Listening to the Trees

Redwood National Park

Green © 2013 Bo Mackison

“A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

“So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”
~ Hermann Hesse

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Bo Mackison is photographer, book-artist, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Today I wandered through my many notebooks and journals, in search  of quotes about trees.

Integration – A Prairie Wisdom Card

Integration - A Prairie Wisdom Card

Integration – A Prairie Wisdom Card © 2012 Bo Mackison

Spider teaches you to maintain a balance – between past and future, physical and spiritual, male and female. Spider teaches you that everything you now do is weaving what you will encounter in the future. ~ Ted Andrews, in Animal Speak

The spider’s web is intricate and purposeful. It is a visual reminder that whatever is woven in the gauzy fabric of our past will have an influence – sometimes delicate or unseen – in our present and our future. As the central figure in our life’s web, we are reminded that we are the weaver of our lives , using the threads of our thoughts, words and actions.

“In each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We’re each of us our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real…” ~ Libba Bray

The INTEGRATION card offers activities for contemplation, art, and writing and a call to action:

  • Art activities: Chiaroscuro, an art term, is used in the above quote by Bray, a metaphor for the illusions of light and dark that make up the human spirit.
    • Renaissance artists coined the term “Chiaroscuro” to describe how light and dark convey depth and volume. The word Chiaroscuro is a combination of two Italian words. Chiaro means clear or light + oscuro means obscure or dark. These artists discovered that the use of shading and tonal variety gave a 3D look to a 2D object, transformed a flat drawing into an illusion of dimension.
    • Draw a line drawing of a simple object — perhaps a piece of fruit or a ball. Then shine a light on the side of the object and draw it a second time, adding simple shadows and highlights. Compare the two drawings.
  • Contemplative practice: Compare the differences, nuances, and depth of character between a two-dimensional person and a three-dimensional person. When is a person more likely to be less dimensional? More dimensional?
  • Journal prompts: In your journal, discuss how the combination of shadows and light affect a simple drawing. Discuss how learning about the dark and light characteristics of oneself makes one more authentic, more self-aware, more fully responsible for his or her actions.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Bo is creating a set of Prairie Wisdom Cards, second in her series of cards based on natural habitats, and used for exploration and self-discovery. The first set, the Desert Wisdom Cards, are now available.

Dreaming of Grasshoppers and Lions

Dahlia, Oh Dahlia

Dahlia, Oh Dahlia © 2012 Bo Mackison

 

In the dream, I rest under the red-streaked flower petals,
lean hard against the wooly stem, gulping air, out of breath.
The palms of my hands press deep, leaving imprints
in the sugary sap. A dahlia forest. And I am ant-sized

and suddenly outnumbered by a cloud of gray-headed
grasshoppers. Sap from the stem drips on me, thin and
opaque like school glue. The stem is a vertical rope
and I ascend, slide between the shivery-cool sheets.

A ragged grasshopper leaps high, plucking the lowest petals,
shredding them into flower confetti which falls to the earth.
I climb deeper into the flower as more grasshoppers
dance in wild catapults, flinging me about. The petals tremble.

And it’s a dream, yes, so as I spill out of the petals,
the roar of a lion frightens away the grasshoppers
and I awake, perplexed, then laugh amused,
as the cat’s tail flicks my face and he leaps from my bed.

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Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Apparently I have wild dreams about miniature flora while under the influence of pain medication. Hmmm. Hoping to get back on track soon.

Hanging On? Time to Let Go!

Hanging On

Hanging On, and Then… © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength.
However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.”
~ Ann Landers

The old ways are so comfortable. I know this.
I hesitate when told it’s time to let go,
take flight…where am I going?
The possibilities rise endlessly,
questions to ponder, details, details.
No time for planning, just let go.

The leaf releases, takes flight,
precious, brief, free fall, wind drift. Swirl.
Does it land upon the earth – field or garden?
Blow across the prairie, catch upon a protruding stalk?
Drift into the lake, sink to the muddy bottom?

Feed the earth, feed the garden,
decomposing, new earth, crumbly and nutritive?
Wither on the stalk, get torn apart by biting winds?
Sink into the wet, matted and slimy,
transform into a home, a hiding place, for tiny critters?

I let go of the familiar,
fly away with the unpredictable winds.
The future is unknown, my game of possibility.
Though I’d plotted my course, only an unexpected gust,
and I’m in new territory, unexplored places
frightening, exciting.

Oh, the challenges ahead!
Forward, then, with open eyes, open mind, open heart.

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Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Life is one continual opportunity for change – sometimes adapting to those changes is as adventurous as riding a leaf in a windstorm.

Autumn Equinox, Pomegranates, And a Welcome Autumn Ritual

Pomegranate, Split Open

Pomegranate, Split Open © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Days decrease, And autumn grows, autumn in everything.” ~ Robert Browning

The autumnal equinox, which arrives today, mid-afternoon, marks the time of year when day equals night, twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night, and when the Sun rises due east and sets due west. A time to look back at summer’s joys and anticipate autumn and the blessed times in the near future. (Awaiting arrival of first grandchild!)

According to Greek mythology, Persephone and a few pomegranate seeds caused the change of the seasons. The Autumn Equinox marks the day when Persephone enters the underworld, and her mother Demeter, in mourning, refuses to allow anything to grow on the earth (well, at least in the northern hemisphere) until her daughter returns in six months time.

As the myth goes, Hades, god of the underworld, kidnaps Persephone and takes her into his world. Her mother, Demeter, with the help of other deities, finally finds her daughter in the underworld. Hades unhappily agrees to allow Persephone to return to her mother, but only if she has not eaten anything while in the underworld. Unfortunately, Persephone has eaten six pomegranate seeds. Hades and Demeter reach an agreement, and Persephone must spend 6 months with Hades and six months with her mother every year. On the Autumn Equinox, Persephone enters the underworld and does not return until Spring Equinox.

It seems appropriate, on this first day of autumn, to gather the harvest and spend time in the kitchen. The tomatoes of all sorts — a few Big Boys, the last of the Romas, and a wild variety of heirlooms — combine to make a tomato sauce honoring the day. Instead of the quick sauces of the summer, I spend my time in the kitchen blanching, peeling, and seeding the tomatoes, then add garlic and onions, and long simmer until it’s a perfect sauce for the freezer. Late summer tomatoes are a such welcome treat as the daylight shrinks.

Giving thanks, too, for this summer’s remarkable harvest, delivered fresh to my door courtesy of my local CSA. (Thanks, CrossRoads Community Farms!

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Bo Mackison is photographer, book-artist, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Celebrating the Autumn Equinox with a freshly made batch of tomato sauce, a delicato squash pizza in the oven, and Green Bay Packer football.