EXPLORING the SEEN and UNSEEN MYSTERIES of MATTER and SPIRIT THROUGH the BODY, EARTH, PSYCHE and SOUL
a CEREMONY OF
SOIL, SOMA and SOUL
All for her. The woman you’ll be in 10, 20, 50 years. For the one you wake up as tomorrow. A wild & creative container for women to honor the heroine’s journey. Inhabiting the wild Creatura of god, celebrating the chapter, and dancing with the divine.
EMBRACING our MARKINGS of MATTER, BLEEDING with the POETRIES of LIFE.
HONORING the HEROINE
PHOTOGRAPHY as MIRROR
BODY as ORACLE
EARTH as MEDICINE
Honoring the body and her journey is what we do with this work. She is the greatest partnership we will ever experience, the ultimate compassionate witness. She’s carried us from our very first heartbeat as a tiny cluster of cells within the womb, and will be with us until our very last.
Celebrating every limb, toe, jiggle, and wrinkle. Witnessing her fierceness, her softness. Her raw power and her tenderness. The dualities women hold that draw us into the great mystery.
CONDUITS for the SHAPESHIFTER
Through every rebirth and underworld, photography has been a conduit for how I understand myself through every phase of my own heroines journey.
My work now is a blend of all the things that shake my soul, revel in the great mystery and remind me “I’M ALIVE.”
TAPPING into the TENDER
LIBERATING the SOUL
TRUSTING the BODY
I believe that as women we contain multitudes, bridges between matter & magic.
My work is a blend of devotional containers for women to revel in their tenderness & totality. By igniting the spirit, returning to the body’s poetry, channelling cosmic compassion, and celebrating being a CREATURA of GOD.
An online garden in the digital matrix for women of matter and spirit.
Come hang in the garden, we’re sowing seeds and digging up rubies from the mud.
Gathering the shapeshifters, the beauty seekers, & lovers of mystery.
a FEMALE-FOCUSED LANDING SPACE within THE DIGITAL MATRIX for WOMEN to EXPLORE, EMBODY and EXPAND
When a human dies, the soul moves
When a human dies, the soul moves
through the universe trying to describe how a body trembles
when it’s lost, softens when it’s safe, how a wound would heal
given nothing but time. Do you understand? Nothing in space can
imagine it. No comet, no nebula, no ray of light
can fathom the landscape of awe, the heat of shame.
The fingertips pulling the first gray hair
and throwing it away.
I can’t imagine it,
the stars say. Tell us again about goosebumps.
Tell us again about pain.
– Andrea Gibson
