Magic Wand, Anyone?

Fairy in Light II

Fairy in Pink Light © 2011 Bo Mackison

Being in a place of uncertainty and edginess can be transformative. Stay with those feelings, even for a moment, it is actually a genuine act of kindness to ourselves. Though being compassionate enough to accomodate our own fears takes courage and feels counter-intuitive.  ~ Pema Chodron, from The Places that Scare You

The week between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day has become less of a resting space (as I had envisioned in my fantasies) and more of a deep-breathing-keep-calm-and-keep-moving-forward space. As the above quote states so very clearly, “being in a place of uncertainty and edginess can be transformative.”

Transformation sounds good. I decided to work on some organization during this less hectic time and made progress. I worked on the new timeline on Facebook, and surprisingly, I like the new feature. I’m not an advocate of most of Facebook’s improvements, but this seems to make things more orderly instead of more confusing. I spruced up my Seeded Earth business account on Facebook while I was there. Good.

Then I cleaned up my Twitter account. Removed dead accounts, added some exciting new ones to match some of my developing interests. Changed the background while I was changing everything else. Good.

Anticipating the change from 2011 to 2012, I made new photo sets in Flickr for the 2012 calendar year, moved older sets to a less visible place. Cleaned up some misfiled photographs and added tags to a few forgotten photos. Flickr is one of my most viable vehicles for new business, and so I keep my finished photos up to date. Each photograph is in an easy-to-find organized set. Good.

Late yesterday I opened my folder for art festival applications and took a deep breath. New rules. New definitions of digital vs. photographic art. Changed and now conflicting show dates. Show information that requires corrections and back and forth, back and forth emails. I started in on the paperwork.

Almost immediately I hit a brick wall. I must pick 3 to 5 photographs of my art to submit with the written applications. The photos are the primary source for the jury to judge the hundreds or even thousands of applications.  Those few photographs need to capture the essence of my art, and are ultimately the deciding factor whether I get an invitation to the shows this summer or I am told “sorry, please apply again next year”.

Of course, my inner critic needed to speak up. “What if the only jury liked last year’s photography?” “What if they don’t like the newer photos?” “What if there is too much digital manipulation?” “What if the jurors collectively despise the color red and two of the chosen photos feature red?”

Hmm. It’s like a game. I have to choose the application photos, and then be done with it. Once the apps are out the door, the decisions are out of my hands. Good.

But I’d thought the pressure and the to-do list was going to lighten this week, and that didn’t happen.

I console myself with the fact that I am doing what I love — taking photographs, creating art, showing it at festivals, talking to art enthusiasts about my techniques, adding new collectors. All jobs, including the work of artists, have the fun parts and the not so fun parts. So it’s time to pick out those photographs and get those applications off my to-do list. Summer will be here before I know it!

p.s. In the post I linked to my Facebook, Twitter and Flickr accounts. If you want to connect via Twitter, Facebook, or Flickr, feel free to follow any (or all) of the links. Thanks.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is in super-organizer mode during this short work week, and nothing — not even dreaded paperwork — will slow her down!

Remembering Moments

Remembering Moments © 2011 Bo Mackison

We do not remember days, we remember moments. ~ Cesare Pavese

Moments from the past few days:

  • Sitting in the darkness before the fist hint of dawn, tree lights on, absorbing the beauty of light and color.
  • Many moments spent adding tinsel to the tree, a strand at a time, and with each strand I expressed gratitude for one thing — big or small..
  • Telling my kids how I added tinsel to the tree this year, and then noting how they followed my example by saying a “thank you” every time they replaced an errant piece of tinsel from carpet to tree.
  • Following a long-standing family tradition, each person made hors d’oeuvres for the Christmas Eve table. No sit down dinner for us. The Christmas table is always a part of the entire evening. We opened presents, visited, slowly ate a delicacy or two from the table, revisited memories from Christmases past. We took our time and enjoyed ourselves.
    • When my kids were much younger, there was a variety of offerings on our table — mozzarella sticks from the freezer case at the nearby grocery, meatballs from the same freezer case, cheese and crackers. We greeted each person’s contribution with enthusiasm and love.
    • This year, the kids are all practiced veterans in their own kitchens, so we had true delicacies prepared with their hands and their love — Asian shrimp balls, pot stickers, homemade meatballs, oysters on the half shell and sauces, a plate of delicate Christmas cookies, and more. What pleasure to see how they have matured in the thought and preparation of their culinary offerings.
  • As I wrapped each present this year, I took my time. I thought of the intended recipient of each gift and sent an intention into the Universe for that person. For example:
    • If the gift was kitchen-oriented, I asked that they experience a sense of accomplishment while preparing food for their loved ones and an attitude of gratefulness for their food.
    • If the gift was a humorous book, I asked that they experience lots of joy and laughter in their lives, not only while enjoying the cartoons, but throughout their days. It made wrapping gifts a deliciously uplifting time.
  • A walk around the neighborhood with Sherpa, enjoying nature in the balmy December weather, and chatting about the day’s small events which, when totaled, make up the precious gift of our life together.

This truly was a season to be grateful for all the goodness that surrounds us, and a time to show our appreciation to family, friends, acquaintances, helpers — to all who touch our lives and humanize our existence.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is taking time today to give thanks for the little things and the big things in her life.

Endless Journey

Endless Road

Endless Road © 2011 Bo Mackison

Her thoughts followed endless roads.
Her mind created endless ideas.
Her dreams told endless sagas, no story line.

