Kelsey’s Nature

This is the first, of I hope many, words from the incredibly inspiring women who bravely step in front of my camera - naked. I have never had a woman bring a real medieval sword to a shoot before, and now I think this needs to be mandatory—the power.

I will let Kelsey’s words speak for themselves because they blew me away with their beauty and deep resonance. Kelsey perfectly and vulnerable sums up what I hope these See Your Nature sessions create inside someone. The photos are just the cherry on top.

Pour yourself a cup of something cozy and let her words cocoon the places inside you that whisper, I’ve felt that, too.

“I feel like the ocean calls me home.

Maybe it’s my neuro spicy brain. The crash of the surf calms the chatter in my head, and the roll of the waves up and down the beach - it feels like they can reach within and smooth out the jagged pieces of anxiety and self doubt that sometimes crowd within my chest.

It took me a long time to realize that whenever I’m feeling low, or not enough, water replenishes my soul. Large bodies of water, especially moving bodies of water like the river or ocean do best. I can feel my tension melting away and joining the water on its quest to find different shores. However, a good shower to rinse off a shitty day can be almost as effective.

Almost.

Getting naked in the tides in front of a camera was an interesting experience to say the least. I have the same normal opinions of my body most people do. I could be more of this over here, less of this over here. I think I could maybe be beautiful if only I could x,y,z. Maybe I could starve myself. Maybe I could try keto. Maybe I could use mental gymnastics to convince myself that if only I run more/ lift more / do more yoga / drink more Tide pods / do more cartwheels / cut off my love handles / get a boob job / a chin job / a nose job / a whole body job, then maybe, maybe I’ll be loveable.

Maybe someone else will find me attractive then. (My husband must be lying every time he’s said it these past 20 years, I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s just being kind, you see.) See, maybe there’s some miracle way that I haven’t tried yet to fix me. Maybe then, just maybe, then, I can love myself as I am. 

Or maybe, and forgive me if this is crazy, but maybe I can forget all that and just love myself as I am now, for the sheer virtue of being alive, here on planet earth, and as natural as any other soft animal or beloved human I care for. 

Point is, none of us look like supermodels, except maybe the supermodels. And not without photoshop. And certainly not when they’re forty and have had two kids. At least not without intense amounts of specific, concerted effort, and a fewer donut lifestyle than I personally would be comfortable with.

So why bother doing a photoshoot at all? 

Because that self love thing is such a trip, isn’t it? I had to at least TRY.

I had to find my breath, taking everything off in front of a camera, but nature held me. The ocean sang the surf to the shore, and the sunlight warmed my skin. Naked is natural, humans are the ones who make things awkward. And anyway, I brought a sword. Nothing reminds me to cut through egoic bullshit like a sword.

The irony. “Who would you be fighting naked?” My inner voice teases. “Pirates? Brigands? Naked woman on the beach with a sword, that’s realistic.”

“Mostly myself,” is the whispered reply. “Mostly the cruel voices that haunt my past. Every betrayal, every falling out, every snicker. Every person who ever made me out to be a running joke when I presented vulnerability and was met with dripping sarcasm.  Every muttered comment, every whisper and side eye that I absorbed and embodied as an internal critic that is never satisfied and always disgusted with me, striving for a goal that is perpetually out of reach. Every shitty voice I ever took on and made my own. Every bully’s voice that now lives rent free in my head. Thats who. This unwelcome, unkind, critical version of myself.”

I feel you, the water whispers, splashing against my feet. Let me hold that for you, please. Please let me take that away.

So she does. And I breathe. And allow the vulnerability.

I don’t look like a supermodel. My stomach carries the marks of my children. My chin doubles up in certain lights. My breasts keep their eyes averted unless I’m actively reaching above my head.

I think about my cat, Moon. The way she splays out and lets her tummy free to the sky for pats and raspberries and cuddles. Moon has a swingy belly, and I love it. Perhaps I can be soft and free with my belly like Moon, and stop sucking it in before the shutter clicks.

I think about the toxic mentality of the 90’s and early 2000’s, and how so many beautiful women I know went bulimic and anorexic, and I was jealous, can you imagine? Jealous that I couldn’t manage to give myself an eating disorder, I wanted to be thin so badly. I glance down at how my sides and my thighs are a little thicker lately and I think maybe it’s the scones I like to bake.

God I love scones. 

I think about the hiit classes I’ve been attending and how I’m stronger than I was in April. I think about my friend who appears heavier than me, but she can kick my ass in any lifting challenge, because what she really is, is strong. I think about how we’re all shaped a little differently, and how bizarre it is that we choose to find issue with our looks. 

Gradually I relax. The sun feels warm, the ocean is just the ocean, perfect as always. My ego is just an ego and my meat suit is just a meat suit. 

Those wonky feet with the weird toes sure have walked me through a lot of amazing miles. 

The bones of my hands are delicate, like a bird’s, and yet their grip on this sword is unyielding. I know that they can knead bread, and swing a weapon, paint things, and build a respectable fire. Goddamn, it’s wonderful to be able to create things.

Turn, click. Pose, click. 

The sun is going down, we’re losing light. 

I’m cold by now, but I don’t mind. The breeze tickles the gooseflesh onto my skin, beading saltwater and it’s time to stop. A bathrobe and hot tea have never felt so good.

The ocean sings. I can hear the pebbles rolling up and down the beach again. Far out to sea, I hear a seal. I can hear my breath. My heartbeat.

At what point in our evolution did we decide so wholeheartedly that we were separate from our surroundings? That nature was some thing to be conquered, while we were in need of shaping, molding, perfecting? When did we make the division? Us vs it?

We’re not IN nature. We ARE nature. And as my heartbeat and the tides sync up, I’ve never been more present in the fact. Let my belly be as soft as my cat’s. Let my stretch marks remind me of the power of love, and carrying new life into this world. Let my thighs remind me of scones.

Let no one, ever again, convince me of who I SHOULD be, rather than the nature that I am, even if that only applies to the invisible critic within myself.

Let the sword cut through the bullshit, and then fall, spent, to rust within the sea, while I breathe, and beat, and laugh among the waves, with gratitude.

Thank you.”

Thank you Kelsey for bravely sharing your story. Your words cracked me open and softened my edges and I am so grateful for your trust.