47 and Rising
Spiritually speaking, the Phoenix is known to declare her own death, in order to resurrect herself. She is a symbol of releasing belief systems that no longer serve us. Shortly after taking this self-portrait on the rock, I suffered a massive panic attack that would dramatically change my course. I entered a dark night of the soul that propelled me into a terrifying (yet necessary and exhilarating) journey of deep self-examination. A few months later when I turned 46, I gifted myself a birthday session with my long time trusted spiritual advisor. She informed me that I had a powerful bird, Phoenix, who had arrived to help me recreate myself. She told me not to be afraid, and said Phoenix chose me because she brings liberation and power, and that after the pain of this “cathartic healing crisis,” I would be flying. She assured me that what caused me pain gives me power, and that there is great power in knowing you can rebirth yourself over and over, which is what I spent my 46th year doing. Then Phoenix asked my dear teacher friend to relay a message. She wanted me to know: “You don’t even know it yet, but you ARE the Phoenix.”
For the past few years as part of what I had been calling a midlife awakening, in honor of turning another year older, I have been making self portraits in nature with the intention of challenging the invisibility women begin to feel in a society that does not value an aging woman or her natural beauty. I had made this self-portrait in honor of my upcoming 46th birthday in the spirit of accepting my body’s natural aging process by surrendering to mother nature. In the moment, I felt empowered in my changing body, using nature to remind me that the new lines and textures time was carving out on my body were as beautiful as the ones I admired in the natural world. What I did not realize at the time that photo was taken, was that my midlife awakening was about to take an unexpected turn into midlife crisis territory instead. The release of a very personal book that had me feeling so much perfectionist pressure, changing identities and transitional phases of life at home, intense hormonal shifts of perimenopause that were causing severe anxiety and mood swings, and life long untreated OCD would culminate into a perfect storm, and I would suffer a massive panic attack that would leave me forever changed. The night of the attack, I literally left my body, and it would take a while to return. A year later, I revisited the same spot where I made this photograph on the rock. I had been wondering, should I continue the photographic birthday tradition I had started? Although I stilI stood by my original messaging, my relationship to self love felt so different, and I did not want to force anything that was not true to my evolution. That’s when I looked down and discovered this dead bird, lying in a position that mirrored how I had laid my body on that rock the year before. I knew Phoenix was still with me, and acknowledging my continued rebirthing journey.
I spent my 46th year healing old wounds I did not know were still open, and looking fear dead in the eye. My lesson in surrender had only just begun when I took that photograph on the rock. Instead of fighting fear, I learned to welcome and accept it. I began a deep love affair with my shadow side, and I learned to fall in love with the darkest and most vulnerable parts of myself. It was some of the hardest work I had ever done, but eventually it became clear my crisis was actually a more epic midlife awakening than I could have previously imagined.
Phoenix was right. Through trust, faith, and embracing the storm, I would end up liberated and flying.
After photographing the dead bird's body for some time on my knees in the rocks, I looked to my left and saw this pink flower, growing ever upwards despite rough, rocky conditions. This flower felt like the self-portrait I had been longing for, and just so happened to be the same colors as the portrait I took in the grass a week prior that I wasn’t sure worked. But nature once again would align me with my truth, and show me how to see beauty and strength in myself. Together, the two self-portraits became a celebration of new growth, and like the Phoenix from the ashes, my determination to rise.
47 and rising…