Living an “Enough” Life

June 8, 2012 by 3 Comments
Orchids

Orchids © 2012 Bo Mackison

To do the useful thing,
to say the courageous thing,
to contemplate the beautiful thing,
that is enough for any man’s life.
~ T.S. Eliot

Do you ever find a few words of a poem or a quotation that speaks loudly to you? When I read the above lines, I was impressed by the simplicity of the verse, by the truth of those few words, and how difficult it would be to live life by this recipe. The paradox – too simple and too difficult, so I stored the quote in my notebook and moved on.

But what is the benefit of writing down quotations that speak to you if you refuse to listen? I found the quote again yesterday when I was preparing for this post. Again, the few words and the big message fascinated me. And this time, instead of turning the page, I wrote the lines on an index card and stuck the card in my pocket. And whenever I became aware of the card, I pulled it out and re-read the words.

Although I will deny it, I am often a perfectionist. Especially when it comes to reading great words of wisdom, and then avoiding the message because  I say to myself  “too hard” and “impossible” and “I could never do that.” If I could not always do the useful thing, nor say the courageous thing, nor see the beauty in everything around me, then there was no reason to try.

After I had pulled the card out of my pocket a half-dozen times, pondering its message each time, shrugging away the message, and returning the card to my pocket, I had a new insight. Eliot did not write the word always in his words. There was no always or never, can or cannot, do or do not. I realized that there was a middle way.

What if my goal was to do one useful thing each day, say one courageous thing (even silently to myself counted) each day, and contemplated one beautiful thing each day? That would be a great beginning. And, most important, it would be something I could do, something I could commit to, and something I could easily evaluate. A brief check-in in my journal each night would take only moments, but would give me a way of tracking my commitment, my progress.

So I have added T.S. Eliot’s advice for living an “enough” life to my to-do list. I find having an easy to follow guide, and an awareness of a plan, makes it possible for me to achieve goals like this.

—————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She contemplated the beautiful during the portrait session she did with these orchids, a gift she received from her daughter last Christmas.

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Awakening the Senses – A Photo-Heart Connection

June 6, 2012 by 22 Comments
Tucson Reflections

Tucson Reflection © 2012 Bo Mackison

Happy are they who see beauty in modest places. ~ Camille Pissarro

Beauty in modest places? Yes.

I went for an early evening walk in downtown Tucson just before I left Arizona to return to the Midwest. I was in a strolling mood, noticing architecture instead of desert scenes, and enjoying the many sights, the people leaving their workplaces, but with no rush to get anywhere. Rushing isn’t such a great idea when the thermometer hovers near the century mark.

I found beauty in the deep color of a textured wall, a red-earth color so appealing, I had to stop and not only photograph it, but touch it. Run my hands along the roughness, the ridges. That red, to my Midwestern trained eyes, was a Red Rock color, one of those desert colors that sang songs of the Southwest to me.

And then there was the purple-gray of the wooden window sill. So purple, I wanted to inhale its purple-ness, a purple so perfectly etched in my past that it grabbed a memory from my youth and held on tight.  It was the purple-gray of grapes fully ripe, grapes hanging in the arbor in my grandmother’s back garden. It was the dusty purple of grapes waiting to be plucked from the vine.

As I studied the contrasting colors, the memories came visiting. I was in the arbor, picking grapes just like my grandmother picked grapes — a handful for the pail and one to pop in my mouth and savor. I looked at the window frame and imagined my grandmother’s presence in the reflection, picking grapes just a few steps from where I stood.

—————

When I went through my May photographs, I stopped as soon as I saw this photograph. The day I took this photo was etched in my mind. All of my senses were on alert that day, intent on remembering a city that I would soon be leaving. The touch of the red-rock walls. The song of the Southwest. The scent of ripened grapes on the vine and the taste of sweet juice. And a sense of connection with loved ones, long gone.

Photo. Heart. Connection. Oh, yes!

I’ve long understood that when I carry a camera, that mere act heightens my sense of seeing. And now I’ve come to realize that my camera and photography can offer me another gift – the awakening my other senses, too.

——————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. During the first week of each month, she re-visits her photographs taken the previous month, searching for THE photograph to post as the photo-heart-connection photo. Bo is always quite thrilled when that special photograph finds her.

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Making Memories

June 5, 2012 by 4 Comments
A Place to Rest

Green Chair on a Porch © 2012 Bo Mackison

“You get to know the worth of a neighborhood by saying ‘howdy’ to the people who sit on their front porches on a summer’s evening. It’s all told in the ‘howdy’ you get back.”

– adapted from a frequent comment from my grandfather, Harry S. Wood, who spent many a summer evening sitting on his front porch.

This past weekend I was in the 57th Street Art Fair in Hyde Park.

