Ocotillo at Dusk

Ocotillo at Dusk

Ocotillo at Dusk © 2013 Bo Mackison

There is a simple practice that we can do to cultivate forgiveness. First we acknowledge what we feel–shame, revenge, embarrassment, remorse. Then we forgive ourselves for being human. Then, in the spirit of not wallowing in the pain, we let go and make a fresh start. We don’t have to carry the burden with us anymore. We can acknowledge, forgive, and start anew. If we practice this way, little by little we’ll learn to abide with the feeling of regret for having hurt ourselves and others. We will also learn self-forgiveness. Eventually, at our own speed, we’ll even find our capacity to forgive those who have done us harm. We will discover forgiveness as a natural expression of the open heart, an expression of our basic goodness. This potential is inherent in every moment. Each moment is an opportunity to make a fresh start. ~ Pema Chodron, from The Places that Scare You

This weekend I have set aside time to study the above text from Chodron’s book. Again. In this single paragraph, there is a lifetime of work. It is work that I have not only resisted, I’ve also refused to acknowledge the presence of the work, the need for the cultivation of forgiveness.

Today is a desert day, in the literal and figurative sense. I will walk the desert trails, the arroyos. Again, I will follow the desert lines of the labyrinth. I go in search of space and quiet, of brief exile–if only for twenty-four hours–in an attempt to move towards a portal leading to a fresh start.

—————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring creative photography and emotion in a  series called Desert Lines – a combination of visual lines and written lines. She is also walking the way of the desert, following its lines, in search of opportunity.

Creating the Future

Opening

In the Present © 2013 Bo Mackison

The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created — created first in the mind and will, created next in activity. The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating. ~ Deborah James

The word for desert is derived from the Greek word, eremes which, literally translated, means abandoned. The desert has often been described as a place where one meets life and death — face to face.

A place where one goes to face themselves. The desert provides a container in which one can eliminate distractions and experience deep encounters with the self. There is not much escape in the desert, though when I first made my frequent treks into the desert spaces, I felt as if I were escaping from many of life’s expectations. As I acclimated to the desert landscape, I found it was not an escape, but an invitation to dig deeper, to experience the intricate balance of life, death, and rebirth.

Every desert plant does the most intricate of dances to stay alive, to regenerate, to seed the earth and create the next generation of its species. Timing, luck, and chance weather play a part in the plant’s continued existence.

I once imagined I’d live life in the desert more as a contemplative than as a contributor. But contemplation, good for the mindful creation of dreams and goals, doesn’t have much of an action component. To bring those dreams to fruition — to allow the seeds to reach the earth, germinate and grow — requires workable steps of action.

I discovered that thinking and planning are only stage one. Stage two is active  — scheduling, meeting deadlines, connecting with other people, visiting sources, taking workshops, collaborating on ideas.

Stage one is necessary. Stage two is vital in order to create rather than only imagine the future. Action in the present is critical for the success of any plan, no matter how small or grand.

————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring creative photography and emotion in a  series featuring desert lines – a combination of visual lines and written lines.

How The Light Gets In

Cactus Scars

Cactus Scars © 2013 Bo Mackison

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~ Rumi

As I walked back to my car after walking the labyrinth,  I followed a path through the desert scape, winding around rocky protuberances, around saguaros. Walking the labyrinth was more of an experience than I’d anticipated. I left somewhat shaken, off-balance. Literally finding my footing on the rough, rock-strewn path required my focus. I stumbled once, but jabbed my hiking stick off path to keep myself from falling.

As I righted myself, I glanced to the side of the path. The sunlight streaked through the landscape, highlighting a fist sized wound in a saguaro. It was enough to make me pause.

The saguaro was three times my height, and had four or five arms; it was possibly two hundred years old. Numerous scars, cracked surfaces and more than a few wounds covered its surface. Yet the sun rays cast a luminescence around the cactus, casting shadows from its thorns, and leading my eye to the largest opening at my eyes’ height.

I thought of the quote by Rumi, the wound allowing the light to enter.

And I thought of the lyrics from Leonard Cohen’s, song, Anthem:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
~ from Anthem, Leonard Cohen

It made so much sense. The wounds, the cracks, the imperfections – they allow the light to enter, that’s how the light gets in.

————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring photography, poetry, and emotion in a new series featuring desert lines.

Attentiveness

Hanging On

Hanging On © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.” ~ Mary Oliver

Journal Reflections

A walk in the desert and I experience that same throb, a sense of wonder repeatedly. Walking in the desert is not exercise for my body – I hardly take a step before I stop to listen and look – but exercise for my mind, my soul, my spirit. I hike far enough so that I am there, alone. Only the music of the coyote song or cactus wren accompany my breathing and the racing of my heart.

I discovered something about my photographic habits a couple of weeks ago. Whenever I see something I want to photograph, I ready my camera settings and raise the viewfinder to my eye. If I see what I anticipated, I trill in excitement. Something like “oh, oh, oh” — always in triplicate. I do it without thought. When I hear my unexpected little song, I laugh.

So the coyote, the cactus wren, and the camera lady — we sing together in the desert.

 ——————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring creative photography. poetry, and emotion in a new series featuring desert botanicals.

Living the Miracle

Fishhook Barrel Cactus

Fishhook Cactus Patterns © 2011 Bo Mackison

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle. ~ Albert Einstein

I think there might be a third way that Albert didn’t mention– trying to live your life as if everything is a miracle, but only succeeding part of the time because our human tendencies get in the way.

When I step on a cactus thorn in my stocking feet…because I was only going to take a few steps on the patio…and my sandals were in the front room…and I took the chance that there wouldn’t be any wind-blown cactus spines on my patio…and the cactus spines won… Well, then it is a bit hard to focus on the miracle of cactus spines.

When I am taking a macro-photo of a yucca plant, and I’m moving closer and closer a few inches at a time, and not paying close attention to where my body is is relation to where the sharp points of the yucca are, and I jab my stomach into five yucca stabbers, and end up having to search for band-aids because my stomach has tiny, bleeding puncture wounds in several places…well, then, once more, it is hard to focus on the miracle of those heavily armored desert plants.

But, when I am looking at a fishhook barrel cactus through a macro lens, and I see the delicate overall patterns, and the overlapping stickers all aligned like dancers in a tightly choreographed arrangement, and the contrasting pinks against the cactus greens, then once again, I see the miracle of each desert plant.

The miracle of life.