I am in love with Those whom we have learned to judge. I am drawn to Those we are told to hate. I am best friends with the Ones whom we call names in the shadows but smile to in daylight. I am in love with the Ones you might be afraid to fully embrace. I am engaged to Unconditional Love and the Ones whom we are taught to not love are my source of inspiration and are the medicine to my authentic path:

The town drunk of Yelapa, the Migrants crossing the Sonoran desert and the most divine Whore are fountains of inspiration for this soul that resides in my physical temple. I have learned to love the man who sexually abused me for so many years because forgiveness tastes so much sweeter than suffering. An incredibly sexy and outrageously talented transgender woman is currently my best friend and muse and life has never been more full for this heart and soul before you. I am a disciple of those who live their lives in personal and judgement-free truth. I bow to those who CHOOSE freedom from the box that our fragile society has created. A society that I never agreed to agree with, but who I nevertheless respect and honor. I embrace those who walk their talk, leading by example instead of falling pray to the overwhelming popularity of hypocrisy and judgement that plagues my beautiful brothers and sisters I see sleepwalking around me.

Borracho (drunk) Steve lived under the thatched side patio of Tino’s Restaurant and Bar on the Yelapa beach in the 80′s. Everyone despised him and talked endlessly about his inabilities as a human being. Borracho Steve was an ex-patriot from somewhere indeterminable in Los United States of Gringolandia. He had a long matted beard the color of dirty laundry and his unkempt, unruly hair was a wild, oily mess around his wrinkled sunburned face. His eyes were the color of the soft blue sky after the clouds parted from a summer rain and were filled with a tremendous desire to be loved. He smelled of the ocean, tequila, Yelapa sand and piss. He would ramble on and on about nothing much at all and was beautifully animated with his weathered hands. When he saw me walking towards him on the beach, teeth would emerge in an excited half grin half lion-face from the hairy mask on his face. Tears would gather in his eyes. My own young heart would nearly burst every time I took his body of weary and love-starved bones in my small arms. He would kneel in the sand and I would bury my blond head in his greasy hair and tell him that I loved him. I loved Borracho Steve as a Mother loves her Son: Unconditionally, no questions asked. I knew he needed love and I loved giving him that love. Borracho Steve died suddenly on the beach one humid and hot spring night; he was haphazardly and unceremoniously buried in the cemetery in the Pueblo. I cried for weeks.

She first came to me as a massage client. It wasn’t long before she became one of my closest friends. She wanted to tell me for months but couldn’t get it out without crying. In fact, I couldn’t even hear her the first time she confessed to me that she was a Whore. I didn’t understand what she meant at first. Did she like to sleep with a lot of men and felt badly about it? Why was she so upset? And with time I finally understood that she was a love worker, the oldest profession on our sweet Earth. She did not like to confess her profession to people, especially women, because inevitably she would be judged which would directly lead to feeling un-loved. She was exhausted and deeply sad that she could not share with people who she was and what she truly loved to do. I have never, ever ever ever met a woman who so beautifully honors the Divine Masculine AND the Divine Feminine. I have never ever ever known a woman who can offer our brothers and sisters such unconditional and sensuous love. Her trade is Medicine Work. One of her clients is an 85 year old man who she fetches from the Suntran bus stop for his monthly Medicine. She has taught me more about my sexuality and unconditional love than any other human on this planet. She loves to be called a whore, she says. She likes how the word rolls of her lips. Now that she is completely comfortable with me, I get to hear stories from her work and we laugh, cry and I praise her for being a Healing Goddess for our sexually confused Men and Women. She is my Sacred Teacher of Authentic Sexuality and I love her.

Why do we choose to use our words to judge and to make poison? Why do we love to hate? What if we practiced loving each other and our incredible differences? What if I could be me and you could be you and we could honor our Authentic choices? Why do we feel we must convert everyone to be just like us? Why do we forget how to believe in and honor the magic of individuality?

Now that I am a few days shy of 5 months pregnant, I have re-discovered the magic in every little thing. Just yesterday, I sat outside of a Circle K convenience store after working on a client and indulged in my first ever bag of Cheetos and drank a terribly sweet tea. I was in bliss! With every Cheeto that I put into my mouth, I would giggle in childish excitement while watching with deep affection the gorgeously strange people whom I would never talk to or ever know the names of stroll in and out of the Circle K. The garbage scattered in front of the garbage can looked like an art instillation piece. I marveled at the incredible weirdness and magic of the Circle K, a place I have never stopped to ponder.

And so to end this story, here are 2 different shoots I had the honor of photographing over the last few months. Recently someone told me that I only photograph skinny women. I was shocked! I became defensive and wanted to show that person my client files and prove to her that I photograph all Divine Bodies, but I chose to not defend myself. You see, I don’t see in terms of skinny and not- skinny. I see only terms of One’s personal and authentic beauty. I see You. And I love seeing you.