a new home.

hello,

thank you so much for finding your way to be present, be here. this spot has been a beautiful home for the last (almost) four years. however, with some new projects on the horizon, i have decided to move to a new home that has a bit more room for all that is to come...

i am so blessed to have connected with you in this space for these years, and i hope you will find your way to my new home by visiting: www.lizlamoreux.com.

this new site now houses my blog and the archives for this blog...i hope you will subscribe to this blog's new space, be present, be here, in your feedreader, so that we can continue to stay in touch.

thanks again...

blessings,

liz

now.

playing with the lensbaby composer . pt defiance park . august 22, 2009
i get up.

i breathe in.

i breathe out.

i look myself in the eye.

i choose.

i begin.

yes.

i begin.

home.

lake michigan view (photo by jonny) . august 2009

as i settle slowly back into the routine that is my life, my heart feels somewhat heavy as i wrap my mind around being so far across the country from my family yet again. yet, this is home. here. in washington with the tall tall evergreens and the cool august air and the backyard lavender and the tender sighs of millie. this is home. and i know, in my heart, that this distance is what has invited our time to be sweeter and, perhaps, a bit more open and full of light.ness. yes, the time is indeed sweeter. time with my dad and anne was full of laughter and sunsets and good food and late night miniature golf. time with my mom was short...just a few hours...but we had a delightful brunch and did a bit of shopping, and even though she has been through a bit these last few weeks as she has been the caregiver to her significant other after his sudden heart surgery, she still seemed lighter than i have seen in her in a long time, which made my heart happy.

after we said goodbye to my dad and anne when they dropped us off where we were staying in chicago and then again the next day after we said goodbye to my mom in the middle of water tower place, i turned to jon and leaned again his chest and started crying as i found myself inside feelings that seemed like a mixing bowl full of nostalgia and missing. now, as i settle back in, i realize that what i felt toward the end of this trip that seemed like nostalgia was really love.

in this realization, i find myself standing here, in this spot, in this moment, and i take a breath and find my footing. and i see that i am twirling inside the laughter and the listening and the light and the love and the heart that is open in the midst of it all.

yes, this is me.

know.

south carolina coast long ago.

i want to know this person smiling right at me. i want to hear her laughter as she looks toward someone she loves who has managed to snap this moment of perfect joy.

i want to know her.
this is what i said each time we watched this and came to this photo.
i want to know her, i would say to jon.
and sometimes tears would knock at the back of my eyes as my mind would catch up with my words.

what is she thinking in this moment? who surrounds her? she is not quite two and on the south carolina coast. more than thirty years ago. thirty years. she did not know that more than three decades later she would wish that she had memorized every second of this moment. we never realize how much we will want to remember each sound, touch, breath.

i see hope and a heart open to all that is to come. i see love. i see a little girl who already knows love.

i want to know her.

she is a teacher this one. she is a teacher and those around her on this day know this truth. yes. they do know as they look at her wide open heart taking in each moment, each sound, each touch, each breath. in the quiet places where they are safe being themselves, they know she is here to teach them to open their hearts even if only for one breath. open up, she whispers as the wind blows and she smiles with love on her face.

i want to know her.

i want to reach my hand through this photo and touch that soft cheek and say, please tell me all you know. please tell me what it feels like to love with such a softness, with such hope.

i want to know her.

and the tears tap at the backs of my eyes as my mind catches up with the truth,

and the wisdom within whispers...

finding my way...

cooling off in the evening during the heat of last week . back porch, july 2009

life whirls and breaths and laughs and cracks me open.

yes.
this is where i am.
whirling
breathing
laughing
cracking open

life is full, much fuller than it has been in years. it is full of good things. it is full of things that are, to be honest, work. good work. the work of dreams being lived into reality, but work all the same.

which finds me walking the path labeled balance. finding my way, sitting to rest, and looking up and wondering "how the hell did i get here?" and laughing at myself as i realize i made my way here. to this moment. yes, i did. finding my way and seeking shade and then in the next moment standing in the light with my face turned up as i smile into the truth. finding my way and realizing that asking for help is part of the path labeled balance. finding my way and knowing that collaborating brings the goodness. finding my way and realizing that finding my breath is the way to the path that is balance.

yes. it is good. breathe in. breathe out. open. whirl. laugh. breathe.

how are things in your world? i would love to know...

one foot, then the other.

finding my way . olympic peninsula (april 2009)

To the questions of your life you are the answer, and to the problems of your life you are the solution.

