The Affirmary


Welcome woman to my retreat, to the Boudoir of Bondaged Souls. You are here seeking an outlet for your feminine frustration, somewhere you may go where you can enjoy long-term respite from the battlefield of life. My Boudoir is this place.

Please, leave your leg braces at the door and distribute your weight evenly. The strength to carry your own body mass already exists within your frame, your external supports being unnecessary items that act as nothing more than medals for your deeper delusions.

Come, follow me to the Affirmary, a place where your dressings shall be removed and where a full introspection of your wounds may take place. Yes, the Boudoir is a beautiful retreat. During your stay here you will discover many hidden jewels within these walls, rooms that lead to corridors, and stairways that go both above and below, each one revealing an essence of self that many believe is reserved only for ancient mystics.

Now that we are here, make yourself comfortable, appreciative of the fact that the Affirmary will cater for your every need. As you relax, allow me to remove the bandage from your head and the patch from your eye. Do not fret as I do this because these symbols of suffering are nothing but a counter-attack on the enemies of harmonious thought.


Undress and submerge your body in the bath in the centre of the room. My staff will bathe your skin from head to toe, cleansing you with the mountain water it contains and washing you with dew collected from the gardens early this morning in preparation for your arrival. Close your eyes, focusing only on the feminine touch of their hands as they penetrate the epidermis, stimulating each sensory nerve that reaches for the surface. As you are gently washed down, know that the dirt of your mental trench is dissolving; the muddy trespasser that defiled your spiritual cleanliness finally being annihilated, the victory of newness a magnificent trophy that bears your name.

Stand up and accept the soft towels being wrapped around your body, a mothers’ embrace welcoming home her beloved daughter. When you are ready, come and lie on the chaise longue by the window where I will massage your skin with scented virgin oil, a substance pressed from red olives that grow in abundance in the groves of the Boudoir. Yes, it is a rare olive indeed, one favoured by monarchs and yet one their money cannot buy. Only distinguished guests of the Boudoir reap the rewards of the unique healing properties of the red olive, a gift to those whose appreciation of it endures a lifetime.

From the look of contentment upon your face, I see that you are refreshed and at ease, with peace covering you like a bridal veil. It is in this state that your mind is open to suggestion, so let us look at the next stage of your treatment.


Here, in the Affirmary, our healing methods are akin to those of an army commander: repetitive instructions that brainwash an individual into submitting to another’s superiority.

You are the commander in chief, whilst your thoughts are the troops that obey your orders without question. So far, the management of your troops has been ineffective. You have suffered insult and injury. You have become weary in a war that never ceases, always on alert and ready to detonate the verbal bombs that you stockpile with pride. What you must do is retrain and regroup the individuals within your troops so that their efforts are always aligned with the good, their highest ideals resonating with those of the spirit, and their fate geared towards the construction of humanity and not its unnecessary destruction.

Your troops – thoughts that march through your mind – require a leader who loves because this ensures harmony for all individuals. A commander filled with hate, paranoia, and other forms of self-serving fear pollutes the environment in which her troops function, reducing them to barbaric scavengers who fight amongst themselves, the strongest ones becoming brutal dictators who will eventually over throw you.


Your first task then is to appeal to the loyalty of your troops, to round them up into one whole so that their actions are in unison with your specific instructions at all times. Start by telling them that the mighty empire of the mind shall be rebuilt. Instruct them to put down their weapons because from this moment forward they are the peacemakers and the life givers. Accept responsibility for your role, for the manner in which you have confused and disorientated them, but assure them that the glory of life belongs to you all and, with their help, you shall deliver it to them.

For seven days you are to remain here in the Affirmary. Each day you will be given a statement that you must repeat from morning until night, making it the only dominant thought that resides in your head. Repeat it non-stop until your troops are chanting the statement with you, your dedication to their well being being the form of leadership they have longed for.

The first statement as part of this retraining process is this:

 “I love, honour, and value everything that I am.”

