a five-day summer retreat this year, and this will more than likely be the only Oregon Coast retreat in 2014.)

space around assumptions

liz lamoreux

Can you create space around your assumptions today?

Can you let go of assuming someone's life is perfect based on the picture you are painting with cobbled together Facebook statuses, Instagram photos, and stories you've heard someone else tell?

Can you spend time observing your own way of moving through the world before you fill in the blanks about how you think someone else does?

Can you put aside your comparisons and just be right here living your life?

Can you imagine what it might be like to be the person next to you right now?

Can you find empathy buried underneath the fear that you aren't enough?

Can you take a breath before you speak, write that status, send that email?

Can you take three breaths?

Can you walk outside and listen to the birds singing instead of comparing yourself to the chatter online today?

Can you create space around your heart and choose love?

Can you choose to love yourself right now, right here, in this moment?

Can you choose to trust you are enough and let go of those assumptions you are clutching?


These are just a few thoughts I've been having over here as I continue to navigate all that this crazy, awesome, hard, beautiful life holds.

Sending peace and light to your corner,


PS To receive little reminders and love notes like this one in your inbox, sign up to receive my (almost) weekly newsletter here.

you are not alone

liz lamoreux

You are not alone.

Trusting this truth is really the core of the work I'm trying to do in this world.

Because here is what I believe:

Although our experiences are different, we've all felt lonely, misunderstood, confused, deeply hurt, abandoned, lost, and maybe even broken.

But you are not broken. You might have places that feel broken and moments that feel lonely and experiences that have left you feeling deeply hurt. 

You might even feel really lost right now.

But you are not alone.

The person beside you on the subway, in line next to you at the grocery store, dropping your mail off at your home, the person you deeply admire, your boss, your best friend, your mom, the girl who teased you in middle school, the person coming through the front door at the end of the day, that person has felt all these things too.

But so often we don't talk about it.

It's okay to talk about it. It's okay to hold hands with fear and courage and reach out. It's okay to tell the true stories.

And it's okay to trust that you aren't alone. 

If it's hard, just try it right now for one, maybe two deep breaths. (Try on that trust today.) And then for a few more deep breaths tomorrow. 

You might even want to reach out and let someone else know they aren't alone. So often we realize we aren't alone when we tell someone else that we see them...that we are here for them.

I'll be here beside you trusting too.

Sending you so much light across the miles dear one. Yes.



For more love notes like this one, sign up to receive my (almost) weekly newsletter here.

the (real) practice

liz lamoreux

The following was one of the stories I shared during Week 1 of the Chickadee Road :: Studio Sessions last fall. Throughout the Studio Sessions, Kelly and I give some real glimpses into our own practices because as you know, I believe that it is okay to tell the true stories.


September, 2012

As soon as Kelly and I brainstormed the Studio Sessions and came up with a start date, I began to envision how my first morning of my practice would unfold.

I would get up, get my two-year-old Ellie ready for school, Jon would take her, and then I would change into my yoga clothes and head out to my studio ready to spend about 30 minutes doing yoga. Then I would tuck into the couch and the words would just drip out of me as I would write a morning poem. And it would unfold like this each day because we were creating space for me to reconnect to the yogi within and the poet who longs to write more words each day. Reconnecting to the person I missed when every morning was filled with taking care of a little one with not much time for me.

But then Ellie woke up in such a bad mood. She wouldn't eat. She didn't want to get dressed. She was literally weeping in her bowl of oatmeal. I ended up letting her wear her pajama top to school. She cried. A lot. And then Jon bookended the experience by being in a really bad mood too and losing his patience several times. I kept breathing and focusing on what needed to happen to get them out the door so that Jon wouldn't be late to work.

When they left, I stood in the middle of our suddenly very quiet kitchen thinking that there was no way this exhausted in need of a shower to wake up and some food in her belly mama was going to head straight to her studio for poetry and yoga.

So I made breakfast and then showered and tweaked the day a bit. I let go of my vision and instead just committed to breathing and writing a few words.

When I made it to my studio, I lit a candle and then went to grab my yoga mat. It was no where to be found. Deep breath. I let it go and just got onto the floor into child's pose because my body was longing for it. 

Until I got into child's pose and found myself totally uncomfortable. 

The mind chatter was getting louder, but I pushed myself to treat myself as though I was my own student. Gently reminding my body how to stretch and how to move to get comfortable and reconnect with my breath.


I eventually eased into child's pose and stayed there until I began to melt into the carpet.

Yes. This.

Then I chanted and sat in the quiet for a few minutes.

I ended the practice by letting my poet self write a few notes as I drank tea and ate a piece of dark chocolate.

It wasn't ideal. It didn't look like the world of the yoginis and writers I see online (or make up in my own head). But it was my practice. It was what I needed. And it was a beginning. A first day. 


The Studio Sessions begin Monday! Join Kelly Barton and me for the Chickadee Road :: Studio Sessions, a four-week adventure into creative practices with a community of kindred spirits.

The premise of the sessions is that you choose a creative practice, from cooking to art journaling to yoga to writing (the possibilites are endless really). Then each day we send you little "lessons" and stories via email while you also you gather with like-minded souls for support, encouragement, and community.

Throughout the four weeks Kelly and I share glimpses into our studios and practices, a few tools we use each day, and other really good things. There will also be two live video chats (available by recording for those who can't be there) where we'll share stories and answer questions.

We'd love to have you join the incredible group of kindreds already coming along. 
This is really going to be good!  

Find out more and register here. And feel free to send over any questions.