here

now: neighborhood children giggle and yell and run under the peeking through grey sunshine as i sit cross-legged in the middle of my bed wrapping wire around beads and stringing them together to soon be sent across the sea to become a talisman of words another wants to hold close to her heart.

yesterday: a cafe full of chattering, eating, meeting people, i weave between the tables trying to find a place to call my own where i can sip this mug of chai and write and remind myself that i do know what step to take next even though the uncertainty sometimes slips around me like a cloak i don't remember buying in a dusty flea market another lifetime ago.

the day before: when she refuses to get in the car, we walk along the sidewalk passing storefronts and cars with "you have to hold my hand" said aloud on repeat, and then we turn and do it again because she has no need to understand the stacked up inside my head to do list that includes "picking up the taxes" on the line right after the doctor's appointment we just completed.

dirt and poem notes

Somewhere rests a story that involves someone saying, "Didn't you eat dirt as a child? All children eat dirt." 

Before I could answer, my dad said in a very clear, even tone, "Elizabeth, did not eat dirt." 

We were laughing around a dinner table. Me, four and a half months pregnant and wondering about the personality that was becoming inside me, wondering if he or she would be a bit more fearless than her mother.

And here we are, more than two years later, watching this personality develop each day before us.

Fearless. Joyful. (wee bit) Stubborn. Hilarious. Open. Always on the move.

People so often want to "figure out" who she looks like. I just love that she is finding her way to be herself.

*****

Somewhere in the words above rests a poem. I'm not sure where to begin yet. I'm not sure about the title or what the first line will be. But I know that one day soon, I want to revisit these words and these images and these memories and play with a poem.

Until then, I am calling this a poem note because, well, that is what it is. The notes for a poem. Maybe even a few words that will form their way into a poem. I have been writing "poem notes" for a few years now as a way to take those notes without feeling the pressure of writing the perfect poem. Sometimes they end up actually seeming like they might be a finished (or almost finished) poem. Other times they are more notes, like the words above, with images I don't want to forget.

I love the way the poet inside me sees the world. And I am so grateful to poetry for pushing me to let this poet within me breathe.

If you are interested in giving that poet within you space to play and breathe and observe the world around you, consider coming along for Poem It Out. Class starts next Monday, and we are going to have so much fun!

march 22

as we stood below blue in the crisp air, she handed them to me one at a time. we talked about how i used to do the same thing with my grandmother. when we went inside, i put them in the tiniest vase i could find that rests on the windowsill above the sink.

later, as i looked at them while making a cup of tea, i kept thinking about how living fills the cracks missing creates.

come back to me...

sunset self-portrait . gearhart, oregon . august 20, 2010

I come from quiet, storming stardust
I come from skipping stones on seven rivers
I come from reflected, reaching purple mountains
I come from the unafraid, soaring shadow of the heron's wing
I come from the moaning, oming whales

Shadow, bring me exploding courage
Bring me stretching, inward roots
Shadow, bring me sun-centered source

Come back to me stardust, fill me with delight
Come back to me skipping, plopping stones, bring me the stories
Come back to me
Shadow
Come back to me

*****

This evening, I spent time with a group of incredible women at a local doula meeting. I was the guest speaker, and they gave me the gift of letting me share some of my stories and then indulging me when I asked if we could write some poetry. My body is still vibrating a bit with the beauty that reveals itself when women share their stories and unearth the poems that live inside them.

As I drove home, I felt called to find a legal pad that sits under the pile of many things beside my bed. This paper houses the poems I have written at several workshops and the words that pushed me to begin this blog. As I read the poem above that I wrote in a 2008 workshop with (the goddess of life who is) Susan Wooldridge, I am struck by the truths it holds and deeply wish that someone had whispered my own words to me a year ago. There is beauty to be found in revisiting our writing and seeing ourselves reflected. In this moment, I am grateful to my younger self for her wisdom and bravery that would hold her through all that was to come.

seeking light

liz :: viv

This girl, she 
stands inside delectable ripening plums
leaps toward illuminating bittersweet blossoms
marinates between subtle hints of coconut milk and opulent purple silk
crawls beneath windows with views of wayside hope and stoppered truths

this girl, she
emerges as the essence of yes

*****

Vivienne McMaster and I are collaborating on a few fabulous in-person and online workshops, retreats, and other goodies (yet to be announced) that we are excited to share with you. As we work together on these projects, we are delighted to share a series of "Seeking" posts on both of our blogs. In each post, we will create a diptych of images, share what we are seeking, and perhaps share information about one of our collaborations! 

Today, we both used the prompt "seeking light" for the photos in our diptych and then paired our photos with a poem note/journal writing. Visit Viv's blog to read her written response to our photos.

On July 16^th and 17^th, we will be teaching a workshop together at Teahouse Studio in Berkeley, California. This workshop is packed full of the creative wonder we are both so passionate about. Woven through the 2-day experience will be some juicy writing prompts and guided meditations led by me and playful and wonder-filled photography prompts led by Vivienne. We’ll also be diving into making a mixed-media journal inspired by my book Inner Excavation. 

Registration for this event closes very soon (June 24), so we encourage you to jump into this experience and join us! We’d so love to meet you.

musings on spring (3)

market tulips . may 4, 2011

my heart carries
yellow honey-scented blooms
green i want to live inside
the unbending truth that you will return

my song

manzanita . taken with iphone and hipstamatic app

i come to the sea
to remember
the way i want to move in this world 

to lean into
the truth of all that has existed before me

to breathe in
the joy
the light
the shadows 

i come to the sea
to listen

and it is here that i find my way back to my song 

*****

i am over here continuing to soak up the beauty that was the joy retreat and reflecting on the reasons why i want to always gather women by the sea and among the trees. and as i begin to finalize plans for next month's midwest retreat, i am smiling so big knowing i will be bringing this kind of experience back to my roots. 

musings on spring {2}

front-yard crocus . march 2011

today,

as i sit inside the missing

spring brings with her each year,

i pretend all of who you are

has arrived by chickadee wing

and your chosen path

is to slowly blow open

each petal of the crocus