 I shall return to you tomorrow to set your next affirmation. In the meantime, make yourself at home and immerse yourself fully in the delights of the Boudoir, knowing that in these walls you are loved, honoured and valued for everything that you are.


And with this I bid you farewell.



(This story is from the collection Boudoir of Bondaged Souls, a multimedia experience currently being developed by Naked Raver, consisting of art, music, TV, and short stories. A selection of stories can be viewed here).

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Party of the Spirit

Like a Pied Piper I call unto you, And my song is one of Joy.”

 In 2002 I had a vision.

It wasn’t a passing thought.

It was an experience in which I existed on another plane for at least four hours.

It was the most amazing feeling I had ever had in my life, so much so that I accepted it as being real. When one hears, and feels, and sees, and celebrates………It is real.

Many people read about and aim to practice the Law of Attraction, the notion always being to get into the thing that is desired. In 2002, this term wasn’t as popular as it is today but, if I were to make reference to the Law of Attraction, I would say that I fully grasped the very thing itself and I embodied it in its whole majesty.

This vision, fuelled by a box of Philosophers Truffles and confinement in a police cell, took me to a place that I see is now manifesting in life. There was a DJ, a dance floor, cameras linked up all around the world, and a state of Happiness was forever declared for people everywhere. The vision was so real that I felt tingles run up my spine as people throughout the world cheered, and I heard and felt every beat booming forth from the turntables. I was locked into the Dj’s groove and he was locked into mine. The whole world celebrated. Together.


When I left the cell, I knew without a doubt that a huge shift had taken place in me. Maybe it is similar to the feelings that other spiritual visionaries have had upon seeing a great scene in front of their eyes, so much so that their life becomes dedicated to seeing the unfolding of this vision. It is a moment in life in which one knows there is no going back, and yet one also knows there is no clear cut path going forward.

This is how it has been for me, albeit underneath it all there has been a driving force, a passion so deep that it fuels me to want to know and understand more about the Principle at the back of all Life. It’s the same principle that many are trying to work with by applying the Law of Attraction, and it is the same Principle that gives rise to an inner sense of knowing in which logic has no part.


When Daniel and I joined forces as Naked Raver, we both came to a full realisation of what we have been preparing for most of our lives. It is like a marriage, a complete union, in that you know you are in it for the long haul. We never fully know what will happen – this is why life is an adventure – but there is an implicit knowing that what has been created via your very fingertips is what the world is subconsciously calling out for. Together Daniel and I have heard the call and what you are seeing here, as Naked Raver, is our response to that call.

If I were to sum up Naked Raver, I’d say it is a party of the Spirit, a celebration of the female aspect of our nature. The world is yearning for compassion, for love, for understanding, for laughter, for the sharing of resources, for practices that protect our environment, and for ones that treat animals in humane ways. This is the feminine aspect of our nature that is being called to the fore, the very simple reason being: ‘We know that it is right, and the time is now.’

Today I ask that you be beautiful. I ask that you let others in your life know they are beautiful too. I ask that you choose your words and your thoughts, and that you start to look at how, on a subtle level, you can create a better place. It starts with thoughts and words, for all of these lead to deeds. One may stand up and claim they care for others, but if this same person is generating thoughts of hatred towards another, then they are contributing to the cause of what is seen outwardly in the world.

Let’s embrace the feminine aspect of our character. And let’s start in the easiest possible way: with ourselves. You are a powerhouse, and you posses a Kingdom within. Govern it to the very best of your abilities.

Welcome to the party. Now let’s have a dance!


Joanne St.Clair is an author (Naked Raver, Statue in the Square, Costa del Social) and founder of Naked Raver.

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The Day Love Cried


It was one of those days where I awoke feeling that something wasn’t right. I was experiencing deep feelings, you know those ones that twist your stomach on the inside and give you a pain on the lining of your throat as though it is trying to swallow something harsh. It was a strangeness that is difficult to describe, as though all words are pointless in their desired effect.

