correspondere

february 28, 2010

2010-02-28T11:38:00.001-08:00

dear jen,

the sun shines in through the window as i sit here thinking about an adventure i would like to take on this blue sky day. we just hung up after chatting about our next time together and i know i am so blessed to have you as a friend.

in this moment, i am so grateful:

for the sound of millie sighing content in her bed

for the whispered truths between friends who trust

for the hope of all that stands before me

for the photo i have of last year's crocuses because some little creature ate all of this year's before they bloomed

that love does really heal us

for a big glass of freshly made navel orange+blood orange+grapefruit juice

for laughter

i hope you soak up every minute of this day.

blessings,

liz

Where oh Where?

2010-02-06T13:20:00.000-08:00

My dear Liz~

I love to walk down the street just as the sun is going down and sneak a peek into the front window of another persons home. It makes me feel warm inside, cozy. I also love to imagine my friends at home, their space, what they are doing. I see you there snuggled on the couch with Millie close, baby swimming in your belly. You there, writing. I love this image. I feel closer to you. I am there, we are having tea, we are laughing, we are dreaming.

december 5, 2009

2009-12-06T09:28:00.000-08:00

i am wishing for snow today. and time to read poetry.

perhaps a fire in the fireplace and "wintersong" playing softly in the background.

yes. in this moment, i am wishing for tea and a perfect muffin.

for an invitation to play and a whispered dream to arrive on the wind.

i am wishing for continued energy as i lean in toward self-care.

for words to wind there way to the page (upon page)

and that your heart feels magic and joy today.

today, in this moment, i wish

i wish.

and yes my friend, yes, i think about the little one inside me growing, stretching to find its way to here. it seems impossible and perfect at the same time. thank you for listening as i find my way too.

love and light,

liz

rest

2009-12-04T18:07:00.000-08:00

as rain falls, i think of you. full moon, now grows smaller, piano echos in the distance. isn't it beautiful to think that a being is growing inside of you? your most beautiful creation yet.

i wonder if you are getting good rest, how the book is coming and what you did today?

i ate french fries, made things, took a bath in incredible essential oils and feel ready to snuggle in for the night. cup if tea calls. xoxo

november 23, 2009

2009-11-23T21:21:00.000-08:00

dear jen,

in this moment i am remembering the sounds of our day together this summer as we shared stories and ate pizza and drank water from a jar.

missing you. hoping the sun is shining inside you.

blessings,

liz

november 8, 2009

2009-11-08T12:49:00.001-08:00

PS go visit this blog and read this post. (oh my goodness.)

postcard from the mandolin cafe (november 6, 2009)

2009-11-06T11:32:00.000-08:00

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dear jen,
a day of writing, dreaming, tea drinking, whispering, laughing, poetry reading, painting, hoping, giggling...
yes.
this would be perfection.

wish you were here.

love,
liz

wonderings and discoveries~

2009-10-26T17:28:00.000-07:00

Hi dear one. I suppose by now you have gotten messy and created? i wonder what happened in your discovery...how you feel about what you made? I love those times when what you envision suddenly spills out in the way you hoped. It seems the vision is not what is often reflected, but something more or less. Both of which are beautiful.

I have discovered many things this weekend. Many worth sharing in person. What I will share here though, I feel more at peace and more in touch with my heart...which wants to love and love big~

sending you my love on this day of rain.

october 21, 2009

2009-10-21T09:57:00.001-07:00

dear jen,

in this moment, i want to get messy. i want to put this laptop, this work, to the side and gather the paints and papers and glue and brushes and just create. i haven't had this stirring in a long time. i haven't had these whispers of "yes, do it. right now." in a long time. and i am so thankful for the gentle, firm teachings of my friend kelly rae that has awakened this in me again.

now, i am left to wonder if i will listen to the insistent whispers or if instead i will simply do what i am "supposed" to do. the clock ticks on the wall and i try to figure out a way to do everything my heart wants (needs).

miss you so much...
wondering what you are up to in this moment...

blessings and light,
liz

rivers and long roads ahead

2009-10-12T22:27:00.000-07:00

dearest liz,

tonight i am reflective. i have learned so much in these last few weeks. i have failed. cried. gained clarity. dusted myself off and began again. i think you have been walking a similar road. and so, i wanted to send you a note for your next journey, a very big journey indeed. an unfolding of your dream. dive in my friend.....feel me holding your hand. feel yourself rooted. sending you my love. ~j

today

2009-09-28T22:42:00.000-07:00

dear liz,

it seems today that the only thing i can do to prevent my head from exploding from too much work and worry is to just simply SLOW DOWN.