Joe Cordare

(thank you for your kind words on my last post. thank you for getting it and listening and being out there. i am so blessed.)

a post that began one way...and turned into something else entirely.

saturday, jon got me out of the house for a bit. a short trip to point defiance park to get outside into the fresh air. even though we weren't there for very long, it was much needed. hopefully many a summer afternoon will be spent just like this...though maybe with a picnic and a stack of books and a journal or two and fresh markers and how the list goes on...

i am still sick. the weekend was filled with steam showers and lots of hot drinks and frequent use of the inhalers and making my way through season three of the west wing and reading my way through the harry potter series yet again...

and here is where is want to write something wise. i want to write about how i am finding answers in the all this quiet. about how my heart feels open as the sun shines in through the blinds and my mind is so full of ideas that i am dancing my favorite dance inside possibility. but, the truth is, my grandpa died two months ago and i am very sad about it. i am sad that i will never again visit the house where my grandparents lived. i am sad that they aren't going to show up and take me to the beach as the antidote to this illness as they did almost thirty years ago when i had a neverending bout of bronchitis. i am sad that i didn't get to my grandfather's side before he died. i am sad that there seems to be some kind of belief that a person shouldn't grieve deeply for grandparents...that a person should get "over" a death and "move on," especially when the person who died was "old." i would love to write something that might inspire but the truth is my head is throbbing as my brain seems to rattle each time i cough today and i just want to crawl back into bed. but i can't sleep because i keep coughing (not to mention i need to work).

i guess this is why i haven't been showing up here as much as i want to. i am trying so hard to push away the negative as i am on the cusp of a major pity party and i know it. even though there are also some really good things going on in my world that i look forward to sharing on another day, i am on the cusp of giving into the tears. but if i start crying, i won't be able to breathe. i know this is true. for a while now, when a thought comes up about my grandparents, i actually imagine pulling it out of my mind like dumbledore pulls out a memory in the world of harry potter...i imagine pulling it out and putting it into a box. i don't have the energy to grieve. does that make sense? i don't have the energy to give into the need for a good cry. i won't be able to breathe. and, these last two plus weeks have taught me that i really really need to be able to breathe.

(insert deep breath)

thanks for letting me ramble. it feels a bit like i just want someone to know where i am in this moment. so here i am, letting you know. and maybe i will come back tomorrow and let you know again. and the next day. because i think there is some comfort in knowing that someone knows a little piece of where i am.

i am okay. yes, i know this is true. i am okay. this is life. this is what it is. breathe in. breathe out. this is how we become.

(oh and i am behind on emails and returning phone calls and other good stuff. because of the coughing and asthma-like spells i am having, talking on the phone just isn't really possible right now. as much as i would so like to catch up with people on the phone, especially because i spend so much darn time alone, i am mostly trying to just be quiet. my etsy shop is open with a few happy summery necklaces, but i am not making any new soul mantra necklaces or any new fabric items at this time. hopefully soon i will be back in my studio sewing and hammering away. thanks for understanding.)

tell me something really good.

miss maggie may (my dad's cockapoo) . may 2009

i am still in indiana. i came to attend my high school reunion (i had the best time!) and after the reunion ended, my body seemed to give a sigh of relief that it could give into the illness that had been clearly hanging on for a bit.

asthmatic bronchitis. two inhalers. a big dose of antibiotics. trying to sleep in between what seem to be asthma-like attacks. (which, by the way, are more than a bit scary. those of you with asthma know. scary to wake up with no breath available.) this is the second time i have had something like this in six months. hmmm. i am not enjoying this one bit. (and wondering what is up with this second bout.)