I kissed my beautiful children goodbye, and bid a brief farewell to my husband, wondering whether it was ‘us’ that was the real issue or if I was on the verge of entering a stage in life of complete despair. But even these thoughts did not sit comfortable at my table, appearing as useless friends, mere hangers on looking for some sort of conversation which I was not willing to have.

It was early when I departed from the house, around seven thirty a.m., the only day of the week that I work away from the home, fulfilling my duties as a part-time lecturer at a local University. Although in honesty, this work role is more of a duty to my situation, the financial one, as well as to the combined vision for living that my husband and I nurture. And yet, on this particular day, nothing felt combined at all, more disjointed, shattered, broken into small shards, like a piece of ceramic that has been repeatedly hit with a hammer.

I rode the bus, as I always do, for three quarters of an hour, during which time my eyes felt continually pricked by tears that I refused to shed. I distracted myself by reading the rants and raves of others on my social media channels, but it all appeared to me as being such a huge waste of time, merely the digesting of words being shouted by people whose voices felt the need to say something, anything, just to affirm their own existence.

When I arrived at work the atmosphere in the staff room was jovial – it always is – and I must say that I was relieved to be immersed in it. Tuesday Girl is the nickname that some colleagues call me, with their smiles and twinkling eyes displaying a genuine gladness to see me. Usually my eyes deliver the same message to them, but for some reason it was sadness that called out from within me, a grieving sort of sadness that even the most adept at mind power and affirmative speech cannot conquer. And this caused me to question: Am I heart broken?


There was much laughter and conversation in the classroom. There always is when student’s work independently on their written assignments, and this proved to be a welcome relief to me. There is something uplifting about youth, especially late teenage youth, people who are in the transition stage from dependent child to independent young adult, those who are aware of the world albeit not in a way that drags their heart into its black abyss. People of this age are yet to launch themselves into their careers and ideals for living, and so display an innocent enthusiasm that breathes excitement into daily life. At least this is how it appears to me anyway, and what is life but our own observation of it?

Lunchtime came and I knew that I needed to do something different other than sitting in the staff room eating a baked potato with feta cheese salad. I knew that I needed to go to a town centre café to write and contemplate, my heart feeling desperately in need of some answers. And yet, as I walked to the café, to one of my favourite spots by a statue, those tears that I had held back all morning suddenly started to fall. I tried with all of my might to restrain them, but they were more forceful in their expression than was my will in its repression. And as the tears rolled down my face, I started thinking about all of the sadness which millions of people are subjected to every day, as though a thief has entered their home in the middle of the night and kidnapped joy from them; or an emotional terrorist, hell bent on destruction, has detonated a bomb causing one’s heart to shatter into oblivion.

Then I thought of mother and where she lay, on the floor grieving for her sight and the life she believed she would be living, her world now a shade of grey with half of it pitch black, her vision ruthlessly destroyed by beliefs that proved to be of detriment to her. As I walked I began to feel her isolation, her soul suffocated beneath its own despair, all hope for living crushed under the fatal weight of misguided Love. And my tears fell even more, the dam I had constructed crumbling away brick by brick.


I continued to wander aimlessly, along the street and in and out of shops, my body beginning to feel weightless upon my legs, as though I could pass out at any moment. I wanted to find a place where I could lie down and cry, for everyone and everything. I wanted to cry for the many mothers whose sons have perished in war, fighting for causes that have no cause other than power and financial control. I wanted to cry for the mothers whose children have been ruthlessly snatched from them, taken away as they slept in their beds just to be used as a financial pawn, sold off for a pittance whilst the women who fed them, who caressed them in their cots, who laughed with them and played with them, who picked them up in tender arms when they fell down – all these, and many more, precious and sacred moments between mother and child – snatched away so that the self-serving desire of a stranger can be fulfilled.

I felt the combined pain of these mothers as I walked, the grief in their dark eyes now my very own. I felt in my bones that we, as a world, have let these beautiful women down. We have taken their children and then told them to be strong, pull yourself together, and get on with it!

