Journey – A Prairie Wisdom Card

Journey - A Prairie Wisdom Card

Coneflowers Along the Path © 2013 Bo Mackison

“We may run, walk, stumble. drive, or fly, but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey, or miss a chance to see a rainbow on the way.”  ~ Gloria Gaither

Not every path winds through a garden of purple coneflowers, a beautiful sight to enjoy. But every path has its own appeal — sights to see, places to visit, people to greet. Today’s journey may be a stroll through a garden or a walk up and down the aisles of a grocery store.

Today’s journey may be a cross country flight or a walk in the neighborhood. Today’s journey may be a journey in your mind from anxiety to calm, from boredom to engagement, from disappointment to acceptance.

Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you’re going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are. ~ Anne Lamott

Though life’s journey encompasses years, one  expereinces those years in months, weeks, days, moments. How are you going to spend these next precious moments?

The JOURNEY card offers inspiration for contemplation, journal writing, perhaps an art activity or a daily practice. How does it inspire you?

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Bo is creating the set of Prairie Wisdom Cards, second in a series of cards based on natural habitats, and used as inspiration for exploration and self-discovery.

From the Labyrinth – Part II

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Maiden, Mother, Crone – Entrance to the Labyrinth © 2-13 Bo Mackison

I walk again, collect the sticks loosened
from the oaks by yesterday’s storms.

Gather leaves. The first, a shiny narrow leaf,
The second, full with smoothed points, with a leaflet attached to its stem,
The last, a yellowing leaf, splotched with black, its edges withering.

Maiden, mother, crone.

Rows and Rows

Rows and Rows © 2013 Bo Mackison

From the labyrinth, the rows and rows
of sisters’ stones rise on the nearby hill, precise like soldiers’ formations.
The dead, in their final resting places, each marked with a rock and a name.

Once they dedicated their lives in faith, to love and community. Hard work.
What kept their faith alive, those that remained in their vows?

What happened to the mute ones, the angry ones, the hysterical ones?
The unwanted fifth daughter, the child raped by a neighboring farmer,
the daughter who ran from home with the rag and bone man only to return carrying her shame?

What happened to the ones with startling visions,
those who followed a calling they understood only in their hearts,
those who sought a home, any home, as a safe haven?

Did this sacred community quiet the demons that screamed when the women were alone?
Hold their visions in reverence? Embrace them
in their desperation and their joys?
Accept them with their frailties and in their strengths.

I hear their voices as I walk along the grassy paths.

Friends with Magdalene

Friends with Magdalene © 2013 Bo Mackison

One stone draws me, holds my attention. There lies a polished rock on
Mary Magdalene’s stone. “Friends” it declares.

I could be a friend with the ancient one, His Mary Magdalene, I think,
though I know little of her life, only those I learned as a child,
stories of her cryptic life, the sainted penitential prostitute.

I wonder what I do not know.
What of her story was lost in history? Or re-purposed.

Closing the Gate

Closing the Gate © 2013 Bo Mackison

The church tower chimes twelve times, noon
I open the gate, walk out.
Shut it. Firmly. Shake it hard to test its latch. I am shaken, too.
Bury my grief, and theirs, but hold their stories dear.

I carry their stories as I walk the cracked road.
The birds sing in the ancient oaks.
An acorn falls.

—————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Recently she has also been pondering labyrinths and journeys.

Labyrinth Visit

Labyrinth

Labyrinth © 2013 Bo Mackison

Shrouded in haze, the labyrinth,
in a barren place, air molecules heavy from a passing thunderstorm.
A few raindrops and faraway rumbling, then closer, long and onerous,
like a door sliding closed in the distant skies,
grating, heaving, cloud against cloud.

Turns on a Labyrinth

Turns on a Labyrinth © 2013 Bo Mackison

I draw close, hesitate at the labyrinth’s entrance.
I am here, I have yearned for days to travel the hours here, to walk the passage, and now
I stop, uncertain. What am I looking for? An answer? A calming? Reassurance?

Cracked Stones and Dead Weeds

Cracked Stones and Dead Weeds © 2013 Bo Mackison

I stop at the only tree near enough to study,
a crab apple, stunted in the shade of ancient oaks.
search its dead branches, its leaves a premature yellow,
faded, rusted with scab.

But on one branch there is a green twig,
a cluster of three pink leaves unfurling.
Peer at stones at my feet, uneven and broken, to regain my bearings
and a scraggly branch pokes sharply into my shoulder as I pass.
“Listening?” it seems to inquire.

Labyrinth Stones

Labyrinth Stones © 2013 Bo Mackison

The plastic wrist band from an earlier event
gouges my skin, the band a bright cherry red, blood-red.
I pull at it, but the security band has no give.
I read its black print, ignored earlier in the press of a crowd.

“Void if detached!” Void?
I am void if I choose to detach from this path I follow?
This walk, exhilarating yet difficult.
This path that questions me as I form questions to ask of it?

Ancient Oak

Ancient Oak © 2013 Bo Mackison

Nothing in the labyrinth appears alive,
shriveled brown weeds, crumbles of oak leaves,
worn stones, chipped and cracked.

The ancient oak sentry is dying.
There are no other’s footprints, only the circular
indentations of raindrops from last night’s storm.

A fleeting thought, the impulse to flee the necessity of loss.

Acorn Oil Lamp, Rusted

Acorn Oil Lamp, Rusted © 2013 Bo Mackison

Thoughts tumble in my mind. Who will reclaim this labyrinth?
Shine the rusted acorns oil lamps, trim their wicks?
These oil lamps, like rusty upturned breasts, no longer of use,
their offer of light in these shadows forgotten.

I walk the path. Towards the center. Wait and listen. Retrace the path.
Relinquish control so I can hear the whispering answers, accept guidance.
I walk the labyrinth three times. I wait.

Winding Road

Winding Road © 2013 Bo Mackison

Void if detached? I choose to not detach.
I am not alone. A few ants, a brown moth in camouflage.
I pick up a tiny white and black feather, a half walnut-shell.

I am in the labyrinth. Alive. Me.
I glance at a squared stone as I ready to leave. Clinging to its surface,
a bit of heart-shaped moss, bright green.

Alive.

—————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Recently she has also been pondering labyrinths and  journeys.

The World Within

Hibiscus

A World Within © 2011 Bo Mackison

I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.  ~Lillian Smith


Double Vision

Double Vision

Double Vision © 2011 Bo Mackison

I’m moving at a slower speed today, but I am taking in a good many things.
Seeing things not only once, seeing them over and over.
And concentrating on what I am seeing, feeling, doing.
Moving through the day mindfully, slowly.

Moving through the day in winter mode. All bundled up, and heading out into the storm.

One step at a time.