I adore these Renee, not least because it means I get to take a walk with you in your neighbourhood. I am reminded that recently I have been exposed like never before. As the layers have been shed, I have nothing left to hide behind and it feels vulnerable. Until now when I am reminded through your images that there are seasons in our life when we must stand still and be seen without the masks of beauty, of adornment, of baggage. Here we stand and brace ourselves against the cold until we bloom again, in the most natural of ways. With love Louise x
"It is one thing to stand naked. It is another to do so with arms outstretched, refusing to hide, dancing with the night in the white light of day." I was thinking about this quote from you Renée and I mentioned it to Mary and she said; "Just like St. Francis in that movie". Yes, it is a scene in this beautiful movie about his early life and transformation from a rich son of a businessman to a beggar full of love and light from God. He's standing in the center of a circle surrounded by the townspeople with his father wanting some kind of justice because Francis was giving all his father's expensive clothes away telling everyone that material things will never make you happy; instead turn to simplicity and humility. As he addresses the priest and the townspeople, he talks of his epiphany and urges everyone to be free of all that we are enslaved to; and as he is talking, he is disrobing, until he is totally naked in front of everyone. With a blissful look on his face, his arms outstretched, he proceeds to walk out of the town naked to become a beggar, "like Jesus". It is a powerful scene that always gives me chills. To be that courageous and with such conviction. It's really quite beautiful and inspiring to witness. Of course, we're all capable of getting to that place, aren't we? A place of true freedom; of surrender to God's will; of shedding all the needs of the ego, and truly living from our true self. I have become more in love with trees as I've aged, and more in awe of how incredibly tall they can be and yet so firmly rooted. I love them in the summer full of leaves, and I love them in the winter, empty of leaves, but still standing so tall. As you said, "Every bare tree limb and leafless stalk is a living image of standing nude before the world, saying I am." As Mary Oliver says: "...and they call again. (the trees) "It's simple", they say, "and you too have come here to do this. To go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine."
The thought of being present and seen in the barest version of myself brings both joy and trepidation. The absolute joy of being fully me, without the wall and shields I have learned to use to protect my sensitive soul conflicts with the fear of my sensitive soul being overwhelmed by the world. I have learned there are places my soul is safe and thus try more and more to live in those spaces.
I am reminded in these images and Louise's comment that I am not only experiencing this literally "naked season", but also a very vulnerable "season" of my life as I enter elderhood. I "clothe" it often, but not as often as I used to, whether due to the fading desire to "cover my nakedness" that my ego has driven, or to simple exhaustion from the day to day requirements of this outer world.... and ... I am grateful to be arriving at an age where the inner urges to... "... stand still and be seen without the masks of beauty, of adornment... " are louder and more frequent, and delighted that as I let those go, the burden of my "baggage" goes with them! Always, always!... grateful for reminders!
These images are so exquisitely beautiful. I love getting glimpses of where you walk. Two things came to mind as I read this. The first is that I surprised myself by thinking (at least for a moment) that I might be more uncomfortable with everyone else's nakedness than my own. I had a vision of everyone in my busy neighborhood standing naked outside with their arms outstretched, and I thought, "Oh my. That might be a good day for me to stay inside." Gosh, I think that might say a lot about me. I'll have to analyze the hell out of this. The second thing that came to mind was an experience I had this evening on my sunset walk. As I headed back towards home, I heard sirens on a nearby street and then a pack of coyotes, even closer to me, joined in the song. The sirens and the howling fused together into an incredible, otherworldly sound. As you said, there is always wildness in home.
The imagery of winter... Leafless images ...and the nudity of winter. What it must be like to be a tree and bare all. I hadn’t thought from their angle before until I read your sub stack🙂
I have stood naked this past week in writing on Substack about my failed adoption, stripping away artifice to share the truth of my experience. My words of grief invited critical comments from a handful of anonymous people, one of whom created the fake email shouldnothavekids@____.com in order to shame me in my own comments section. My writing has since moved behind a paywall for that reason.
I’ve never felt my bare, ice-covered limbs so exposed to the harshness of the elements. Thankfully, many members of my community responded with kindness and empathy, gracing my branches with sunlight.
Thank you, Renée, for this photographic essay that gives imagery to my experience, while hinting at the new growth to come with the warmth of spring.