was supposed to fly home yesterday but the doctor gave that a no go. hopefully friday. i am not doing all that great in this moment. i wish i was home in my own bed. i miss jonny and millie. but my dad and his girlfriend are being great, as is my mom. i feel loved, even though i feel like crapola. and even if i don't have my favorite sweater i wear when i am sick, i do have one of my dad's to wear, which is almost as good (insert very weak smile here). and even though i don't have millie curled up against my leg, i do have the companionship of the sweet, soft, and silly cockapoo pictured above. maggie. she is some kind of cute. and, in the way that dogs often do, she seems to get i am not feeling well and is staying pretty close to my side.

so, all this leads me to say this: tell me something good about your world. tell me a funny story. what made you happy today? last week? who/what is inspiring you? what are you reading? what flowers are blooming (or what color are the leaves outside your window)?

tell me something really good. i need to soak up the goodness...

(thank you)

today.

i am happiest when my heart stays open
i am hoping to let go of even more clutter
i am reaching farther
i am twirling inside words and possibility
i am walking a path of deep joy and moments of deep sadness
i am finally understanding pieces of why i might be right here
i am being gentle with myself on days when sinking seems tangible
i am taking dance breaks to nourish me
i am realizing connections can take more forms than i thought possible
i am seeking the brave moments
i am honoring the deeply creative minutes
i am nurturing the truth i see
i am embracing this reflection

*****

i am wondering where you are...

wondering what your "i am" statement might be in this moment...

(this post was directly inspired by this self-reflection post by kelly b.)

fear.less

our friends' new puppy sydney . february 2009

On Friday evening, Jon and I spent time with some dear friends and their puppy. It was so refreshing to be around that bundle of energy and to watch the curiosity with which he explored and took in the world around him.

I took several photos of him, and although this one might not be the best in the "true" sense of what the best might mean to some, I love how it captures the fearlessness as he jumped up and put his paws on my knees so he could balance while investigating the camera in front of my face. And although his eyes might almost appear sad to some, what you don't see is the smile that I observed as he tried to figure it out what the heck I was doing with that big thing that made funny noises and flashed.

Our dog, Millie, tends to look at me with a "you've got to be kidding, that thing again; I hate that thing" look on her face when I try to take her photo. Most photos of her I have shared are the best one of lots and lots and lots taken trying to get her to look my way. She hates the camera. There is no need to check out what it is as she seems to feel about it the same way she feels about the vacuum. She is clearly pretty overwhelmed by the vacuum, but because being around her person makes her feel the safest, she experiences a major conundrum during any cleaning around here: how to stay right next to the very source of safety that is moving the very thing she fears toward her.

Writing that, I can't help but look up at her in this moment and say, "I totally get you kid."

It is funny how we stick with what isn't working because it feels safe...because it feels like we are not in control, even though all we would have to do to take control is walk out of the room. But we don't because sometimes it seems easier to just do what we know.

During the last few weeks, I have been honest with myself about a few things that haven't been working. Oh, I guess I have been "honest" in the past, but I hadn't done anything about them. However, something shifted. Something shifted through truth and love in my life.

I have removed the blinders that I have been wearing on and off for a while now. Putting them on each morning had become a habit. I would put them on just after I would get up so that I didn't have to really take in how our house was more mess than home or the nest I so wanted it to be. I would put on the blinders so that I could get through another day spent entirely in this house as I work from here and live here.

The shift of realizing that the amount of energy I was spending in self-loathing about the mess and the blinders and the way they both were hindering many creative dreams I have and that Jon and I have together...in realizing this...momentum began to build. I started to be honest with myself in a new way. This new energy has begun to birth several unexpected shifts.

A sense of fearlessness has taken over...a sense of "why wait?" And a sense of deep understanding that I can do more than I ever thought I could do.

Our home is still a bit messy, but in that lived in sort of way. There are still things that need to be done, but no blinders are needed. I feel a new peace inside me. We are in the process of making our home feel like a nest, a retreat for us and anyone who comes to visit. My studio space, the (new) little room, is beautiful and light-filled. Many creative dreams are hatching in this space...one of which I plan to share tomorrow.

