Vigilate et
Orate
Absit Omen
Chapters The Creation 1-9
Immaculate Mary 10-12
Baptism 13-20
The Redemption 21-28
Index of Saints
1
I
n the beginning, I created my own heaven and earth. Nothing existed for me before the point of my own creation. Before I came into existence the world as I now know it was without form and void. Afore I was brought out into the world, I was shrouded in darkness and as the doctor wrenched me free of the grip of my Mother’s body, there was blinding white brightness searing through my tightly shut eyes. And then there was light. Should you pray to me for creating a world within myself? A world with strong earthy foundations and endless seas of depth. A world where ideas have minds of their own and, almost as if as separate beings, they go forth and multiply. A world where these brain flowers flourish through the planes of my Cortex and emotions bury themselves down into my Amygdala.
2
5
S
hould you follow my commandments because I do what I believe is best? Because I do whatever appeases the higher being, the great force within that is my soul?
“Look in the mirror every day and tell yourself that you are wonderful” because like it or not you are The Divine Creation, made up of beautiful Flesh, Blood, Bone and Soul. Marvel at your own Structure and its inner workings, its growth and its decay. Don’t fear sounding boastful, why shouldn’t you? You are a miracle, we all are.
“Do not sweat the small stuff” because I believe it is a waste of our valuable, short time on earth rehashing pain that needs to be felt intensely once and buried for good. Don’t go digging for pain.
“Don’t let any book, scripture or preacher tell you that who and what you are is wrong.” this includes the very one you are reading right now. If you deeply desire to live your life by an outdated set of rules, then go forth and worship your Heart out. I will still love you for it. All of these are sins in my eyes because that is how I choose to live my life. If you too believe in these commandments, does this make you a believer? Do you have faith in me because my mantra rings true in your ears?
S
hould you worship me for creating from my own image? I choose to dress, to paint my face, to walk, to talk in my own way. I create a new being in my own image every time I look in the mirror, every time I put pen to paper, every time I put the bristles of a brush to my face. I am the Creator and I never stop creating. Do you look to me and want to wear my soul, my Exoskeleton, me? For all this worship and faith that I have generated within you through mere reflection, would you give yourself to me based on scripture?
I am the Creator of my own universe. I am the poet of my own mantra. I am the painter of my own image to be projected outwards to the world. I pray to nobody but myself because I possess the rights to my own story, my own genesis. Through all this I only bestow one commandment upon you all:
You will not worship false idols. Believe in nothing and nobody before first believing in yourself.
7
10
13
W
hen she filled the deep, empty basin with water it wasn’t to cleanse, she had terrible intentions. A poison was seeping throughout her mind and down into her body, taking control of her movements: the poison of doubt. The ingÊnue sat there in her communion dress, the dress that she wanted to be buried in, to be pure and beautiful in preparation to meet her one true maker. She looked down at her gown, spreading itself out in the water like white algae. Its sheer draping turning translucent, thinning out under the weight of the water that submerged it. Much like her momentum was thinning under the weight of this forceful idea of a perfect, pure soul to showboat before the eyes of God – and everybody else of course. With calm and purpose, she had made the decision that after an albeit short lifetime of following his strict rules and regulations for a pious existence to please his majesty, that she would make the ultimate and final act of both defiance and of sacrifice. Committing a mortal sin in order to finally be put face-to-face with the man who had such control over her, and so many others before her.
15
S
he basked, eyes wide shut, in the calm before the storm of energy leaving her body. She opened them to take one last look at life and in doing so, a figure appeared next to her, cloaked in black velvet, his head adorned with a crown of roses. He took her face in his hands and uttered the four words that saved her soul that day. His face radiated light and kindness, she felt awash with love and she knew that she had been saved. And all in that moment, everything changed. He enveloped her in his engulfing embrace and she felt a warm, all encompassing love fill her body. It was a love and acceptance she had never felt in all her years of following the righteous path to redemption. She knew what her family would say, they would say she had been tainted by Lucifer himself. Was he an angel? She didn’t know but he smiled at her and walked out the door, his heavy velvet wings trailing after him.
