It has been a period of deceleration, of embracing silence, and of heeding the whispers within. With each passing day, the murmurings of my inner voice grew clearer, its guidance more resounding.
In 2015, I embarked on a journey to South America, a blessing that would prove to be a profound life-altering experience. Initially, I saw myself merely as an observer, tasked with capturing moments through my lens. However, on the second day, amidst the ancient temple of Sacsayhuaman, buried deep beneath the earth's surface, my existence underwent a seismic shift. Emerging from the depths of the temple, tears flowing, body purging, I felt as if I had tapped into something primordial—an awakening of the spirit, a remembrance of ages past. It was a moment of profound spiritual recalibration, a shedding of old layers, a reintegration of forgotten truths. My identity, as I knew it, shattered, leaving behind a vast expanse of space—a glimmer of understanding that all was as it should be, part of a pact made long before.
In the wake of this revelation, I found myself unable to wield my camera unless driven by inspiration, averse to any semblance of rigidity or constraint. I questioned my path, unsure of where it led. I withdrew from photo shoots, grappling with confusion, yet surrendering to the belief that there existed a greater plan, a path awaiting my discovery. I wondered, embracing the slow unfolding of events, grappling with bouts of wavering faith, forgetting the perfection of divine timing—each moment requiring the right conditions, nurtured and cultivated with care.
The inception of Souls of Byron marks a natural progression in my journey—an organic evolution rather than a forced endeavour. It feels like a delicate birthing, unfolding precisely when the time is right. At times, I sense myself as an instrument of the divine, guided along a path of openness and vulnerability, sharing stories that illuminate the interconnectedness and similarity of our human experience.