Moving into fearlessness...into light...into possibility with more than just words...
I am moving into fearlessnes, light, and possibility with actions, with beliefs, with confidence, with a deep knowledge of my truth.
Yes.
This is where I am today.

Where are you?

i see her.

i see her.

i see her grounded in her body as she moves across the floor, across the room, with arms twirling above her head. and her hips. those hips that shift and turn and twist to the beat of the song in the air. they twist and turn and she moves. how she moves to the music that seems to be part of her. it is as though she is directly connected to the boom ba boom of the beat of the sound in the air. she is directly connected to the soul of the singer and the rhythm as she moves and twists and twirls. her long hair becomes another extension of the body as her hips circle and her knees bend and her toes point and her arms that once belonged to a ballerina remember what it feels like to stretch as though they reach for the very moment when she first put on the ballet shoes and smiled that four-year-old girl's smile of glee.

i see her and marvel at how she lets go of the need to wonder what others are thinking or how she must look as her size sixteen body sinks inside the boom ba boom. she lets go of what others are thinking as she stretches her arms to either side and finds the rhythm with her fingertips and wrists as her hips rotate and her knees bend and her feet move quickly with purpose. her feet move with a purpose that wraps the entire room in a circle that vibrates with joy.

i see her and marvel.

i see her reflection as she twists and stretches and seems grounded in her body.

i see her and i see me.

i see me.

and i dance on.

full.

i am so full.
i am so full of hope and possibility.

when life is good, even for just a moment, it might seem easy to just rest inside these feelings.

but even in the midst of the stuff that might not be so great...the hard stuff...the heavy lifting that makes up this life. even in the midst of that, i find myself returning to hope and possibility.

i find myself resting inside it with each breath.

i find myself returning to the belief that we are in control of how we walk in this life...if we open our hearts...how we react in any given moment...how we react to others...we choose. we choose.

and through hope and possibility, i choose the light.

(just wanted to peek in and say hi and share these thoughts i am having as i get ready to go to bed early to continue to catch up on sleep. i'll be back in the morning with more to share. oh and just know that i might keep sharing these oregon coast photos for the next few weeks. the lighting one night last week was simply perfection and i can't get over the joys of using my 50mm lens at the beach...in that lighting. hope you don't mind.)

tonight. a memory. and december views.

view of me this evening...this whole week really but with rotating sets of flannel pajamas

so this chest cold is really taking it out of me...
i have spent the last four days in my pajamas. i have been working my day job (thank goodness i do that one from home) and taking naps and drinking many many mugs of tea. but mostly i am grumpy and achey and am now losing my voice.

thank you so much for your tea recipes. i now have the ingredients for the ginger/honey/lemon tea and will be making it tomorrow. adding honey to my tea is soothing my throat. (thank goodness for a dear husband who goes to the store for me.)

and thank you so much for your orders from the shop...i deeply appreciate it and love that so many people are buying a few handmade gifts this year.

the collecting sea glass at ruby beach scarf

i did want to share one little thing with you that has been making me smile. i took some photos of the scarves on betty drawn across her like a sash (as you can see in the above photo). i wanted people to be able to see more of the patchwork. but every time i see one of these photos, i immediately start singing this song. i can't help myself. i don't even realize i am singing it (i sing in my head all the time...does anyone else do that?) until i find myself trying to remember the line of dialogue that comes after, "what is it katie nana?" somewhere there is a tape of mary poppins that my dad taped off the TV. you know the kind. the ones where he tried not to tape the commercials because we had no VCR remotes then so you would have to get up to fast forward through them if you taped them. so the picture on the screen jumps a bit signaling where the commercial began and ended. sometimes we missed a few seconds of the next scene. sometimes there was the last bit of a commercial. love it. i watched it over and over and over as a kid. i remember one day realizing, "no way. that is totally dick van dyke" playing that older man at the bank in one of the last scenes. love dick van dyke. i wanted him to be my friend when i was a kid. and i so wanted to dance with those penguins. and laugh my way up to the ceiling...oh how the list goes on.

okay...one more mug of tea and then i am going to bed.

tell me what is going on in your world...

believing on the last day of november.