She felt out of context.
Small things were struggles.
She could solve puzzles if she had enough time, though there was never enough time.

She took herself apart and put herself back together.
There were left over parts.
How would she re-attach the left over pieces?

She wondered who she would be — or what — in her next life.
She remained hopeful.
She forgot to sweep the floors or polish the mirrors.
Crumbs collected on the soles of her socks, but she never looked in the mirrors anyway.

Her words disturbed the peace when she spoke.
Her words were the impatient part and never waited for her brain.

She lost important papers.
She didn’t watch TV.
She didn’t follow recipes.
She didn’t follow rules, well, not all of the rules all of the time.

Rules were tricky.
Boundaries were tricky, too.
Was the grass greener on the other side of the fence?

She kept busy.
She wasn’t bored but she did get lonely.
She was no longer desperate. She knew
hope. She could hold it in her hands.

She had a camera.

She took pictures and hung them on her walls.

———————

Bo sometimes writes poems, seldom shares them. Winter solstice seemed like the right time to share this poem.

Broken Stalks

Ice on Pond and Recent Snowfall
Strickers Pond, First Snow © 2011 Bo Mackison

How does one know if she has forgiven? You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstance instead of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than angry with him. You tend to have nothing left to say about it all. ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes

For many years, I had long periods of time when I felt like a broken stalk, a decaying plant. Blackened, brittle, beyond repair. Beyond care. I couldn’t access my soul, my spirit. I held the broken-ness tightly. It was the only identity I knew.

When I became interested in photography, it was a last-ditch effort to instill a daily routine in my life, a ritual, to focus on a reason to get out of bed each morning and look at the world. Really look at the good in the world, in my world.

Depression sucks life until everything gets covered in a murky, ugly gray. Anxiety turns that gray morass into a roiling fearsome monster. Photography became my potent weapon against depression, anxiety, even despair. Photography provided me with a physical way to add meaning to each day.

It wasn’t that I was not surrounded by a loving husband and family. I was. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the necessities of life and more. I did. But from that place of inner darkness, it was a struggle to appreciate the huge gifts that I had. Family, friends, doctors, therapists — all made monumental efforts to reach that dark place. With their help I made small gains, but I never felt like I had a “real” life.

Forgiveness is the economy of the heart . . . forgiveness saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred, the waste of spirits. 

~ Hannah More

One of the major changes in my life began with a small change in my day. I began consistently taking at least one photograph each day and posting it to my blog. My goal was to post a daily photo for a year and I did so from October 2007 to October 2008. Once I reached that goal, I continued to shoot every day. What had begun as a few minute practice became a habit and then a creative art, then a career and a passion.

I do not only think of photography as my art, my career. I think of photography as a cosmic gift.  As I pursued photography, it began to light my soul, lighten my spirit. I think it not coincidental that the word photography consists of two Greek words combined into one. “Photo” is derived from “phos” and means “light” in English. “Graphy” is derived from “graphi” which mean to write or draw.

“Photography – to write or draw with light.”

While I repeatedly created photographs, I also shone light into my inner darkness. Gradually the darkness lightened. The murky gray took on color. The roiling emotional monster began to quiet. I was able to breathe deeply, look anew at my surroundings, and see beauty everywhere — in the colors of the tiniest flower, the majesty of a century oak, the grain in polished wood, even in the symmetry and angularity of broken plant stalks on a snowy pond surface.

Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another. 
~ Jean Paul
Anger is a difficult emotion. It serves no purpose years after an injury or an assault to the mind or body. The anger I held so tightly caused added pain to me and the people I most loved. Yet I didn’t want to let go. I knew anger. I knew anger intimately. The burning fires of anger, so I told myself, kept me alert, kept me alive. And living with this anger also isolated me, which, illogically, gave me a heightened sense of safety.

But anger is a hard master and requires immense energy to keep it burning. I was exhausted. And one more thing, a very important discovery, I was lonely.

It was time to stop the constant longing to change the past. Time to stop protecting myself by maintaining an invisible fence. Time to let go.

People can be more forgiving than you can imagine. But you have to forgive yourself. Let go of what’s bitter and move on.
~ Bill Cosby

When I held so tightly to anger, I became strangled by its force. I wanted to be loved, but I was afraid of love. I felt I wasn’t worthy of love, that once someone loved me, they would discover the true me and leave me. I made plenty of mistakes, trying to protect myself while controlling everything and everyone around me.

In letting go of my need to change the past, I can work on today. I can work on forgiving myself. And ask for forgiveness from those whom I have hurt. I am learning. I still have much to learn.

It’s all journey.

Sparkling Lake

Sparkling Devil's Lake

Sparkling Devil’s Lake © 2011 Bo Mackison

A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth’s eye, looking into that by which the beholder measures the depths of his own nature.  ~ Henry David Thoreau

There are days where the clouds block the sun and the world takes on a somber mood. When the day is gray, it’s a good time to recall the brightness of the sunlight, shimmering on the lake. Sparkly bright, so bright I had to shade my eyes with my hand. I mostly photograph away from the direct light of the sun, but sometimes I like to capture the effects of the sunlight, especially when it dances on the waves.

I’ll hold tight these memories. Clouds may hide the sun, but nothing can take away that bit of sunshine I hold in my mind’s eye.

———————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Bo loves the warmth and brightness of the sun; she is learning (slowly) to also love the gray clouds and cold winds of late autumn.