And again my thoughts turned to my own mother and her broken spirit. My knees started to feel weak, and I began to tremble. A passer-by stopped and touched my arm, asking if I was O.K. I tried to nod ‘yes’, but I could not even feign this most simple of words. And at that moment I crumbled into a heap on the ground, my dam having fully burst into a torrent of tears. Memories of eternity flashed through my mind. I saw starved bodies, alive and dead, in concentration camps in Germany, their looks of despair perched upon bony frames, everything taken from them – relatives, friends, clothing, dignity, respect – everything – and I knew that we, as a world, had allowed it to happen – not to one person but to many, young and old, male and female.


I felt a hand on my arm, and a voice asked, Can you tell me your name? I looked through water filled eyes, my vision blurred so great were the tears. I spoke not a word, because the memories continued to flood my mind. And in-between this deluge of remembrance, I embodied the deep despair of my mother – heartbroken, confused, lonely – and her face kept coming into my mind, reminding me that she was beyond my help, because the very thing she wanted that would make everything right was the very thing that had been taken away and could not immediately be given back, as though the elastic limit of bearable emotions had been far exceeded, even way beyond their scientific plastic limit.

I sensed there was commotion around me, in the form of observers and paramedics. My body was raised onto a stretcher and wheeled to a waiting ambulance. Several times a gentle voice asked, Can you tell me your name? Whilst another commented, I think she is having a breakdown. My inner voice asked , How do you confer to strangers that the grief of the world has come upon you? How do you enter into dialogue about a level of sadness that can only be conveyed via feelings? How do you talk about the place you have entered when it is nothing more than a vacuum of nothingness?

As I lay on the stretcher, my stomach pained because of its ceaseless pumping of the water well, I was instructed by my mind to focus on Love. And so I told it, there and then, that it was because I had focused on Love that my heart sobbed for the grieving souls of eternity. It was because I loved every single one of them, as if they were each a child of mine, that I wept uncontrollably. My tears fell for the torment they were made to endure whilst here on Earth.

I don’t recall much of what happened next. Doctors and nurses poked and prodded me, taking temperature and blood pressure, and asking questions to which they received no answer because my feelings were beyond their reach and medical expertise. I don’t know for how long I cried, but I do remember asking myself, What now? What becomes of me now? I have been blessed with great joy in my life, and I experience on a daily basis that wonderful love that exists between people. Yet here I find myself drowning in the depths of unceasing sadness, as though gravity is pulling me down to the bed of the ocean. And so, what now?


Blackness seemed to fill my mind and I began swimming, as if a sperm on its one and only journey, swimming in a darkened space, using all of my might to just keep moving. I hit a thick, cushioned wall, which I knew to be the egg that I was to fertilize. I continued swimming, never giving up but drawing on an invisible energy that did not come from within me, until I broke through the seemingly impenetrable wall. When I reached the other side, everything was silent, void of all sound, all thought, and all emotion. Reasoning and memory ceased, as though they were the outsiders, left on the other side of the wall, unable to break through the barrier that I had.

And here, at this moment, in this darkness, I knew that I was the new life. I was responsible for the birth of the new way. This was my lesson. I realised, in this moment, that profound joy and great sadness are the same emotions. They are Love in action – Love for the very wonder of life. People can only experience great sadness because of their infinite capacity to Love; and they can only experience profound joy because of their infinite capacity to Love.

I heard a doctor say, Give her a sedative and let her sleep it off. And as I drifted into a prescribed state of lethargy, an image of Jesus upon the cross flashed into my mind. I am not religious, but this symbol is potent, hence it did not surprise me that it came to my attention. And as I saw him there, strung-up, calling, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do, I instinctively knew what his moment in history represents to humanity. It’s not about a person or a religion. It’s not God or the son of God that we have crucified. No, it is Love – the sacrifice of Love in the name of material gain.


To sacrifice the beautiful and enduring essence of Love is to take the food out of anothers’ mouth. To sacrifice Love is to inflict sorrow upon another. To sacrifice Love is to bleed dry the heart of a stranger for self-gain. To sacrifice Love is to fatigue people in an illusionary battle of life until their pitiful calls for help are but a nuisance upon the ears of material progress.

