passion is an energy

4.15.23 | words by euni

self portrait photo story

as the season transition, so does the ways in which we feel into our feels. cling to what was, let go of what might never become. passion is an energy. it pulsates through the veins of the ones who desire to chase life rather than passively let it unfold. it breaks your heart over and over again for the sake of opening your soul wider to let more beautiful things exist beyond what you’ve already know. revealing what once labeled the unknown.

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so, i don't know if grief can be celebrated

4.11.23 | words by euni

self portrait photo story (*CW/TW: images of breast post surgery)

april 2022 i had a biopsy on my right breast to check a mass. this is super common, it’s probably nothing, you’re going to be fine. I am fine. we’re the words that everyone had to say. my body didn’t want it - my mind knew that we were okay but we went through with the procedure anyway. i left my body before the doctor even entered the room. I took these pictures to try to return to a state of okay that i needed to be to keep moving through my days. last week my body remembered + i reflect on these self portraits as a way honor the grief that my body holds, despite the ways we have moved forward and on from this layer of trauma + pain. 

i keep putting my fingers to the keyboard, picking up my pen, trying to form words to release all that i need to say. i keep stalling, shoving down all that lingers + remains. busying my days, overstimulating my insides. the body remembers what the mind formulates strategies to ensure we forget. the mind tells us that the tragedy is small even though our insides trimmer to help us release. the body holds stories that only it's own can know the depths of unspoken, forgotten or overshadowed grief. 

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Winter Musing
1.11.23 | words by euni

photo story created with Mike Saavedra

I don't think you really realize that you're falling until you're pretty close to the ground. That you've been falling for a while - or even for how long until everything you thought was you or mattered is scattered right in front of you with no hope of piecing it all back together because it feels too messy and hard.

This time of year everyone wants to shout all their hopes and dreams. Tell the stories of how they're gonna do better than they have before. It always leave me feeling more empty and isolated, because my soul knows that if we never let parts of ourselves rest or die, we will eventually stop blooming, that we eventually won't be able to rebirth. Read more and subscribe to the INBODY Art + Musings Substack to get inbox updates on new visual centered stories.