Last month a photovangelist saved my life

"The difference between a rut and a grave is the depth" ~Gerald Burrill

Life has a way of breaking you down - almost in a scientific sense - to your base elements. And you suddenly find yourself a collection of pieces... to be sifted, sorted and put back together. 

When I got the opportunity to finally be shot solo by Saddi Khali, I was in pieces such as those.

It wasn't my first tryst with Saddi: in March last year, The Mr and I did a couple's shoot and it was

incredible. I thought then that I had been changed, but I really had no idea! The photos were amazingly beautiful, and to see ourselves reflected - six years of marriage, one child and, 20kgs later - as still vibrant and sexy blew my mind! I was sold. I was an evangelist for the photovangelist - telling all and sundry about the experience and recommending it to anyone that would give me the chance.

But then, I went solo. A month ago to be exact. 

I was ripe for the experience: almost 40kgs overweight, two children into it, my lifeless career hanging by a thread. I knew something had to give but I wasn't sure what, when or how.

The pre-shoot talk happened without me even noticing it. We spoke casually, catching up on events since the last shoot. I shared. He listened to me and challenged me. Little did I know I was being processed... and not in the way of something being forcibly done to me - but as though somehow something was happening within me. I was seeing myself with more clarity with every conversation. 

Saddi has an incredible gift. His special 'eye' is not limited only to the two he uses to find focus from behind the lens; it is also in the way he reads his subjects. He has an uncanny way of just knowing... of knowing things he really has no business knowing. It was as if he immediately knew all of the things that I was not saying - and he called me out on *each* and *every* single one of them.

On the day of the shoot, I was nervous - not about dis-robing, but about everything that would happen afterwards. Many will tell you that Saddi shows you the beauty that he sees in you (and that is there to begin with). That's true. But he also shows you what you are putting out into the world. When you combine a high-resolution camera and natural light, your unintentional bitch-face is hard to deny. BUT when - moments later - you see how you look when you are relaxed, when you are happy, when you are comfortable; you cannot imagine any other way to be.

It was the contrast of the two that changed my life. I cannot begin to describe how it feels to see yourself as more than beautiful... stunning, gorgeous, a true work-of-art. Not in an egotistic or delusional way, but simply because the proof is right there in front of you, on the display screen of this man's camera. Exhibit A. Irrefutable, undeniable, real.

You have no choice but to see yourself differently. To believe differently of yourself. To expect different things from yourself. You simply have no choice. 

That is what the Saddi Khali experience did for me. I could not, in good conscience, bear witness to the overwhelming beauty that is me in my natural state (... and believe me, I was overwhelmed) and then go home and continue to be anything less. 

I realised that the pursed lips and terrified eyes I had been walking around with are neither beautiful nor natural. They are not the me that is meant to be. 

And when you know what you can be as well as what you are not - the next step is a no-brainer. You want to be that beauty all the time. You want to be comfortable, you want to be real. And so you reevaluate the fakeness in you, the wackness in you. The pursed lips and terrified eyes of your spirit; you want them gone.

It's been just about a month now and, since my shoot, life has opened up as if it's been waiting for me all along. I've opened up too. It feels like the universe is conspiring to affirm my potential for greatness at every available turn.

And my soul faces every moment with a smile that spreads right from my lips to my eyes - no more pursing, no more terror... just open.

Moving forward by starting again

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on". ~Carl Sandburg

Little Tyke’s absence is turning out to be quite an exercise. Not unexpected but it dawned on me last night that, in the 5 weeks that he’s been gone, I’ve also taken quite a journey of my own. I’ve been through a number of phases that until recently I had just thought of as the natural female emotions that would ensue in a situation such as this. The inevitable surface ripples of the displacement caused by his departure.

So far, I’ve been able to identify two phases for sure and I’m pretty damn certain of a third on the horizon:

Guilty positivity: I’m tempted to divide this into two. Although these ‘sub-phases’ happened in very quick succession, almost blending into each other; they were distinctly different. Different enough, for me to just go with my gut on this and separate the two. Why not?

a) Near-indifference: I say ‘near’ because I was ACUTELY aware of the fact that my son was going to be away from me, from his home, for the longest time ever and that that was a HUGE deal. It made me extremely nervous and I had a sinking suspicion that sadness would, inevitably, not be too far behind. Nonetheless, I was a bit numb to it and secretly glad for the breather.

b) Renewal: The ‘glad for the breather’ part of me morphed into a sense of expectancy and anticipation of all the things I could accomplish without Little Tyke here. Not in a bad way, but kinda like “here’s an opportunity to dedicate myself to putting in the work that’ll build him a Mummy he can be proud of”.

The two affected each other because I, a) had it in my mind that I should be feeling something that I wasn’t, and b) when I did finally start feeling something it wasn’t what (I thought) I should have been feeling. Hence the ‘guilt’.

Definite negativity: This week I was really on the business end of this one; close to being expelled from it and shot out, only to land in an exhausted heap - far, far away from where I started. The past 6days have been a ‘snot en trane’ [snot and tears] fest of note! I feel completely lifeless without him. It was like I finally realised that I had been lying to myself for a month. How could I have ever thought that life would be possible, let alone enjoyable, without him. It all started gradually enough - a small pang, then a general malaise. It just grew and grew until, at the worst of it, I was crying myself to sleep. I missed him unendurably and nothing, noone, could make it better. Fullstop! – Or at least until today.

Thoughtful positivity: This one is really all just riding on a hunch. It hasn’t gotten there yet, but I really feel like it’s going to be the next step. It may even turn out to be a part (a) for this phase *fingers crossed*. I think the very contemplative nature of this one just might push me into “Definite positivity” – which would be (b).

My last post was all about what being a mother has done for me. And like I said, the positives far outweigh the negatives. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about today… ‘thinking’ being the operative word. I wasn’t clouded by my heavy emotion on this one. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do now that I really truly realize how much I love this little person.

Recent events in the news like the death of little Vanilla Nurse, the Caster Semenya issue, Derrion Alberts in the US, and the Roman Polanski debacle have all had me thinking of how I’d feel if it was my child on the receiving end of all these events. I’ve been thinking about how vulnerable he really is and the fact that, with the world being what it is today, me and Hubby are all that the little guy has really got.

It all got me thinking that unlike Vanilla, Caster, Derrion and Mr Polanski’s victim, Little Tyke hasn’t yet lost anything. He may be far away from me, but when he returns he will still be intact and we’ll be here to take him into our arms and be blessed enough to go on to help him navigate his way through the world. It’s been quite a revelation and so my perspective is slowly beginning to shift. Of course, I still want him back – like today – but I also recognize now so many things that make me look at this time apart as a way to bring me something to look forward to.

I’m looking forward to holding my little boy with a new tightness and looking at him with fresh eyes. A true and resonant acknowledgement of my role in his life and his role in mine. I’m looking forward to using everything that I’ve learned during this time about being a mother to be a better one for him.