“…it always strikes me as sacred. All those people going by. People who simply decide to live their truth, even when doing so wasn’t simple. Each and every one of them had the courage to say, ‘This is who I am even if you’ll crucify me for it.’”  - Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed

It took me a while to decide to share these photos of me, naked and distorted. I was afraid of what you’d think of me. I still am. But the highest part of me knows I can’t allow fear to suffocate my creative freedom. Because I can no longer believe that I will stay “safe” inside a box that is smaller than my contents. 

Its so fun to explore making photographs of all kinds and not to limit myself to any one kind of photography. I intend to always experiment, play and to find beauty in everything. 

Written in March 2015. Forgotten. Finally published October 30, 2015
Seemingly separately, I came to write about this very topic and found this unpublished draft on my blog…

image of me taken by Kelly Rauer.

——-

There are some things I don’t quite understand about myself.

Like why I challenge myself tirelessly. It’s as if some part of me believes there is a prize to be won for who can endure the most personal struggle by choice in one lifetime, some sort of self-flagellation contest. I sprint toward what my childish mind perceives as the finish line - enlightenment - dragging myself through extreme circumstances and tripping all over myself and others in the name of consciousness. I do learn from all the cuts and bruises I inflict on myself, but it is an exhausting way to go about life. I’m learning to slow down and be present.
There is no finish line. There is only presence, and it is a moment to moment practice.

Photography both helps and hinders my ability to be present. When I am in the world, the act of noticing and actively seeing is a sensory experience that brings me an awareness I didn’t possess before I picked up a camera on a regular basis. However, the second the shutter clicks, the present moment passes and the image that remains becomes a slice of time I hold on to indefinitely.