The Journey Between Two Homes – A Poem

Book Making in the Sonoran Desert - Flying Across the Sky

Dichotomy

Flying. I request a next-to-the-window seat. Always.
So I can stare into the sky, lose myself in thick cloud cover, or watch the country far below,
farmland platted in tiny squares, river snakes,
mountains erupting from plains, sunlight slides across the face of the earth, disappears.

I watch cities and towns morph into bullets of lights.

Each time I board a plane, I haul my soul into the heavens
breathe with calm intention until I reconnect with land, my return,
my soul again searches for desert red. And settles.

Book Making in the Sonoran Desert - Flying Across the Sky

There are no guarantees.
I came to the desert Southwest for its sunshine years ago,
sunlight that promised to flip a switch in my brain, drench it in
neurotransmitters, make smiling easier than weeping.

I come still.

For that sunlight boost, yes, but just as much
I come for the tree cholla with golden auras
gleaming in the waning sun, beyond breathtaking.
Reflection of sunlight burrows deep into my being.

Saguaro with a freakish coat of snow are as mystical.
Desert mountains – green riparian corridors,
yellow in a blaze of autumn sycamore leaves,
or black in the desert night –  all are my magical potion.

Book Making in the Sonoran Desert - Flying Across the Sky

I talk to trees. Tree connection is energy.
I rest my hands upon their bark, lay my cheek against their rough grain.

I have leaned the art of calming under the influence of this land –
sky islands stretch – from Sonoran Desert habitat, saguaros and mesquite,
to near alpine conditions, bald rock above the treeline of firs.
Like traveling from northern Mexico to southern Canada.

But always. Always.
I yearn to return to the desert floor, to the spaciousness
and solitude that warm my spirit.

Book Making in the Sonoran Desert - Flying Across the Sky

Moments measure time; maps measure travel.
As desert spring blasts its way into desert summer,
comes my time to leave the desert.
Each moment becomes more precious as I cross off the remaining days.

I spread maps upon my desk and ponder routes,
choose the blue roads, the dotted roads,
roads with mountain passes that may or may not be snow-packed.

I’ll take that risk. I travel the small towns and villages,
stay in court motels, feast at diners where conversation never stops.

This is the way of easing into my return.

Book Making in the Sonoran Desert - Flying Across the Sky

The journey. I anticipate it even as I mourn my leaving.
Anticipation and loss held simultaneously.
I’ll hold the days of travel in my memory,
scribble in my journal as I cross the country.

Place notes. A town and its motto, the population,
a story-telling hand painted poster in a shop window

The washes and dry river beds I cross.
Dead Wash. Red Wash. Car Wash. Dirty Laundry River.
Humor found in geographical monikers.

Washes disappear, meandering creeks appear,
then singing streams, raging flood-stage rivers.

As I travel, mapping the earth,
there is joyful, bittersweet.
Palpable. My heart pounds with unexpected sights.

I am exultant and saddened, hesitant and expectant.
I want to slow and speed time concurrently.
There is much to practice, this being in the moment of traveling.