i realized recently that everything i love best involves a certain slowness. so i am watching carefully to see if i can get any inspiration.....miss you~

september 24, 2009

2009-09-24T18:49:00.000-07:00

dear jen,
tonight, i am curled up on the couch looking through my photos from my adventures in new hampshire and i want to share this one with you. in this moment, as i drink tea and breathe in the scent of an autumn candle, i look at this photo and find my mind drifting to this:

i want to slip into the water
i want to take one step forward and find myself slipping in
i want to find a balance of movement and stillness
but instead i pause
and i look
and i take a breath
and wish my courage could quiet my thoughts

maybe, some day soon, maybe we can find our way to a pier and glass-like water and i will rest inside my courage and slip in. yes, let's plan to do this. until then though, until then, when i need to, i will look at this photo and allow myself to imagine a balance of movement and stillness. and i will whisper reminders to myself about how my courage is greater and more beautiful than i ever imagined.

thank you for reminding me to be me...

blessings,
liz

Postcard from Manzanita~

2009-09-21T21:52:00.000-07:00

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back~

hello dear liz,

this morning i walked on the beach. capturing light, shadow. the sunshine stung my eyes, but it's sting felt good, it made me glow inside. i thought of you.

we walked early with our tea and coffee. speaking of where one can find inspiration.

it is true, every time i visit the ocean i do not want to return home. i want to sneak into a cabin along the oceanside and set up a place to write, an easel and a little garden. then i will call you to visit. how was your most recent journey?

warm hugs~ j

september 12, 2009

2009-09-12T22:40:00.000-07:00

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dear jen,

this quote sang its way into my world this evening....

But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

-Dinah Craik

(thank you)

love,

liz

PS i'll be gone next week, but i will try to send more postcards...

if

2009-09-09T21:22:00.000-07:00

dear liz,

so many projects fill my brain today. so, i pause to read...

" The soul comes everyday at dawn..good to see you again..."---Rumi

i imagine the soul appearing in front of me, maybe handing me a cup of tea. my insides become calm and warm, i settle in to listen and am enveloped in golden threads. glowing. what would the soul say if it came to visit? but wait, it is here. now. can i be still long enough to hear it? i wonder what do other's do to hear it? what do you do my friend? is it like the last letter you wrote, you drop into yourself and breathe there? sink?

i bought bracelets like yours the other day. when they jangle loudly i think of the one you almost lost that i chased around in the street. we laughed so much that day. i love to think of it now.

tonight, i imagine you typing from afar, conjuring up another list of amazing ideas. dreaming. perhaps a tiny box with a poem, a tree wrapped with lace and a self portrait image that won't leave you alone? or wait is this my dream? tell, me what are you dreaming up these days....or is it a secret?

i miss you.

love, jen

september 7, 2009

2009-09-07T21:58:00.000-07:00

dear jen,

if you knocked on my front door right now, we would have tea, yes tea, and a cupcake just like the one on the photo enclosed. wouldn't that be perfect? we could unpack any worries on our hearts and find our way to laughter. i can just see us. in a bit, you could set up your jewelry and twist and wrap wire into beauty with your hair all up in that orange scarf while i curl into the corner chair with my mac and the patchwork quilt (the one with squares and light blue back? yes, you know the one) and my fingers would fly across the keyboard as i pull the thoughts from the air and turn them into words on a white screen. oh i haven't said thank you for pushing me (ever so gently but firmly) to watch elizabeth gilbert's talk. i can't stop thinking about it actually. how the words are rushing toward the poet and she must run run run to get her notebook to write them down before they push right through her and set off to find another poet. the tears came with that image. elizabeth gilbert just sounds so firmly grounded in her beliefs. how i need to surround myself with people who feel that ground beneath them. yes. add this to my list of how i want to live. (please remind me when i forget.)

the house is quiet in this moment. jon has gone to bed and millie is cuddled up in her bed here in the living room. the only sound is the native american flute music i have on that seems to be entering my pores to find space within each exhale to then float around inside me. listening, i feel my first chakra drop deep through to the ground below this house through the soil, rocks, silt until it wraps around the core of all we know and grips hold. with each exhale, i feel that connection and remember what is true. i breathe it in. yes. yes. yes. perhaps this is to be part of my current morning practice. morning pages. yoga. find the first chakra and drop that cord into the earth. breathe in. breathe out. and then begin the day...

and now millie stirs...must be time for bed.

know that you are loved.

blessings and light,

liz