Petroglyphs in a Desert Canyon – Interpreting Ancient Symbols for Personal Insights

Petroglyph Canyon Wall

Petroglyph Cliff in Sonoran Desert Canyon

“Men come and go, cities rise and fall, whole civilizations appear and disappear-the earth remains, slightly modified. The earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break….I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream, thought an illusion, and only rock is real. Rock and sun.” ~ Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness

Deep in a canyon in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, the cliff walls transition from red and gray striated rock to a giant wall of petroglyphs, figures pecked and carved into an ancient layer of the black desert varnish which covers many of the rocky surfaces.

Scientists estimate that many of the petroglyphs were carved from about 300 A.D. until 1300 A.D..

The Hohokam may have pecked these petroglyphs while on hunting and gathering expeditions, or during religious or other ceremonies. Perhaps they are solstice markers, tribe symbols, decorative art, or even an ancient form of graffiti.

 Studying these mysterious symbols, I began to wonder at the message as it was intended, nearly a thousand years ago. A message whose meaning has disappeared just as the Ancient Ones disappeared from these lands almost overnight, back in the 1300s. Some of the markings do align with the solar calendar – one spiral in this canyon is precisely half-illuminated by a slit of light as it shines through a split rock, This happens only twice a year – at the vernal and autumnal equinoxes.

I viewed the spiral on the vernal equinox and watched as sunlight illuminated exactly half the spiral. On the March day when it is half light/half dark. Twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night. Halving the spiral into equal parts of light and dark.

Snake Petroglyph

Snake Petroglyph in Desert Canyon

Each thing in its way, when true to its own character, is equally beautiful.”  ~ Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

What messages might you take from symbols as they appear in your daily life?

After researching these petroglyphs, I realized:

  • things are not always as they seem
  • that sometime, in the mystery, lies the unexpected answer
  • that I see/study symbols and may incorporate meaning as I understand it into my life

For example, the snake petroglyph is geometric and prominent amidst the other carvings. There is no way to know what the snake symbol meant to the ancient Hohokam. Yet I can make my own interpretation of the snake and its message, as it pertains to my life, today.

Snakes become dormant in colder months, expending little energy. They are summoned by the lengthening days, by the sun’s longer appearance each day, and they move towards warmth and the life giving powers of the sun. Snakes move in rhythm with the natural cycle, the natural forces of nature. I, too, am drawn to the longer days and tend to slow down as the days shorten. Or I seek places of sunshine, places and spaces that provide warmth.

The snake is of the earth. It crawls upon the earth, burrows into the earth for shelter, warmth, protection. I feel grounded when I stand upon the earth, and focus my energy downward, anchoring deep within the earth.

Snake is ruled by instinct for survival. I, too, live by instincts – some of which I follow, often finding my way; some which I ignore, sometimes to my detriment.

Snake is powerful, often feared, and sometimes is killed or hurt unnecessarily by people who are frightened and do not understand the ways of the snake. How does this relate to me? When I follow my passions, and insticts, take risks, do the unexpected, how do others respond to me? How does this affect my forward movement?

What might snake’s message mean to you?

Wilderness is not a Luxury

Desert Globe Mallow

Desert Globe Mallow © 2012 Bo Mackison

Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of human spirit. ~ Edward Abbey

The desert expands and seeps into my vision,
the floor is ocean, odd twisted creatures,
and the cactus-corals are prescient.

When the ocean — tiding by lunar pull — disappears
the desert returns, a remnant of ancient ocean,
fossil, a testimonial embedded in rock,
geologic band of aquatic life remembered only in stone.

I too will be remembered only in stone.

When I swim too far from the shore of this desert,
stray into the repeating saguaro-ocotillo wilderness,
I stop, afraid to cross the sand arroyo

Descend into this dry bed,
and reach the blooming oranges and yellows that thrive on the edges.
I take my chances, there are times I cannot manage.

Waiting,
shadows are longest when the sun heaves herself
onto the desert floor and again when she
slips off the desert and drops from the horizon.

Even the longest shadows disappear in the
blotting dark of night,
dark skies are coming — no
they are here.

This cold monument to the dark,
desert monolith, see the shooting star emerge from clouds,
momentary, streak of light, I blink and it is gone.
Or was it even there?

I rub creosote leaves between my index finger and thumb,
smell the pungent aroma of preservative,
lie down to rest upon the packing quilt, a U Haul relic,
and wait for the desert to spit her rain.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC, living and photographing in southern Arizona.

Wildflowers in the Desert

White Tackstem

White Tackstem © 2012 Bo Mackison

To see a world in a grain of sand
and a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
and eternity in an hour.  ~ William Blake

My first spring living in the desert, the spring of 2011, was a spring of drought and no wildflowers. The cactus still bloomed, and I was thrilled at the sight of those flowers, but I never did see wildflowers in the depths of the desert, and I saw only a few specimens in the various irrigated botanical gardens in the Tucson area.

So it is with great pleasure, this spring, that I walk on ancient trails in the desert and see splashes of wildflower color almost everywhere I look. Perhaps what is more amazing, last year I thought the desert lovely in its drought induced colors of browns and faded greens. I did not wish for more, because I did not know that more existed. I am glad I saw the naked, dry desert, flower-less, for that is the desert I fell in love with. And this year’s desert bounty, flowery splashes of yellows and oranges, purples and blues, is a gift unexpected, and so cherished that much more.

Jone's Blazing Star

Jone's Blazing Star © 2012 Bo Mackison

Here are but a few of the many wildflowers I captured in my heart, and also with my camera. I apologize now if I have wrongly identified any of these beauties – I suspect I will do so quite often. The desert in filled with wildflowers that I have never seen, no matter how common they may be to real desert dwellers, and though I enjoy discovering the names of the various flowers, I will make beginner’s mistakes.

Nevertheless, I always feel a bit more connected to a flower when I can hail it by its name and so I will make the effort to learn the native names, sometimes humorous, sometimes descriptive, sometimes vainly named by its human ‘discoverer’.

Notch-Leaf Scorpion-Weed

Notch-Leaf Scorpion-Weed © 2012 Bo Mackison

One thing I noticed immediately about many of the desert flowers. Some are very small, perhaps a half inch or less in diameter. A carpet of these tiny flowers is easily seen, but an isolated one or two are treasures easily missed. I discovered that by looking closely at the various surfaces in the desert  — rocky cliffs, gravelly washes, gritty earth stretching into the shadows of the mountains — I see wildflowers that could be easily passed and never discovered.

Poppies and Pollen

Poppies and Pollen © 2012 Bo Mackison

I am filled with great joy when I can simply be still in this desert, perhaps standing in a bit of shade of a palo verde or a mesquite, watching and listening. Where there are patches of flowers, there are frequently a few bees humming and buzzing about, each bee visiting the blossoms and dancing that intricate dance of pollination. Imagine being a bee and visiting an arroyo filled with the tiniest of these flowers. An endless undertaking, quite like counting the grains of sand on the desert floor.

I am filled with a deep gratitude that I have the opportunity to walk amidst the glories of the desert – in awe of this seemingly endless desert filled with the tiniest of gifts.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.