Tag Archives: Liz Lamoreaux

Thursday Thanksgiving: The Week Is Nearly Over



It has been that kind of week. It started off just fine. I had some time to read and reflect and create as I read along with others in Liz Lamereux’s Inner Excavation read-along for this summer. It’s based on her book of the same title. Each week, we will explore a new idea and a new chapter. This week, it’s all about beginnings and taking some first steps. I am trying to “reframe” my attitude, especially during these last two weeks before I return to the classroom for one of the marathon teaching schedules in which I begin the day at 9:00 a.m., teach two classes, have a three-hour break, and then teach two more classes beginning at 5:30 and leaving campus at 10:30 p.m. Yes, it’s going to be some very long days.

Even Tuesday was a good day. I went out for a photo walk along the pond. I noticed some wild flowers I had not seen before, or perhaps I have seen them; I just haven’t paid attention to them before. That’s the beauty of contemplative photography as a practice (it’s not technical, so don’t expect a “how-to-do-contemplative-photography” post any time soon!). With contemplative photography, the photographer learns how to see differently and to accept what he or she sees as a “gift,” if you will. It’s a way of acknowledging that there is beauty in the world, in the ordinary, and what some people may see as the mundane.


Wednesday was a different animal altogether. First, I knew I had some errands that I needed to complete, but I woke with some severe pain which colored my outlook. I did not want to get out of bed because lying flat on my back was the only position that was in any way comfortable, and that wasn’t the most comfortable! I don’t know that I’ve had this bad a sciatic attack before. Then there were the other phone calls that put some additional demands on my time. But begin “Mom,” I answered the call, and helped out. At least by the end of the day, I had some relief from the pain. Moreover, I had some encouraging words from some online friends in the Inner Excavation group. What I needed to hear most clearly is, “you are not alone.” Sometimes, this journey of mine seems to be a solitary one.

Today, I have been catching up on my writing, my dreaming, my responding. In a few minutes, I’ll pull out the piano bench and practice and play some music to set my soul singing. I will read some inspiring words, and I will sit awhile with my Inner Excavation journal. Perhaps I will pick up the camera and walk around the ponds to see what has changed since Tuesday. 



Sometimes, life is just hard. Sometimes, I have to create space. And I am thankful that I can do these things.



Today is the first Monday in July. It’s the first day of a new work week. It’s another day to begin again.

Liz Lamoreux is offering a free (yes, free) read-along for her book Inner Excavation: Explore Your Self through Photography, Poetry, and Mixed Media. I have had the book for a couple or three years, and I followed along the first time that Liz offered the free read-along. But sometimes, I have trouble finishing what I begin. Today, I am not only a “begin-ner,” but I am setting my intention to become a finisher as well.

My first “excavation” is in my living room. Truly, I do need to have an archeological dig in this room. Who knows what I will find! This morning, I started with my sofa, and here is what I found:


I’m finishing a “reader’s wrap” made from the Unforgettable line of Red Heart yarns. I am in love with the softness, not only of the colors but of the texture of the yarn.


There are my “art” supplies—pens and colored pencils that I keep in a wooden box that once held either Cuties or Halos (mandarin oranges). I am an office-supply junkie as well as an art supply junkie.


I will be using a top-bound spiral sketchbook as my journal for this go-round of Inner Excavations. And I am not going to be afraid to mark up my copy of the book. I’ve already begun coloring over words and phrases that jump out at me.


I don’t remember how old I was when I first learned to play the piano. My mother was my first teacher, and then Mrs. Wessinger taught me from the time I was in fifth or sixth grade until I graduated from high school. I thought I was going to be a concert pianist when I went to college, but that was not to be the case. However, I took piano lessons from one of the college instructors until I did my student teaching during my last semester on campus. And after nearly forty years, I am resuming those lessons with an instructor at the same college where I studies those many years ago. These lessons are feeding my soul.


I love sea shells, the colors, the textures, the coolness of them in my hand. However, I don’t get to the coast often enough to collect them myself. So, I resorted to buying some from a local craft store. I keep a jar full of these shells on my piano.

I begin. . . .



A journey

                A pilgrimage

                                         A quest


to answer a call, THE CALL

     The Invitation

I begin a voyage of discovery, of questing

I begin to know me.