Journey between two homes.

~~~~~~

Flying Across the Sky

Flying Across the Sky © 2014 Bo Mackison

There was an afternoon when the desert floor was still and heat rose like fire. I went to a nearby sky island to write and create…and to explore my desire to be in two places at once – to be in the desert where I feel a deep, soul connection and be with my loved ones in Wisconsin.

A book and poem were born.

Annual Alphabet Tribute to 2014 – Part III — JOURNEY through LIFE IS A VERB CAMP

J IS FOR JOURNEY

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Most of the month of May I spent trying to get from Point A to Point B. From Arizona to Wisconsin. The trip that was supposed to take a week took a month, and culminated with me finally calling in reinforcements to get me home the last 800 miles.

Not what I had planned. Not what I had hoped for. Not what I expected.

Glen Canyon Dam Overlook

And? I survived it. I actually had fun the first week, when the promise of a repaired car by the next weekend was still a possibility.

The second week? Not so much fun.

In fact, even reflecting on the trip and its endless postponements and broken promises…well, it makes me not want to write about it again. Don’t misunderstand me. There were parts of the month that were great. There were soooo many lessons learned. But much of the trip called on deep reserves of energy, and I think I may still be a bit trip-lagged after all these months.

So I’ll just say, I went on a trip last May. It took longer than expected and there were many adventures. For more details, check out the month of May blog posts. It’s all there…

K IS FOR KAREN

Desert Labyrinth

Labyrinth Connection © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.”
from an Irish headstone” ~ Richard Puz

On July 14 of this past year, my dear cousin and friend died unexpectedly.

Karen was the girl cousin closest to my age; we were fast friends from the time we were young children.

She loved her solitude in a way few people truly understand, yet she was one of the most generous, kind people I have known.

Although she worked in a bank in the days of the first computers —  when computers were so delicate they required special air controlled rooms, were often “down” for unknown reasons, and when working did little compared to the smart phone we now routinely accept as a part of our lives — and she worked with computers when employed, she never owned her own computer.

She didn’t have a Facebook account, she didn’t write emails, she didn’t have internet accounts. Her phone was just advanced enough to transmit photographs and send text, but she only did so on special occasions. But she sent cards for every imaginable occasion and wrote letters, long newsy letters.

In the past month, as I’ve been organizing my studio, readying it for a partial move to Arizona, I’ve come across over a dozen cards and letters from Karen — a congratulations grandmother card celebrating the arrival of my first grandchild, several thank you notes, Christmas, birthday, and several “hello, thinking of you” cards.

As I write my summary of 2014, again I am reminded how much I miss my cousin, once again I’m “thinking of you,” Karen. Missing you so much!

L IS FOR LIFE IS A VERB CAMP 2014

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I had the great honor and privilege to attend Patti Digh’s Life is a Verb Camp 2014 in November. There, a hundred wonderful people gathered for the second annual camp near Asheville, North Carolina.

We danced by the lake at the sun rose over the tree line and the fog hovered upon Lake Kanuga, crying and laughing and hugging and offering deep support and love.We struggled though yoga moves before coffee(!!!) and breakfast while the kindest of kind instructors gently, so gently, encouraged.

I listened to the key-note presentations of two of my poet heroes – Amy Shihab Nye and Ellen Bass. And decided I could call myself a poet again!

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We collected camp badges for doing things like showing up (which can be amazingly hard), speaking out, being ourselves, making strong offers, claiming our birthright as poets.

And I presented my workshop on Desert Wisdom and the Gifts of the Desert – what a thrill for me.  I so loved sitting in our circle and connecting with each other through our precious gifts of self!  (Though I find it almost impossible to comprehend that I did not remember to take a single photograph during either of my workshops. I’ll just have to hold them tightly in my memory — easily done!)

Patti Digh’s Life is a Verb Camp 2015 will be held in California at Asilomar on the Monterey Peninsula.  Serving up loaded scoops of . . . Community. Courage. Creativity. And Compassion. (Wouldn’t it be a fine thing if you were there?)

Annual Alphabet Tribute: 2014 — Part II (FUR FRIEND to ICY-ICE COLD)

F IS FOR FUR-FRIEND

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Welcome Grace © 2014 Bo Mackison

One of the highlights of the year was welcoming Grace into our home. Part lab, part beagle – Gracie is a compact bundle of power, determination, intuition, and joy. She the best gym-substitute ever — two long walks every day and never an excuse. And a faithful companion, ever at my side!

(Plus, when I cry or am feeling a bit low, she comes and — honest — rests her head on my shoulder and puts her paws around me…what a good, wise dog!)

G IS FOR GRANDCHILDREN

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Hello Wee One © 2014 Bo Mackison

Brand new grandson, born December 23 – nearly a month early. He’s a fighter, and such a sweetheart, even though he is a wee one! Loving this munchkin beyond measure…missing is cuddly little self and his sweet little baby sounds.

