The session brought out a deep honesty in me, as the conversations I had with Anastasia while she photographed me held space for many parts of me to emerge – the child, the survivor, the victim, the caregiver, the healer, the magician, the wise woman.
The poet in me wrote this poem in one night, as these words climbed out of the images into my fingers .
The photos tell a story of a Woman.
And that woman is me.
A woman who feels sensual in her body
A woman who feels sad in her body
A woman who feels joy in her body
A woman who loves the curves in her body one day
And on another day feels shame for her body fat
And wistful about having wrinkles by her eyes
A woman who feels both her youth
And her age when she looks deeply enough
At herself reflected by the photos
The photos tell the story of a Body
A body that held memories of war, and trauma
A body that held memories of ecstasy and miracles
A body that knows how to fight and defend
And just as deeply knows how love and nurture
A body that has learned
That bodies are sacred maps
It is the story of a Soul
A soul that has had a thousand lives
A soul that learns from the ancestors
A soul that meditated a thousand hours
In order to return to be Here
In order to reclaim Innocence
I am grateful for this experience. It confronted my habitually trained inner model who always posed for pictures in order to be an object of beauty , an object that craves the admiration of others. I remember those modeling photoshoots where parts of me felt very satisfied and other parts of me never felt seen. In this photoshoot , many parts of me came out to been seen, even some that I had not seen before. Some parts of me were happy to come out and play, while others hid behind of the corners of a plant. Some hid a bit more than others because shame or sadness came up in my body as I engaged in deep intimate conversations . Then, after some time, the part of me that is my deep heritage, my ancestral healer, my inner warrior and wise woman surfaced. When I see my images, this part feels like the strangest part to me. I feel I'm still learning to embody her. She is the crone part of me, the part that has survived 53 years of life, created life and many other beautiful creations, and continue to love, despite all the strife and difficulties in the world. She doesn't care much how she looks because she has eyes that see deeply into everything, and can find strength in the most vulnerable parts, and beauty in the darkest aspects of me.
She is my inner grandmother. She is my teacher. She is emerging from within me.
QPN