We all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.
— Robert McCammon

There I was buck naked.

Gyan mudra in hand, grounded by the cold wooden planks beneath me. I waited for the silence of the camera's last shot, cueing the end of yet another series of self-timed portraits.

It all started this morning with the thought, “I wonder what this pose would look like with no clothes at all?” And now I know...

Gorgeous. That’s what.

And so I continued on, finding new moments in new shapes, dawning nothing but 32-year-old skin and the scars I’ve collected along the way.

And just like that the words stopped. I was blocked.

With no ending in sight, frustrated and seriously considering plagiarism (only kidding)...

The thought hit me...

Maybe we never needed to be added to, maybe we're complete exactly as we are.

And so I trusted that voice as truth and I posted that badass yoga nudie on Instagram.

xo, Donielle