Deyana Teeyl

Teez the Mind & Tizzy the Soul

Body N Steel

Body N Steel

Moans and groans, as flex and strength go to war against ligaments and gravity.

Tricks of flips, spins, and splits disdainfully ignore bruising, aches, and strain.

Epic daredevil stunts mingle with daze drop tumbles.

Combat with the floor that slams her body with cold hard humour.

 Ah yes, the pitting of body against steel. 

And of passion persuasion over disbelief rejection.

Bring it on, she grins in wicked addicted delight. 

 Photo by Alex Tranq

Photo by Alex Tranq

 

 

Epic N Idiotic

Concurring Queen of Epic N Idiotic

       “Come on Baby, let me take you to the top! It is spectacular!” says my man with adrenaline words and sparkling eyes.  “The top!”, I squeak when he points to the mountain peek that is so close yet so very far away.  “You have to go double with me and we must take the big sled”, he cautions.  Gulp!  That is all the warning I need to know that the climb will be anything but easy and will likely freak me out and suck the wind out of his poor lungs, cause darling, I got me a death grip on such crazy ass excursions.  He points out the route to get up there and tells me it will be fine just hang on.  Oh groan, those famous words of ‘hang on’.  The route looks ok enough, except for the part where you have a suicidal climb that goes on and on and on and….yeah, forever!  But damn it!!!  I want to be on top, see the snow covered world, and feel that epic rush of being that concurring queen of danger.  So with a determined shoving of all sanity reasoning I swing aboard his monster Skidoo, the king of the mountains.

       With a look back grin at me, we go shooting off the edge… Yup, the edge.  Because to get to the top we must first go down the ridge we are on, around the snow covered bowl, that holy shit, I learned was very tilted!!! And then up the suicide looooog hill.  Hill?!  Haha, how about snow covered cliff wall!  Grief!!  Do you have any idea how tippy these mountain monster sleds are?!  Or how aggressively persistent they are about climbing vertical landscapes.  Yup, I admit it, I most definitely have a touch of crazy in me.  I clung so tightly to him and used the most delicate of words as we leaned to prevent the sled from tipping and rolling us down a looooog, nope not a hill, mountain!  “SHIT!!!”  

       Yay, but oh no!! We were passed the tilted bowl where the delicate words had escaped my mouth and now we were at the base of the suicide climb to the top.  Suicidal, yup!!!  It looked so much more massive and steep and oh please oh please let me live!  But nope, too late to use my brain, too late to stop him.  Besides, cant stop when you are on the side of a flipping mountain with no where to go but up.  Turn around you suggest?  Ha!  Clearly you do not grasp the epic significance of our adventure… To turn around is to go over the side of the mountain, down, down, down, back to the land of trees, in a free falling death guaranteeing rush.

       I feel the motor under me give a surge as my man gooses the throttle, “ohhhhh”…use pretty words, use pretty words…  I cling, arms, hands, legs, with all my dopamine strength.  The sheer climb is unending and thank goodness I did not wussy scream to the top cause surely I would have run out of wind and passed out.  “Please don't flip over backwards, please don’t be a lily-livered sled and quit your battle to the top!”  But oh thank God, the monster sled king just growls at the mountain’s vertical challenge and makes it’s charge to the peak.

       Abruptly we climax onto the peak and equally quickly my man subdues our ferocious immortal brute.  “Whoosh!”, we are at the top and oh my is it freaky, scary, amazing!!!  He cuts the engine and the only sound heard is the fierce wind that is unhindered in its horizontal race.  I shakily climb off the beast and begin to step towards the edge… “Stop!” my man nearly shouts at me.  “What?”, I shout back at him and gaze at my snow ridge surroundings obviously oblivious to some unknown danger.  That’s when he points out that we are on the edge of a massive cornice of snow and he is unsure where the mountain rock stops and the cornice begins.  Ohhhhh!!!!  This time I keep my not so pretty words inside, but exist, oh yes they do!   What an insanely, maniacal, idiotic…epic, gutsy, wildly incredible…stupid ass endeavour!!!  Sigh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

       After we saver our panoramic lordship of the land and begin to get ready for our return trip, thats when comprehension seeps into my fuzzy, frozen brain… My insides start to do a flipping, spinning dance that is not a feel good jive.  With great trepidation I walk towards our skidoo tracks of ascension where they so violently disappear from my view and go over the edge.  Oh big horrified groan!!!  Ohhhhh, use pretty words, use pretty words… that is so, oh grief, steep!!!  And again names such as insane, maniacal, and idiotic come to mind.  Down?! Seriously!!!  We got to go down THAT!?  And down we went… Ok, ok, maybe a little wussy scream escaped my mouth on our descent.  

 

 

 

         

 

 

       

 

Stepping Into the Lights

Stepping Into the Lights

My first shoot, April of 2013, age 34….

       Here I was, oh my, sitting on a little stool, surrounded by lights, with a stranger pointing his camera at me.  My feet would not stop tapping their nervous tension filled beat as I turned my head this way and that trying so hard to produce a relaxed expression.  I was all prim and proper in my white silk blouse, far from the sensual style we discussed and even farther from anything sexy, which in my secrets of secrets I desired to explore and discover.  So sweet he was, working so hard using humour to calm my jittery nerves.  

 Photo by Maniac Images

Photo by Maniac Images

       After a bit he declared it was time for an outfit change and I scampered into the change room and slipped on something a little more me, my rainbow dress.  It was my twirly dress, still quite proper, with elegant class, but so beautiful.  To me it symbolized my new life, the beginnings of vibrant colours instead of my old fear filled existence of black and white.  How unknowingly perfect the image he created of me stepping from darkness into the spotlight and thus revealing the colourful freedom that was now within my courageous grasp.

       Courageous?  Oh good grief yes!  I was such a timid, shy, introvert, who hid in my house and suddenly here I was, gasp, before a man with a camera!  But there was this something in me, this desire, this hunger to taste the extrovert flavours and this sneaking suspicion that the spot light was where I belonged.  And what better place to discover this expansive character than through modelling.  So when my sweetheart photographer dude suggested another shoot, I lunged, I leaped, I dove at the opportunity to explore and play with this new woman I could feel was craving the lights.

An expressive, passionate, vibrant extrovert, woot woot!