I adore these Renee, not least because it means I get to take a walk with you in your neighbourhood. I am reminded that recently I have been exposed like never before. As the layers have been shed, I have nothing left to hide behind and it feels vulnerable. Until now when I am reminded through your images that there are seasons in our life when we must stand still and be seen without the masks of beauty, of adornment, of baggage. Here we stand and brace ourselves against the cold until we bloom again, in the most natural of ways. With love Louise x
"It is one thing to stand naked. It is another to do so with arms outstretched, refusing to hide, dancing with the night in the white light of day." I was thinking about this quote from you Renée and I mentioned it to Mary and she said; "Just like St. Francis in that movie". Yes, it is a scene in this beautiful movie about his early life and transformation from a rich son of a businessman to a beggar full of love and light from God. He's standing in the center of a circle surrounded by the townspeople with his father wanting some kind of justice because Francis was giving all his father's expensive clothes away telling everyone that material things will never make you happy; instead turn to simplicity and humility. As he addresses the priest and the townspeople, he talks of his epiphany and urges everyone to be free of all that we are enslaved to; and as he is talking, he is disrobing, until he is totally naked in front of everyone. With a blissful look on his face, his arms outstretched, he proceeds to walk out of the town naked to become a beggar, "like Jesus". It is a powerful scene that always gives me chills. To be that courageous and with such conviction. It's really quite beautiful and inspiring to witness. Of course, we're all capable of getting to that place, aren't we? A place of true freedom; of surrender to God's will; of shedding all the needs of the ego, and truly living from our true self. I have become more in love with trees as I've aged, and more in awe of how incredibly tall they can be and yet so firmly rooted. I love them in the summer full of leaves, and I love them in the winter, empty of leaves, but still standing so tall. As you said, "Every bare tree limb and leafless stalk is a living image of standing nude before the world, saying I am." As Mary Oliver says: "...and they call again. (the trees) "It's simple", they say, "and you too have come here to do this. To go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine."
The thought of being present and seen in the barest version of myself brings both joy and trepidation. The absolute joy of being fully me, without the wall and shields I have learned to use to protect my sensitive soul conflicts with the fear of my sensitive soul being overwhelmed by the world. I have learned there are places my soul is safe and thus try more and more to live in those spaces.
As always I love your voice in photo form.
Blessings dear one.
I am reminded in these images and Louise's comment that I am not only experiencing this literally "naked season", but also a very vulnerable "season" of my life as I enter elderhood. I "clothe" it often, but not as often as I used to, whether due to the fading desire to "cover my nakedness" that my ego has driven, or to simple exhaustion from the day to day requirements of this outer world.... and ... I am grateful to be arriving at an age where the inner urges to... "... stand still and be seen without the masks of beauty, of adornment... " are louder and more frequent, and delighted that as I let those go, the burden of my "baggage" goes with them! Always, always!... grateful for reminders!
These images are so exquisitely beautiful. I love getting glimpses of where you walk. Two things came to mind as I read this. The first is that I surprised myself by thinking (at least for a moment) that I might be more uncomfortable with everyone else's nakedness than my own. I had a vision of everyone in my busy neighborhood standing naked outside with their arms outstretched, and I thought, "Oh my. That might be a good day for me to stay inside." Gosh, I think that might say a lot about me. I'll have to analyze the hell out of this. The second thing that came to mind was an experience I had this evening on my sunset walk. As I headed back towards home, I heard sirens on a nearby street and then a pack of coyotes, even closer to me, joined in the song. The sirens and the howling fused together into an incredible, otherworldly sound. As you said, there is always wildness in home.
Breathtaking sentiment. Photos are stark and bare yet filled with detail that is actually poetic. Beautiful!
...Hi Renée,
The imagery of winter... Leafless images ...and the nudity of winter. What it must be like to be a tree and bare all. I hadn’t thought from their angle before until I read your sub stack🙂
Love it
I like Pipp's reaction to the nakedness of winter: beautifully vulnerable.
Extraordinary studies in light, lines and textures, Renée. Stunning.
I have stood naked this past week in writing on Substack about my failed adoption, stripping away artifice to share the truth of my experience. My words of grief invited critical comments from a handful of anonymous people, one of whom created the fake email shouldnothavekids@____.com in order to shame me in my own comments section. My writing has since moved behind a paywall for that reason.
I’ve never felt my bare, ice-covered limbs so exposed to the harshness of the elements. Thankfully, many members of my community responded with kindness and empathy, gracing my branches with sunlight.
Thank you, Renée, for this photographic essay that gives imagery to my experience, while hinting at the new growth to come with the warmth of spring.
Naked indeed. I have never thought that way around before. Beautifully vulnerable.
Like my own heart had written it.
More reflections.....more mirrors...
It’s a strange place to land this place,
but nothing more truer.x 🌹🌬️🫀 🪶