the beauty of real

Words from March 17: Today was a little girl home from school and pink eye and cancelled meetings and cuddles and movies and working in tiny slivers of time and a very sweet pediatrician and bangs that made me happy and cherry tree blooms moving on to unfurling green and chocolate chip cookies and taxes and paperwork and several "holy cats!" moments of adulting and more complaining than I'd like to do and a list of joy made in my head and a list of real made right here while I tried not to burn the hamburgers on this gorgeous night where the light is luminous and I'm feeling gratitude for the inbetween moments that bring me back home.

Sometimes you have to snap a photo and pair it with pieces of the true stories that make up a day. Use the prompt "today" and just start writing down every word.

There is so much beauty in telling the true, real stories. 

(Imagine a journal filled with images + words. Now imagine reading your grandmother's journal like this. Or even a stranger's. I think of that song "Virginia Woolf" by the Indigo Girls and the idea that someone else's journal can become a letter to your soul. Yes. Yes. Yes. And writing it out, taking self-portraits, telling the true stories is like writing a love letter to your own soul. For real. Love that image. Love it.)

it is time.

Maybe you're in a space where the longing feels thick. Where the stuff that makes up each day is piling. Where the roles you're playing are pulling you in several directions and you secretly wish you could just step away for awhile.

Or maybe you're in a season where others need you. A lot. And you know you need to create space for you and you simply don't know where to begin.

Or perhaps you've lost the connection with the creative soul inside you - the soul who wanted to write more, take more photos, play with paint and color, or even just cook like she used to. 

If pieces of these stories sound familiar, I invite you to come along to Water Your Mama Soul.

The practices you'll explore and conversations we'll have during this 10-day class will begin to create the foundation you need to tell your story - to live your way into the longings while seeing and feeling the beauty of your everyday life.

Because we can hold two things at once: The longings in one hand and the beauty of our everyday life in the other. The joy of living this crazy, awesome life in one hand and the grief that life hands you in the other.

We can hold all the things.

And we can find our way to feeling grounded and like our true selves in the midst of all these feelings and experiences.

I really believe that.

There's this bridge I keep talking about - this bridge that takes us from our daily to our longings. And no matter the longings, this bridge is really between daily life and more "really good days."

Think about that for a moment. Each day, you're building a bridge to more really good days.

That kind of sounds delicious and not impossible.

But honey, before you build that bridge between today and your longings, you've got to have a foundation to hold it up.

The practices in Water Your Mama Soul will be your foundation. They will help you begin to tell your story so you can name those longings and decide which ones you want to claim as your path.

Come along. This powerful online class is just $25. We begin as a group September 14.

Register right here.

i let myself begin again.

(practice heart talisman in the shop)

Last week over on Instagram, I paired the above photo with these words:

What does your practice look like today? How are you deeply connecting to the hum of wisdom and love within you? :: This week I've been skipping my morning practice more than I'd like. I'm just letting the day get full from the start. It's been an upside down week. Not all bad. In fact, lots of good. But my rush to get it done, to fix, to figure out has sometimes pushed through the practice. So right here, right now, I let myself begin again. Yes.

This morning, I'm reminding myself of these words, "I let myself begin again."

What do you need to "begin again" today? 

Here's one of the keys to this idea, at least for me: It invites you to set down the shame.

Though my work in the world is to invite others to feel like they are enough just as they are, I'm not immune to trying to carry shame around in my pockets. When it comes to my morning practice, the shame swirls into phrases like, "You're supposed to meditate every day. You know it's good for you. Why can't you even do this one simple thing for five minutes? How can you teach others if you don't do this? Why are you avoiding the one thing that keeps you centered? Oh and you're avoiding your teacher too. Perfect. That's totally the way to go. Fine, just go ahead and go online instead of connecting with what you need." And on and on and on into thoughts I don't even want to type here in this space.

But as Brene Brown says, "Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change."

When I stick to my shame or perhaps let it stick to me, I can't get back to my practice. I can't get back to building that bridge between daily life and the life I long for. I just look at the metaphorical building supplies and go get a piece of cheese and then a Nora Roberts novel or scroll through Facebook.

However, when I greet the shame like, "Oh yes. I know you. Actually I have some really good stuff to get to today," then I get to walk through it to the other side. I can't ignore it because then I'm just stuffing it and it will sit waiting for another day, but I can choose not to let it drive my life.

I can make the choice to begin again. 

Right now, think about one way you can begin again today. Just one. 

Write it down. Or even share it with me here in the comments. Or send me an email. I really want you to know you're not alone over there as you walk this path honey. You. Are. Not. Alone. We'll keep beginning again together.

Big love,

Liz

*****

This is an excerpt from the newsletter I sent out today. If you'd like to join my circle of kindreds and have these kinds of conversations with me on an (almost) weekly basis, sign up right here. 

a morning ritual (how to smudge)

They walk out the door in a rush, in a flurry of "Please hurry and brush your teeth. You're going to be late. Daddy is waiting."

Some mornings I head to the kitchen window and watch them walk down the twisty steps, him carrying all the things, her chatting and chatting as she gets distracted by the colors of the sky or a tiny insect or the lines the fog makes against the trees.

