i want to remember...

july 2023

This is not a photo of @kellymadelife and me laughing so hard I started wheezing. This is not a photo of each of us tearing up as the other shared a story. This is not a photo of frozen cokes or salt and vinegar and dill pickle potato chips alongside classic rock and tree-lined streets. The is is not a photo of the most comfortable bed or the pile of pillows we’d all be lucky to have. This is not a photo of potential suitors or stories about crushes from high school. This is not a photo of the way friendship can hold space for grief and joy and hope. This is not a photo of mushroom risotto or pizza with banana peppers or fig + orange jam with goat cheese. This is a photo of a slice of my dear friend’s everyday world that I will hold close forever and ever amen.

Also, it’s possible Kelly B and I are at the beginning stages of cooking up a retreat in the midwest for next year. Yep. For real. Stay tuned.

the beauty of the everyday moments

In April, we'll explore the practice of finding the beauty in our every day and capture these moments through our camera lens. Along with all the other good things you receive with a membership to Hand to Heart each month, there will be a simple photography prompt to explore each day. This is one of the prompts we'll be exploring:

Last week, as the late afternoon eased into evening, we took a walk around our neighborhood. One of my favorite things to do is to take my camera along to gather evidence of how the season's are changing right where I live.

While we walk, I pause to quickly capture colors and textures and sounds with my camera.

Often I don't look through the lens, I just snap and look later, as I try to tap into my child self who isn't thinking about "how good the photo is" but is instead just looking at the world with wonder.

With the photo above, I just pointed my camera up toward that gorgeous blue sky and the forsythia blooms and snapped without looking through the viewfinder.

Sometimes I put my camera right on the ground to see what I can find at an ant's view. The photo above was taken with my camera right on the ground, me bending over just to press the shutter button. 

When I stood up, I realized I'd really just been taking a photo of a patch of grass. Who would have thought that this field was just waiting right there?

Try it today: Get outside and find the simple beauty and wonder of your world. And then come back here and tell me all about it.

*****

Hand to Heart is an invitation to stop signing up for another ecourse or two or three that will sit in your inbox. It is your invitation to start practicing what you know.

This ongoing offering is a soft space for you to land daily as you listen to the wisdom within you and practice what you know. When you join, you become a member of a community of kindred women who will be exploring a new soul care practice and theme each month. These practices will light the way as we find the YES in our beautiful, messy lives. Learn more and join in here.

the view from here

Sending peace and joy to you and yours. 

xoxo,

Liz

yes to this moment

This weekend, I followed my own prompt to "get outside" and breathe in the beauty in my corner of the world.

And as I stood there watching Ellie walk back and forth finding sticks and rocks to see what would make the biggest and loudest splash, I felt more grounded than I have in weeks.

Yes, this.

This life. This rememebering what I know. This being right here. This laughter. This patience. This light. This choice that is up to me every single day.

here

She started the day refusing to put her bare feet in the sand with her hands over her ears because the waves were too loud.

We just let her do her thing.

She ended the day singing "mr. water. MISSSSTTTEERRRR WAAAAAAATERRRRR. come here mr. water." amidst laughter that shook her entire body: 

 

It was an awesome BIG day.

(And I'm letting go of the need to finish blog posts and instead making more room for these moments while we're traveling. It is a really good thing to make more room for this stuff. Yes.) 

(Oh and let me know if that gallery isn't really working above. My hope is that it almost feels like stop-motion animation, but it's my first time using this feature in a blog post. Thanks!)

this is...

This is not a post about how I haven't been to Paris yet.

This is not a post about how sad I am that I didn't have professional photos taken while I was pregnant or right after Ellie was born.

This is not a post about how I'm still thinking about the food Persephone made at the Feast Retreat (and how I need to make some in my kitchen).

This is not a post about why I (still) watch Grey's Anatomy.

This is not a post about Millie's chronic ear infection and how she's moved on to the needing to see a specialist phase and how intense, sad, and expensive it is.

This is not a post about how I want to teach more workshops around the country and how I'm wondering how to make that happen.

This is not a post about how much I really want to start an art journal practice.

This is not a post about me sharing how I really feel when someone says, "Soak up every minute. They just grow up so fast. You will miss this."

This is not a post about the incredible number of words Ellie says in a day or an hour and how much that sound delights every corner of my being.

This is not a post about how much I really want to be invited to a party where I can wear my never-been-worn favorite party dress.

This is not a post about how much I still love my hair cut.

This is not a post about how much I miss you.

This is not a post about the quiet moments when doubt sneaks in.

This is not a post about the exquisite taste of fig jam + goat cheese + prosciutto.

No.

This is a post about one family taking a walk in their neighborhood on a Sunday evening and finding the most incredible evidence of a Pacific Northwest Spring along the edges of the sidewalk. Walking, running, naming every color and every shade of every color, telling me which flowers to photograph, and chatting the entire time. 

This is a post about getting back into nature in the simplest ways to clear one's head of all that chatter.

Yes, this.

(These colors inspired several of the new soul mantra necklaces in the shop.)

seeking evidence in a well-lived home

succulents in the family room

Every now and then when I look around my home, I get overwhelmed by what I think other people's expectations are for a home. How neat, how "company ready," how "clean it should be so you can hire a cleaning lady" kind of expectations.

peek at the beginnings of our nature table

Last week, I almost got bogged down in that overwhelm again as I looked at the tall stack of random clean laundry on the dryer, the "never can get it white" grout in between the blue tiles of the kitchen counter, the paper that never finds the right spot to land.

where her shoes land before bath each night

To clear my head, I turned to my camera as a way to seek evidence of how we are really living in this home.

a new jewelry collection in progress

the two Mickeys she insisted Grandma sleep with while she was visiting

bathtime/bathroom time needs

left behind after the last breakfast tea party with grandma

And I kept finding these beautiful pieces of us. The bits of clutter and real that reveal who we are in our beautiful, often messy, lived-in, little home. 

Sometimes you need the close-up lens of the camera to push you back to seeing what you actually know.

a favorite happy bowl

An invitation

Use your camera lens to capture the evidence of a life well lived in your home. Notice the little details beyond the surface. This would be an awesome Project Life prompt (especially if you don't have a lot of photos one week). 

***

In Inner Excavation, there is an entire chapter about what we gather to us. The book invites you to dive deeply into noticing your world, noticing you through self-portraits in photography, poetry, and mixed media.

Order your own copy signed by me here.

backyard autumn

today, the blue sky took ahold of my hand and guided me to this moment...this deep breath...this opening up to the beauty right in front of me.