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Cuddle Time © 2014 Bo Mackison

And then there is my little love. Who knew, in just a bit over a year, one little girl could add so much love and joy to my life! Sweetness and Imp, combined! Precious love – grandmother and granddaughter.

H IS FOR HOME

Removing The For Sale Sign © 2014

Removing The For Sale Sign © 2014

This was the year of the cross-country trip from Arizona to Wisconsin that lasted nearly three weeks instead of 5 days. It was the year when, in a moment of whatever, I agreed to put a “for sale” sign in the front of my home of 28 years — the home I’d raised my three children in, the home that now had two studio rooms tucked in its rafters, a home surrounded by lovingly planted trees and beds of perennial flowers, and tiny gardens wherever I looked.

It seemed like a reasonable step in downsizing, the kids out of the house now, until…until I pulled up to the house after my epic cross country sojourn, up to the house with the “for sale” sign in the front yard — and I burst into inconsolable sobbing.

I stuck to my word for two weeks — two weeks of daily showings, constant cleaning and staging and putting away everything including pets and my coffee cup and any evidence that anyone actually lived in the house!

And finally, when I couldn’t be with the idea of selling and moving any longer, I said “I can’t. I can’t move. Not now.”

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Lavender in Bloom © 2014 Bo Mackison

And then I went outside and wandered in the gardens, luxuriated in the perfume of the lilac, while a conversation with an understanding realtor went on inside the house. There was the moment when he walked across the yard to where I stood studying the white birch bark.

“There are offers being written as we speak. Two, maybe three, this afternoon…”

I couldn’t answer. The thought of moving had become untenable. I shook my head.

And so they pulled the ‘for sale’ sign out of the earth in front of my home, and the understanding realtor said you have a marketable home so call me when you are ready and I’ll come back.

And so I hugged the tree nearest me. And cried in pure relief.

That is the story of HOME in 2014.

 I IS FOR ICY ICE-COLD NO-SUN-WEATHER.

Icy Cliffs

This is ice. Ice is cold. Ice lives in cold weather spaces, of which many are stunning in their beauty and bone chilling in their cold.

Ice itself is not the problem, Even cold, while not a best buddy, is not the problem.

The problem is what is what is not in the photograph. Or rather — the solution is what is not in the photograph.

THE SUN!

I don’t mind the snow, I can even deal with the cold. But my constitutional makeup does not deal well with cloudy days that extend into weeks and sometimes months. I wish it weren’t so. My family lives in the land of no sun and I like living where my family lives!

So there is a compromise. For a few months each year, when the cloudiest is at its peak, I head to sunnier climes. I do love the sun and the warm and the space, I totally admit it. And yes, it is hard to be away from family and friends for such long periods of time.

Life is compromise. Right? Right!

 

Annual Alphabet Tribute: 2014 — Part I (AIR TRAVEL thru EPCOT)

Welcome to my Holiday Tradition – my 7 th Annual Photo Alphabet.

I’ll be posting my annual photo alphabet in six parts over the next week or so.

I hope you’ll join me as I explore  a few of my adventures, travel, and life happenings from 2014 with words and photos.

A IS FOR AIR TRAVEL

Flying from Madison to NYC

Flying in the Clouds © 2014 Bo Mackison

Never a fan of air travel, I nonetheless took a high number of flights (for me) across the country this year. I’m happiest in an airplane when I have great cloud formations to photograph while flying and great people waiting to greet me at the end of my trip.

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Flight Delay © 2014 Bo Mackison

I am not such a fan when the Flight Delay sign shows up and doesn’t go away — though a friendly flight companion and a hotel paid for by the airlines goes a long ways to making the delay a tolerable way to pass an evening and a night and another day.

Flying from Madison to NYC

New York City from the Sky © 2014 Bo Mackison

Tucson, Arizona; San Fransisco; Salt Lake City; Minneapolis; Orlando; Atlanta, Georgia; New York City; Asheville, North Carolina; Newark, New Jersey; Dallas; Chicago. And many take offs and landings at Madison, Wisconsin.

Meetings. An Ordination. Vacations. Workshops. A Baby Shower. A Grand-baby Arrival.

All good adventures!

 B IS FOR BOOK ARTS

Title Page on Letterpress

Title Page on Letterpress © 2014 Bo Mackison

I love creating books! I love creating pages of books on the letterpress! I set the type for my Desert Wisdom Cards on this 1940s letter press.

Letter Type

Letter Type © 2014 Bo Mackison

Love the metal type. Love the clickity-clack of the letter press as each page is printed using a cylinder roll and a hand crank!

Flying Across the Sky

Flying Across the Sky Book © 2014 Bo Mackison

I made books during the whole year. Many of them had a desert connection, like book about the road runner. Many were very simple — often accordion books — that could be made in a few hours. Most of the books had a naturalist focus so I could remember details of the desert as I discovered them.

C IS FOR CHIHULY

Blue Fiori Sun, 2013

Blue Fiori Sun, 2013 © 2014 Bo Mackison

My favorite art show this year wasn’t in a gallery, but in a garden! I visited the Chihuly Exhibit held in the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix not once, but three times last winter.