Other mornings I sink to my knees in the living room and put my hands on the floor, stretching my back into chakravakasana. Breathing. Being. Coming home to me.

And then there are the mornings I plant myself on the red couch and dive right into emails and analytics and holding my heart out in my hand in a virtual invitation.

Lately, I've been adding in a simple clearing ritual to bring me back to center. Some days it's my practice. Other days it closes my longer practice. Always it feels like a prayer.

I stand at our often dusty sprawling family altar and begin to chat to Ganesh. As the words swirl in our little house, as Millie snores in her spot on the rug behind me, I light the sage. Watching the smoke begin to swirl, my voice gets louder. I gently move my hand, enveloping the smoke, and let it encircle me.

And then I begin to walk. Chanting. Clearing the space with my voice, with the sage. 

It's a whisper. It's a roar. It's one woman in her little home asking all that is greater than her to support her in this day, to clear space for all that is to come, to clasp us gently in its grasp.

Yes. 

*****

How to Smudge

If you're new to working with sage or smudging, here are some simply steps to follow. I've included some links to supplies as well:

1. Light your bundle or smudge stick until it flames. It will usually burn out and begin to smoke. If needed, you can blow out the flame, but it should still be smoking. This smoke is what you'll use to smudge.

2. Smudge yourself by wafting the smoke toward you, getting your whole body and then step through the smoke. You can use your hand or a feather or feather wand. If you're smudging another person, make sure they turn around so you smudge both their front and back.

3. If you're smudging a space or your home, begin to walk around slowly, wafting the smoke into the space, being sure to direct it in all four directions in each room. Some traditions say you should walk around your space or home in a clockwise manner. As you're walking, be sure to also carry a small bowl or an abalone shell to catch any ashes. (Lately, I've been using my favorite heart bowls.)

4. As you're walking, think positive thoughts, even say a prayer, or sing or chant. The intention is to invite in what you most want to come into this space. You might even want to write a blessing that you say in each room (or to each person if you're smudging yourself and others).

5. When you're done, remember to gently put out the smoking smudge stick/wand. Do this by pressing it into your abalone shell or a fire-proof ceramic bowl. You'll want to make sure that it is no longer smoking and then leave it in the shell or bowl for a while.

Resources:

There are so many great sources for sage and other smudge sticks on Etsy. You can often find it at Whole Foods and other natural food shops too. Moorea Seal (one of my favorite Seattle shops/sites) also carries some sage and other good things. The sage wand in the photo is from the wondrous Jennette Nielsen.

Using sage is something I first learned about from my teacher Laura Yon. She also taught me the Ganesha chant I sing daily (if you'd like to listen to it and learn it, here's a short audio of me chanting). Additionally, Pixie Lighthorse's teachings have invited me to deepen my experience with the smudging practice.

As always, if you have questions, share them in the comments.

With love and light,
Liz 

All photos by Lauren Oliver Photography

get outside

It's that time of year where we begin to hover between winter and spring over here in my corner. Some days the rain just falls and falls and the grey can really start to get to you. 

But then the sun will appear. 

But then you'll notice the crocuses about ready to bloom.

But then you'll notice the tulips are starting to push upward.

And suddenly that fierce belief that spring will return appears again.

I've learned though that the only way I can stay connected to that belief is by getting outside.

You have to do the practice.

You can't just talk about how you're getting back to your practice if you dive right into email first thing in the morning and don't stop multi-tasking until you fall asleep just after checking email one more time.

You have to do the practice.

You can't just write articles about why people should start practicing self-care and mindfulness.

You have to do the practice.

You can't wonder why you feel so full of all the stuff that swirls around you when you know the very remedy that would help you feel connected to all that you believe in.

You have to do the practice.

So I stood outside breathing in my own backyard as someone used a jackhammer down the street (yes, a jackhammer on a Monday) and the cars whizzed by on the highway in the distance and the hummingbird chirped down at me from the plum tree and Millie the wonder dog sniffed in circles and the cherry trees preened under the sun's warmth and I realized I hadn't yet brushed my teeth and I started counting all the shades of blue in the sky and then I started counting my own heartbeats...

and I pushed aside the lists and the changes to come and the dream that won't stop tapping me on the forehead and the emails I need to answer and the realization that if I don't get in the shower soon I'm going to be that mom at the Valentine's Craft Fair who works from home and sometimes doesn't remember to shower...

and I stood outside and took five deep breaths and then five more. Just being right here. Noticing. Creating space within. Letting it all just be for a few minutes. Uncovering that connection to all that is greater than me for just seconds at a time.

You have to do the practice.

Yes, honey, I'm talking to you.

what's next

Over here, I'm in that space of figuring out how I want this year to unfold, especially for my business. Deciding "what's next." Getting things down on paper, onto the calendar, so I can get them out into the world to you.

And here's the truth: I wish it was easier. Part of me just wishes someone would come along and tell me what to do.

I'd love to know exactly when to hold my retreats and how to fill them and where they should be.

I'd love to know if I should turn One Move into an ecourse or an online group coaching program or a book.