I started to write a post about what I can't believe…how I can't believe that it is the end of November and I have written a post every single day…how I can't believe I have completed something I set out to do…

I started to write about what I can't believe.
But the thing is, I can believe it.

I can believe
that I posted every day in November.
that I found words to share in this space that feels like another type of home for me.
that the holidays are here and another year has almost passed as each year does as a life is lived.
in the stirrings of hope and possibility this month has given me.
in the connection of friendships found in this space, in this other type of home.
in the encircling of friends who see me.
that sharing pieces of the guts of my experience is one of the reasons I am here.

So I hope to post almost every day in December because posting every single day this month has reminded me of my early days of blogging when thinking things like "oh! I can blog this!" was a new sort of inner dialogue and I found great joy in coming to the empty screen and putting down the whispers that are inside me…

I will be embarking on December Views with Dar and a few other delightful souls (more information here) and sharing these whispers through images.

But while I look forward to sinking into the silence that comes with sharing images next month, I also want to sink into the sounds of this time of year…at least the sounds of my world. I plan to share a favorite holiday tune each day through Christmas Day because…well, because the soundtrack of the holidays is very much part of the soundtrack of my life and I want to share because it simply makes me so happy.

I also plan to share a gift ideas list (or two) as I have come across so many wondrous simple things as we attempt to buy handmade yet again this year. I had hoped to do that during the wordiness that was November but I guess other things needed to be shared. I will also let you know when I update the shop with scarves, patchwork aprons, and some other fun holiday-inspired creations. I am planning an update Monday, December 8th after my only holiday show, Urban Craft Uprising, next weekend (in Seattle at the Seattle Center on Saturday and Sunday; hope to see you there!!). However, if you see anything float across my flickr page this week that catches your eye, just send me an email.

Mostly though, I plan to be quiet in December while sharing little peeks into my world through images.

Blessings to you…and thank you so very much for visiting my little corner and staying for a bit.

saying yes

some outtakes from a two girls, two clicks photo shoot

(i chose this one)

saying yes

to laughter

to letting it go

to embracing the inner silly

to knowing i am loved

to holding onto my circle of kindred spirits

to balance

to pigtails

to keeping the doctor away

to someone else cooking the turkey

to listening more

to remembering the laughter of those i love

to help

to chocolate + chocolate mint ice cream

to curling up under the quilts

to orange+green

to rereading the divine secrets

to hope

to brainstorming

to love

to seeing the beauty

to trust

to seeking peace within

to praying for peace everywhere

how about you?

*****

in honor of the holiday weekend in the u.s. (and that crazy friday shopping day), from now until sunday night i am offering free shipping in the shop for readers of my blog (and anyone they tell). just note, "hey liz, i would love free shipping" or something similar in the notes to seller when you check out and pay through paypal, i will then reimburse you the shipping. this applies to custom necklace orders and international shipping too!

november 17.

backyard maple, november 2008

tonight, i am feeling so toasty warm after a hot, hot shower and am nestled in my flannel pajamas, my hair wrapped in one of our new seaglass green towels. the air is tinged with the pleasant cloud of patchouli incense and millie has curled up near me after hearing the sounds of jonny getting ready for bed and realizing it is that time in the evening where she and i stay up a bit later. i am feeling just a slight wish for snow this evening, though it seldom falls here. i wish that we might wake up tomorrow to six inches and a snow day and time to just be together. though, at the same time, i am enjoying each shade of autumn that i see during the day outside my window. having only one car right now means i am taking jonny to school and getting out of the house during the early morning when the fog is still heavy and the sun is trying to smile. it is nice to get out of the house as i spend so much of it here, in this spot on this purple couch where i edit and blog and read and sew and how the list goes on. yes, it is nice to get out and see the reds and yellows and bits of green as they puddle onto the ground beneath wise oaks and standing tall maples amidst all those ever, ever green trees.