President Obama was in Chicago for part of the weekend – his family home is only a few blocks from the art fair area. The University of Chicago is a few blocks the other way and it was alumni weekend. Plus, it was one of those gorgeous Chicago weekends in early summer blessed by the weather gods – sunny, a few clouds to make the sky interesting, mid 70s, no humidity, a sweet breeze off Lake Michigan.

Combine POTUS and his accompanying entourage, the requisite dozens of motorcycle cop and siren duos, a huge U of C alumni party for multiple class years, the oldest juried art fair in Chicago, and perfect weather. You have a recipe for one hectic, but fun-filled weekend.

The show was grand. Big crowds from the neighborhood, the university, the city. Smiling people, excited kids.

The 57th Street Art Fair seems to attract those who love their art. When I took a break to stretch my legs, and look at the other art, I visited booth after booth where artists and customers were in deep discussions about art, techniques, the state of the art world, the state of the art fair world. Truly amazing!

When the show ended each evening, I walked the neighborhood, still bubbling with excitement from the day’s show. There were so many conversations I wanted to hold on to, and remember. They were the stuff that makes being an artist on the art fair circuit a meaningful experience – the conversations, the real discussions about real art with so many age groups – from tweens on up, and sure, the sales were fun, too.

That is the beauty of art fairs, why I do them – the interactions and conversations between the artist and the client are true memory makers.

Thanks, 57th Street…

————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Bo so enjoyed her trip to the 57th Street Art Fair. The art and artists, the neighborhood and architecture, the friendly atmosphere and friendly people! What a great weekend.

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Learning to Be Astonished

May 26, 2012 by 6 Comments
Old Lace Peony

Old Lace Peony © 2012 Bo Mackison

Am I no longer young, and still not half perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.

from Messenger by Mary Oliver

How lovely is the above message from Mary Oliver’s poem.

Sometimes I read a poem, and it seems as if it is a message from beyond, or from the universe, or from a secret conduit from poet’s mind to my mind.

This happened today when I read Messenger.

Yes, I am feeling no longer the least bit young, and not even “half perfect.” Not that I wish to be perfect, for that does not sound like much of a life adventure, but I might prefer to be a bit further on the path than I am. I frown a bit.

Then come her words “let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work.” The worry lines appear on my brow and I start cataloging the many to-do’s on my unwritten list entitled What I Should/Must Get Done ASAP. I fret about work and time and commitments and responsibilities and my purpose for being one of the seven million plus  human inhabitants on this earth.

Then I stop, startled, and take a deep breath, no, several deep breaths. And I close my eyes for a few moments, mentally pushing away worry, though unsuccessfully for it will not be pushed aside.

I read the next few words of the poem . . . “my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.”

Ah, so I smile a bit and relax a bit and let Mary Oliver’s words push away the worry with much more success.

Yes, I have plenty of time to work on the art of being astonished.

——————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Sometimes she puts down her camera and reads pages and pages of poetry.

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Peony in Stillness

May 23, 2012 by 7 Comments
Abstract Peony

Peony © 2012 Bo Mackison

The need to listen carefully creates its own stillness. ~ Toni Packer

Quiet. Solitude. Stillness.

When I am out in my garden with my camera, I wait for stillness, for the wind to quiet enough so that my photograph, or at least the portion of the photograph that I want in focus, is in focus.

On a calm day, it is easy to take photographs outside. But on a breezy day, I decide if I want to add some extra work into the photography equation. From which direction is the wind blowing? Is it gusty? Can I block the wind with a building or a fence or the clear acrylic panels I built into a wind shield?

Some of the time, I choose to out wait the wind if it isn’t blowing steadily. And while standing or kneeling or even lying on the grass, motionless, that is when I begin to hear all of the sounds of minutiae. (Can I use the word minutiae in that way? . . . Well, I just did.)

First, I notice how incredibly loud the wind is, especially when I want it to die down so the swaying peony will stop its dance and hold still so I can take its portrait. But wind can be really loud. And of course all of the bushes and leafy branches are twirling about. Even the grasses I am resting upon are brushing against each other and sound like the swishing on a snare drum. Then I start to listen closely – do I hear the wind itself or only that which is tossed about by the wind’s movement?

And while I am listening so carefully, I notice all the other noises that I prefer to consciously block. The low hum of a neighbor’s lawn mower, a car engine revving as it passes on a side street, the loud thrumming of a descending airplane heading to a nearby airstrip.

Suddenly I am thankful for the winds’ blustery sounds, glad that its whooshes and whispers let me focus on the sounds in nature.

Eventually I get my photographs, one way or another, or change my plans. There is never a dearth of subjects for me and my camera.

———————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She has discovered that when carrying a camera outdoors, she discovers much that hasn’t a lot to do with photography.

Filed Under: Art of Healing, Photography Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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