Before I graciously submitted myself to sleep, I rejoiced at the fact that I was the symbol of the new life, because from this moment forward I could ensure that all of my actions were founded upon great Love for all, thereby relieving the suffering of some of the worlds broken hearted, whilst promoting and embracing profound joy with those who have discovered it.


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The Perfect Threesome


Cafe Naked, an original print available as an A5 greeting card for £4.24 plus shipping.

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A Vixen’s Alternative to Rainbow Coloured Hearts


I have spent many hours in the past visualising with typical symbols, for example using hearts to send love, and rainbows to fill my body with goodness. This type of creative imagining is all I knew sixteen years ago when I commenced my inner journey, diving wholeheartedly into a world that was previously alien to me.

Using the mind for healing situations works exceptionally well – the hearts, the raindrops, the bubbles, cutting chains and giving hugs – all of them powerful tools when time is set aside to meditate and utilise them. However, as Naked Raver, we like to devise new, alternative techniques that cut-through the charade in an instant.

Daniel and I continually grow and develop, understanding more every day about spiritual relationships and mental interplay, and how for the majority of people, simple and effective visualisations that get the job done are essential in their lives.

A recent experience has provided me with a wonderful tool that I would like to share with you. Without going into too much detail, I am owed some money for a window that a couple of children broke whilst playing. This was over two months ago, and one parent has always had reasons for not delivering the goods, in terms of “I’ll pay next week, Can you wait until the end of the month?” And, “I’m sorry but Ill definitely pay.” At one point she even gave me, in front of our children, her ‘word’, which I respected as a guarantee.

As the weeks passed, I watched her ‘word’ die its own lifeless death, and on Monday I knocked on her door. Huffing and puffing, at first she refused to see me, and then when I asked her to speak to me, she started shouting and saying that her daughter had nothing to do with the damage caused. I asked her why did she not speak to me sooner about this (even though her daughter admitted her involvement to others), why did she give me her word for payment if this is what she believed, and also what exactly was it that her daughter didn’t do: throw the golf ball or catch it? The mother in question had every answer, waving her hand in the air with angry froth oozing from her mouth, the moment to back out of the financial commitment finally upon her doorstep.

After informing her that her actions were ‘cheap’, I walked away from her aggression. I have offered patience at every level, I have kept her informed of the situation, and I even ensured that I used a local builder whose prices were the lowest I could find. If she felt that she shouldn’t pay, she has had since the middle of July to discuss this with me.

Since the incident on Monday, I found the situation playing itself out in my head as if it was on some sort of repeat mode. Inside though I felt that she had already received enough of my time and energy, and so when the slow motion replays of her continued actions intruded my head yet again, I knew that they had to go ……prompt.

Having been working on the Boudoir of Bondaged Souls series, as soon as I saw her shouting at me on her doorstep, her hands karate chopping the air, I simply took out a ball gag and put it in her mouth, fastening it tight at the back of her head. No struggle, just a firm decisive action. And then I imagined her sitting on a dining chair in her doorway, masking tape wrapped around her body and pinning her to the seat, her sound muted with a look of total surprise covering her face.


In this visualisation, as I walked away I gave a quick nod of my head in her direction, as if to say, “Now shut up and grow up.” This felt so good, but more so, within an instant the situation was gone from my mind, in a way that restored my mental power back to me. Since then, if she has tried to force her way back into my thoughts, instinctively I see her tied to the chair, ball gag in mouth, unable to move, the victory being mine.

This is such a wonderful, quick technique for conquering frustration. Do not approach it with a violent heart, but as a loving woman who simply needs to give someone a good telling off. This is what I gave her, reducing the situation to nothing except something to have a good laugh about.

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Cheeky Chuesday


Check out the Cheeky Chuesday archive here…..

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Informed & Guided


Naked Raver.…an adventure of the spirit…… a beautifying of the mind.


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