live it baby girl

in jen's kitchen, 11.9.08

sometimes you have that moment...
someone holds up a mirror
and you see you
with an open heart
you see yourself
with your heart wide open
and you own it
you
you own it
who you are
who you want to be
the path behind you
and the possibility
that simply sits before you
(it. is. there.)

this
this is a gift

see it

and live

november 2

i crave...

a little cottage on the ocean where i could spend my days creating and writing and working and playing with the windows wide open to the sound of the push and pull of water and sand and time.

an evening spent with my head on jon's chest as we talk about our wildest dreams for our future and i listen to his heart beat with each rise and fall of breath.

sitting at a kitchen table on gerow avenue with the smell of sausage and the taste of cranberry juice and the feel of the brown faceted heavy juice glass and the sight of the jelly jar filled with violets and the sound of her voice as she talks to herself at the stove.

a conversation with my brother where we really listen to one another and show up as our true selves instead of showing up as the roles we think we are supposed to play because of the path behind us.

blueberry pancakes and fresh orange juice and the sunday paper spread across the kitchen table as i sit cross-legged and just take in a day with nothing else to do.

being surrounded by laughter until my sides and the muscles in my face hurt and just for a moment i am convinced that all must be right in the world.

feeling at peace in my own home instead of feeling like i am drowning in my created mess.

stepping off a plane in paris and setting off just like natasha to explore and eat and drink and dream and take in every drop before being so very glad to get home.

an afternoon with my mother, just the two of us, with no phone calls answered or email that need to be checked or people that need us to solve something...just the two of us.

(this prompt is from sabrina ward harrison's book the true and the questions. michelle mentioned it recently, which prompted me to take it out again.)

i see...

there is so much about this photo that i love. i love the way this little girl's hand is resting on her ankle, like she has just paused to take a breath. i love the way those little legs can bend. an early yoga pose. of course, i have to love that messy face and that a person who loved her decided to capture that mess instead of insisting on clean and perfect. i love the joy on that messy face. i love those spice jars hanging. i can see them in my mind in two other kitchens and wish i had them now as they would be perfectly filled with vintage buttons and arranged by color. i love that wallpaper and can close my eyes and feel the texture of it on my fingertips and i can see those pretty hideous fabric window coverings in the breakfast nook attached to the kitchen. i love that piece of wood to the right of the girl as it is the frame of the magic pass-through window between the kitchen and the family room of this most favorite home.

i can close my eyes and see almost every nook of that most beloved childhood home of this little girl...this little girl who was me...who is me...who is a part of me. this little girl who is inside me. this little girl who whispers to me. i can see the closet under the stairs where we kept the bright-orange cushions for the furniture on the screened-in porch. i can see the black and white nubby fabric-covered couch directly across from the fireplace. i can see the stockings made by my grandmother, my father's mother, hanging. i can see the window seat built-in bench next to the fireplace and i can feel it as i lift it open to peek inside. i can see the built-in bookshelves lined with books. and i can see the one short shelf with the parenting books that i would insist i needed to read when faye, my first cabbage patch kid, arrived for christmas. i can see the all white very small living room with the tiny blue leather couch and the tableclothed round table that was really made of cardboard that i accidentally left in the basement of my last apartment in indiana. i can peek across the entryway and see the dining room with the navy blue with a peek of red wallpaper and matching curtains. i can see family around the dining room table and can look down to see a fancy red perfect for the holidays dress and black patent leather shoes with a bow. i turn and see a little boy wearing fuzzy green pajamas sitting on the stairs and going up one step at a time while facing forward and chattering away. i see the landing outside a bedroom with blue carpet and blue flowered wallpaper. i see the tall bed with the old iron bedframe and the fuschia fabric heart that hangs from the bed post. i see the wooden sign that says the little girl's name and has a slightly crooked z. i see the white shelves that hold the dolls i received every birthday and christmas. i want to rearrange them again; pairing them off by best friends or by couple or by color. i see the ice skating girl's blue velvet dress and fluffy white muff and the ice skating boy with matching clothes. i want a little girl who will arrange those dolls in her blue room. i smell the fresh pink and white flowered sheets on the bed that will one day keep traveler warm as i sit outside with him on a february day, on his last day, when i can't get him to come back inside and i sing to him and read to him as i wait for jonny to get home so we can take him to the vet. i see the ballerina pillowcase that i still use because it takes me back to this room, this most favorite of rooms. i see a hope chest that i am not really supposed to open but that i sometimes peek inside just for a moment as i want to always be good but also want to always know. i never touch anything. i just want to peek. i close my eyes and i can see the other rooms. i see the little tiny sewing room with the funny closet that had stairs. i see the little boy's room filled with toys. i see the guest room with the wallpaper that had hidden animals i would see when i had pnemonia and stayed in that room so my parents could hear me in the middle of the night. i see the door to the attic that housed a little girl's perfect playroom. and i hear the voices. the voices of a young family learning together and doing the best that they can. i hear those voices and the sounds of a home. i hear my grandparent's car pull into the driveway and i see myself run to open the garage door and then jump the steps down to the garage floor and duck under the door as it opens so that i can be the first to hug her. i see the sandbox and the rhodedendrins in bloom and the bird feeders and the three fir trees and the small bit of woods and i wish, i wish in this moment, i wish i could be there, right there, back inside that home...hearing those voices...and feeling my heart burst with love.