16
S
uddenly the line between light and dark became two intertwined, creating this never before seen grey area. She felt the exciting notion of freedom flutter through her. One would think she might feel tricked, betrayed even, for being led down a path that led nowhere in particular; no, she felt only elation. She was relieved of her duty to try so hard to believe in scripture that condemned her for so many reasons -her gender, her feelings, her very nature- was finally over. The guilt that had been piled onto her frail, weak shoulders since childhood had finally diminished. Her controlling and tumultuous relationship with God had ended, and she was keeping the dress.
“He does not exist.�
20
21
F
eeling troubled? That cross weighing you down, perhaps? Bless me, darling, and I will forgive you, absolve you of the monotony of blind faith. Give unto me your troubles of a false idol and I will give unto you something real, something true. The gift of an awakening of the mind is the key to the heavy shackles, which bind you to your guilt. Come to me, as Christ redeemed. Get off your cross; untwist your tongue from catechisms and scripture you have been spoon-fed. Stand up and rest those knees, red raw and bloody from meticulous praying. They can’t exorcise this demon of heedless spirit, this tenacity for enlightenment. Allow me to be the scapegoat for your inquisition; I do not fear the notion of hell. I deny shame, guilt and fear mongering. I am told this means I deny Christ, draw from this whatever conclusions you will. You can’t bleach out the stain of doubt once it sets into the soft tissue of your brain. You can try to scour it out with repetition of prayers, you can try to cover it up with thick layers of denial. But why should you have to fight so hard against instinct? Listen to it; we are natural born interrogators of our surroundings and circumstance. Without the instinct to question, how could life have evolved far enough for a man to write the book that you devote your lives to? 22
D
oubt, suspicion, fear and instinct are all fierce threads woven into the diverse cloth of mankind. These dark threads looping through others such as faith, belief and longing anchor us down and keep us alive. Is it not sacrilegious to ignore these gifts bestowed upon us by the deity that tells us not to question his word? They come as a set; wear them together for they compliment one another. Claim back your soul as your own; you are not indebted to anybody. Wear it on your sleeve; show it off like a prize jewel glistening in the tightly shut eyes of zealots who continue to be blinded by faith, unable to see the beauty in what threatens their world. They need faith to make them numb. Disrobe yourself of the heavy, drab veil of oppression and resurrect your will to be happy. Remove that burdensome suit of armor that weighs you down to your pedestal, teetering on the precipice. Why don’t you join me down here? You won’t need all that corsetry to keep yourself together, unlace yourself and breathe. You were given the freedom of choice for a reason, this could be a test of your ability to use all your gifts. Adorn yourself in the flair and capability you have been given and wear it with pride. You bear your cross: I bear my soul. You wait for redemption: I’ll resurrect myself.
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Index of Saints The Creation Photographed by Heba El-Husseini in collaboration with Ray Choy Featuring Ray Choy Menswear & vintage womenswear Modelled by Sophie Nattrass & Nicholas Barnes Makeup by Heba El-Husseini & Ray Choy with thanks to Hotspur Primary School
Immaculate Mary Photographed by Heba El-Husseini Featuring vintage womenswear & Von Follies by Dita Von Teese lingerie Modelled by Frankii Wilde Makeup by Frankii Wilde & Heba El-Husseini
Baptism Photographed by Chris Bishop & Heba El-Husseini Featuring vintage clothing and Dr Martens boots Modelled by Paige Richardson & Ray Choy Makeup by Heba El-Husseini with thanks to Chris Bishop & Jessica Johnson at The Old Bakery Studio
The Redemption Photographed by Heba El-Husseini Featuring Jessie McEwan Insects Collection Modelled by Annabel Chilley Makeup by Heba El-Husseini