Red Reeds at Twilight

Red Reeds at Twilight © 2014 Bo Mackison

The Botanical Gardens are one of my must-see places whenever I get to Phoenix, but this year I was drawn to the gardens over and over — just could not get enough of those art glass sculptures set in the natural desert setting.

D IS FOR DESERT WISDOM

Desert Wisdom Cards - Series II

Desert Wisdom Cards – Series II © 2014 Bo Mackison

In October of 2014, after many more months of photographing the Sonoran Desert in the Southwest, choosing themes and cards that “spoke to me”, I created a new deck of  Desert Wisdom Cards – Series III.

As I have said before, it was not my original plan to create a deck of only desert-focused cards. I’d planned a set of cards with four nature themes – desert, shore, prairie, and mountain – plus a set of source cards the combined sets based on the template of a tarot deck. But I couldn’t let go of the desert, and so these cards complement the first 2 series and there are now 52 desert cards. (Information on obtaining your own set of Desert Wisdom Cards here.)

This was my big art project of the year. I think the desert is now complete!

E IS FOR EPCOT

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Epcot in Rainstorm/Twilight © 2014 Bo Mackison

One of my favorite things to do is to drop everything and go on vacation with one of my kids when they call and say, “Mom, do you want to go with me to _______?”

My answer is a resounding YES!

And so the allure of Epcot and the Annual Wine and Food Festival called to my youngest and I tagged happily along. Florida in September is…thunderstorm-y and wet — but only in the afternoon (and on a few select evenings!) We were there at the end of September so we not only enjoyed the Food Festival, but the Halloween Party was in full swing, too.

It’s a good thing to add fun and play to the year, and a trip that involved family, food and wine (and tequila), Halloween fireworks, and roller-coasters? Perfect for that smile factor boost!

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Coming up next: the Alphabet Part II — Fur Friends through Journey

 

 

An Interlude in Travel; Expounding on Spring in Wisconsin

Silver Drift Ornamental Crabapple

Silver Drift Crabapple © 2013 Bo Mackison

There are bugs, no-see-ums, in Wisconsin.
There are crab apple trees so heavy with white blossoms you know they are really
floral bouquets gently swaying on the earth, in Wisconsin.

There are skies dense with clouds, white, gray, pink, puffy, dense, beribboned, in Wisconsin.
The red maple stands tall, branches widespread, deep in greening leaves, sturdy, in Wisconsin.
There are tiny bugs that buzz about my ears, in Wisconsin.

The rain pounds the earth, sheets of water, and thunder snap crackles,
The rain barrel is overflowing, in Wisconsin.
Gnats swarm in my eyes, follow me in a haze of flight as I dodge and swat, in Wisconsin.

The yard is green, abundantly so, not cultivated,
we chuck the hang tags from the pesticide companies,
greens of clover, purple and white violets, and wildly growing,
rampant spreads of escape-artist mint.
I pick the mint sometimes, the runners squirm loose from the earth with a tug, in Wisconsin.

The paper birch is pregnant with leaves, they drag upon the grassy understory, hide the neighbor’s yard from view, in Wisconsin.
Its bark once pale and baby skin smooth those many years ago
when we dug a hole and set it in the black earth,
the bark’s now rough and deeply textured, full of character like its caretakers, in Wisconsin.

The moss creeps between the flagstone, a tiny community for ants and beetles,
littered with maple spinners and bits of dried purple scent
from the overhanging lilac, in Wisconsin.

Two ashes we planted a quarter century ago began as sticks,
each with a lesser god’s headdress of leaf, and now
they rise taller than our two-story home, in Wisconsin.

The hummingbird feeder has fresh nectar, but the sighting of a hummer
is a rare treat, in Wisconsin.

The perennial garden we planned, painstakingly mapping color and height,
bloom time and sequence, it weathered the harsh winter with fair results, in Wisconsin.
The pink spikes of the coral bells wave two feet above its fluff of purple leaves,
but nothing else is yet in bud. There are spaces now for three or four new sets of plants.
The ornamental grasses and lavender were lost to winter’s brutal cold, in Wisconsin.

I dawdled this year,
unwilling to leave Arizona for the greener spaces, of Wisconsin.

There was work to finish, meetings to attend, and the lure of the desert remained strong.
I watched the saguaros bloom. I lingered.

I wasn’t ready to depart, and then I was.

Fate had other plans. A disabled car 300 miles down the road
and an engine overhaul, delayed parts,
led to weeks of side adventures into red rock wilderness and the Grand Canyon.

When I return to get my car,
I’m told there is another week’s delay, it is the same day Slide Fire begins
scorching beloved Oak Canyon, and a pyrotechnic smoke show hovers over Flagstaff for days.

Fire, twenty miles distant, throws up orange walls of smoke to the south of town,
obliterates the San Francisco Peaks to the north. They stand, shrouded in gray.
And then a black looming cloud, reminiscent of sci-fi saucers, settles on this city of 70,000, and blots out the sun. We breathe through makeshift masks, in Arizona.

The blooms are late-coming this year as was I, to Wisconsin.
Respite from my travel, the lilacs and crab apples, the dogwoods and magnolias in flower.

The sandhill crane, squawking its rattly ka-roo-roo, flies over my home, in Wisconsin.