I'd love to know if my one really good idea I've been holding onto for almost two years is one I should really, finally do.

I'd love to know if my idea to hold very small retreats here in Tacoma is one people would respond to.

I'd love to know if I should look for a studio outside my house, if I should live into reality that dream of a space where women could gather.

I'd love to know if I should expand the Soul Mantras products I offer or pare them down.

There is so much I'd love to know...

But I can't know. I can't predict. I can't see the future. And spinning in all that wishing never helps.

What I can do: I can listen to the wisdom within me and listen to my gut and make a choice and go with it.

There's that saying about a dream being a goal without a deadline. And there's also that truth about how brainstorming and dreaming can be a lot more fun than actually getting to work on a project - brainstorming is a place where I can get stuck because it is so juicy and interesting and fun. Combine that with almost everything I put into the world being some form of me holding my heart in my hand and saying, "Would you like a piece of this?" and I can start to slip into what my mom calls analysis paralysis. 

And then all I want to do is read romance novels and watch shows on Netflix because doesn't Nora Roberts have a new book out and shouldn't I probably rewatch all seven seasons of The West Wing so I can pretend I'll be voting for Jed Bartlett later this year...

But here's what I'm making the choice to do instead:

First, I'm writing these words to you, mostly so I feel less alone in it and to hold myself accountable too I suppose.

Second, I'm putting big pieces of white paper up on the wall and taking out my idea notebook writing down a few lists like: All the ideas. What my heart most wants to share. What people write me about the most - or seem to respond to the most. The boundaries and self-care parameters that my family and I need. 

And I'm asking myself some questions: What ideas have the most "heat" for me? How could this year feel gentle? How can there be more time for living the life I write about? 

(The photo above is the last time I did this when I dove deep into my business about 8 months ago.)

Third, I'm sitting in meditation. I'm listening. I'm trying to stop that inner chatter to create space for peace, even for just five minutes at a time.

Fourth, I'm calling on my guides. From dear friends I trust to a circle that's been forming inside (and around me) during meditation to writing letters in my journal to Mister Rogers (yes, that one). I'm calling on my guides, and I'm listening. 

Fifth, I'm making a commitment to get outside this week. To get out of my head and back into my heart by spending time with the birds and the water and the starting to peek up crocuses. 

Going back in to figure out where to go - this is how I find my way. This is how I figure out what's next. 

There's so much I want to say about all of it - about the way 2014 unfolded into 2015 and how last year was in many ways about rebuilding combined with big growth but how I somewhat feel like I'm still staring at a set of Lincoln logs wondering what to make. 

I suppose there are seasons for knowing and there are seasons for building and there are seasons for really getting quiet to find your way. And perhaps I'm in a season where those all happen at once in their different ways. So my task is to keep going in so I can move from a place of centered knowing even when I don't really know. 

Deep breath.

And the juicy part is that once I get through this part (which is so often easier than it seems like it will be - it already feels easier after getting all of this down on the page - you just have to start), then I get to dive into using my own "One Move" steps to make it all happen. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Thanks for coming along beside me. I'm so grateful you're here.

i'm thinking about...

I'm thinking about the way rest is so often something we avoid, but something we deeply need.

I'm thinking about how sudden blue sky lifts my spirits and reminds me to always create space for hope.

I'm thinking about the seasons of so many words and the seasons where the words swirl inside me but can't find their way to the page.

I'm thinking about how delicious a really good cup of coffee tastes.

I'm thinking about how grateful I am to be able to do the work I do.

I'm thinking about how I can continue to let this year be more gentle every. single. day.

I'm thinking about how to set down the rules and the shoulds and the invitations to have things be a certain way and just live. really, really live.

I'm thinking about the fragility of life.

I'm thinking about the sound of Eleanor's giggles and how her hand feels when she reaches for mine and grasps tightly as we walk together.

I'm thinking about the moments of uncertainty and wishing it was easier.

I'm thinking about what it would feel like to pause even more before I speak.

I'm thinking about the way Puget Sound laps against the rocks and wondering why I don't stand beside it more often.

I'm thinking about how to create more space for friendships and hugs and girls' nights and date nights.

I'm thinking about the warrior me, the magician me, the ninja me, the gentle me, the sacred me, the woman finding her way and reaching out her hand to you me.

I'm thinking about creating with paper and photos and color and how it feeds me and how I must commit to more of it this year. (Join me?)

(photo is a peek of the Alchemy Deck I'm creating in Mindy's current class.)

words and talismans

For the last three weeks, my assistant Bonnie and I have been busy every weekday in the studio hammering and packaging and singing along with Mumford and Sons and Adele and soaking up all the stories that arrive with the word of the year orders.

This year it's been all about the hearts. 

The pocket talismans I create are one of my favorite things because they invite you into the mindfulness of having a mantra or word that guides you. You can hold them in your hand, put them next to your bed, place them on an altar, and even have them at your desk at work.

They become a tangible connection to your word.

And they've become one of the most popular items I've ever created.

This. Makes. Me. So. Happy.

You can find the customizable talismans here and the other phrases I carry regularly right here.

I hope your 2016 is continuing to unfold with light and love.

Yes. Yes. Yes.