one little (huge. power-full. sacred.) word

(new soul mantra pendant in the shop)

it is a powerful exercise, thinking about what you might want to say yes to in your life.

many years ago, sark introduced me to the juicy-ness of the word yes.

in my college apartment, i had big sheets of white paper on the wall behind my bed. i remember deciding to put that paper up after reading one of sark's earlier books.* and inspired by her, i wrote yes in crayon on that wall and looked at it every day. i remember feeling like if i just said yes to one thing just for me each day, life was going to be okay.

i hadn't thought about that in a long time...about that wall i would write on and how i would hold onto that word. and then sometime this year, i started noticing maddie's sunday posts were all about how she was saying yes in her life.

and i remembered the wide, real power of this simple, petite word.

inspired by maddie and sark, i am bringing this word back into my life.

and tonight, i am
saying
yes
to

living this life with a wide heart
inviting in peace
letting go just a bit more
orange polka-dotted knee socks
cooking dinner
staying out way past my bedtime
naps
being an informed voter
a gigantic slightly off-kilter pumpkin
a poetry reading in the bathtub
taking a chance
a little johnny cash and friends
laughing until tears spring into my eyes
speaking the truth of my experience
holding onto love
drinking mugs of hot fruity tea
believing in all that might be

is there something you might want to say yes to today?

*i tried to find the page in sark's book (creative companion, inspiration sandwich, or living juicy) that inspired me to write yes on my bedroom wall so many years ago. i couldn't find the page, but i found all these little pieces of paper stuck throughout the pages of living juicy. notes on an index card from a psychology class, on the back of a note from my dad, on the back of a winnie the pooh day-by-day calendar page, on spiral notebook paper. the notes were all taken while listening to sark's inspiration line. tonight, i close my eyes and i can see that lonely, hungry-for-understanding, sad college girl in her little apartment with her roommate, daniel the cat, curled up beside her. she is sitting on her bed with the antique wrought-iron bed frame. she is wearing a flannel shirt and overalls. and she is wishing someone would see her. and she dials the phone and hears that magic laughter and kind voice** of a person who seems to see her. and this voice shares wisdom with words like, "take giant leaps of faith even when it is dark out" and "drench yourself in self-kindness." and she talks about "radical self-acceptance" and shares quotes and books suggestions...and the girl writes it all down, as much as she can. and when the message ends and she hears the beep, the girls sometimes just says, "thank you" through tears. other times she is too embarrassed and doesn't know what to say, so she just gently hangs up. and some nights she goes to barnes and noble with the notes from inspiration line and book list from one of the pages of living juicy and she starts collecting wisdom and truth and invitations to live in the form of books to place on her white bookshelves in her apartment. some nights, as she reads the pages of these books, she begins to say yes to the hope that maybe she isn't as alone as she thinks she is.

**hear this voice by visiting sark's online journal