Yes, These are Redwoods and They are Magnificent!

Redwood Abstract

Redwood Abstract © 2013 Bo Mackison

“The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It’s not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes, no, they are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time.”
~ John Steinbeck in Travels with Charley – In Search of America

Look at these trees.

Coastal redwoods stretching three hundred feet towards the clouds. Examine the details. Can you separate the grooved bark from the whispers of sequoia needles? Can you see your way to the sky? Can you hear their silence, your heart beating as you imagine standing in the red earth of ancient redwoods, peering at this generation of trees?

We hike the Cathedral Trail in Redwoods National Park.

Aptly named. Standing under the these giants, dwarfed and insignificant, this is more of a cathedral than any humanly constructed cathedral ever entered.

I creep into this time vacuum, standing with my palms pressed tightly against a tree’s bark.

I feel the heartbeat of the earth. Standing in redwood earth, crumbled mother tree from ancient days, her offspring encircle me. Nine trees in a ring, I stand and peer through leafy air, see only a suggestion of blue beyond treetops.

In rare sunlight, a potpourri of dust motes swirl about our faces. We are in the presence of the ancients, in a world we barely recognize. Silent soliloquy, the trees speak.

 In August, I stood in the redwood groves of the coastal California.

A Walk through a Japanese Garden

 

Pine Point in the Japanese Garden at Chicago Botanic Gardens

Pine Point in the Japanese Garden at Chicago Botanic Gardens ©2013 Bo Mackison

“The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry, of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the point as clear as possible: The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden.” ~ Thomas Moore

Crossing the Arched Bridge

Crossing the Arched Bridge to the Japanese Garden ©2013 Bo Mackison

“Japanese gardens ask that you go beyond the garden spiritually, that you look at the garden not merely as an object but also as a path into the realms of spirit.”
— Makoto Ooka in  The Temple in the House

Tree Roots

Tree Roots © 2013 Bo Mackison

“The garden reconciles human art and wild nature, hard work and deep pleasure, spiritual practice and the material world. It is a magical place because it is not divided.”
— Thomas Moore

Zigzag Bridge

Zigzag Bridge © 2013 Bo Mackison

“If you want to reach the infinite, then explore every aspect of the finite.”
–  Goethe 

Garden Path

Garden Path © 2013 Bo Mackison

“When a garden is used as a place to pause for thought, that is when a Zen garden comes to life. When you contemplate a garden like this it will form as lasting impression on your heart.”
— Muso Soseki in The Temple in the House

~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Strolling in a garden – a perfect way to spend an afternoon. Photographs from Japanese Garden, Chicago Botanic Gardens.

Journey – A Prairie Wisdom Card

Journey - A Prairie Wisdom Card

Coneflowers Along the Path © 2013 Bo Mackison

“We may run, walk, stumble. drive, or fly, but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey, or miss a chance to see a rainbow on the way.”  ~ Gloria Gaither

Not every path winds through a garden of purple coneflowers, a beautiful sight to enjoy. But every path has its own appeal — sights to see, places to visit, people to greet. Today’s journey may be a stroll through a garden or a walk up and down the aisles of a grocery store.

Today’s journey may be a cross country flight or a walk in the neighborhood. Today’s journey may be a journey in your mind from anxiety to calm, from boredom to engagement, from disappointment to acceptance.

Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you’re going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are. ~ Anne Lamott

Though life’s journey encompasses years, one  expereinces those years in months, weeks, days, moments. How are you going to spend these next precious moments?

The JOURNEY card offers inspiration for contemplation, journal writing, perhaps an art activity or a daily practice. How does it inspire you?

~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Bo is creating the set of Prairie Wisdom Cards, second in a series of cards based on natural habitats, and used as inspiration for exploration and self-discovery.

Meditation on a Lotus Flower and Change

Water Lotus

Water Lotus ©2013 Bo Mackison

…the best kind of change, is the change that comes from the inside and begins its way out until it emerges on the outside; a change that is born underneath then continues and spreads until it has reached the surface. That’s a true change. A powerful change. ~ C. JoyBelle C.

A few days ago I strolled the Japanese Gardens at the Chicago Botanic Gardens. I rested on a slatted bench in the midst of a garden of water lilies, sat long enough to watch the lotus, fully open, gradually close its petals as the afternoon skies darkened. I contemplated the constant flow of rushing water in the waterfall gardens. It was a cloudy afternoon, not hot though, as a breeze blew in from Lake Michigan. Fishy air is often a part of the Chicago sensory experience. It was somehow comforting, an in-the-moment connection.

I wandered, sat, absorbed, felt surrounded and held: as I centered myself in the gardens; as I strolled, hand-in-hand with my husband of 38 years; as we sent comfort to each other in our language of hand squeezes and quiet glances.

Sherpa and I had spent the morning with his mother. It was a morning fraught with emotion and change, one of those times in life when a major life change — deeply feared — was inevitable. We were there to tell my mother-in-law that independent living was no longer an option, that her medical situation now required a move to an assisted care facility . The move was no longer a plan in the future, it was a necessity.

As I gently told her she had to move, she expressed an array of emotions – disbelief, confusion, anger, frustration, fear, denial. I watched her eyes as we talked, as she realized we couldn’t change the plans. Gradually she realized her children, doctor and the administrator of her current living situation were in agreement – she could no longer live in her apartment.

“What if I refuse?” she asked.

I held her hand and said as kindly as I could, “That’s not a choice.”

I deeply empathized with M, perhaps because I have been in similar situations — times when I grasped that I was struggling, when I needed more care than I could provide for myself, when I refused to give up control but the situation demanded another person make decisions for my care and safety. For me, those occurrences were temporary. But the feelings of knowing that one has lost their basic, decision-making powers is deeply frightening.

I don’t think I understood that this awareness was present while I was speaking to my mother-in-law, but once we left her apartment, I knew I had to find a green space to walk and process all that had transpired.

The Chicago Botanical Garden was not far from our route home, and we stopped.

I stood in the grasses of the gardens and grounded myself, visualized sending an anchor deep within the earth, visualized a calm light surrounding me from above. Re-connection.

I contemplated the lotus, a plant whose beginning are in muddied waters. The plant sends up a stalk much like an umbilical cord, its leaves open upon the water’s surface, and the flower rises above the water, opening into a magnificent blossom high above the waters.

The lotus breaks free of its muddy origins and emerges white and pure, with a brilliantly yellow pod, a tiny sun.

Change. Renewal.

Sitting on a bench and watching the open lotus slowly close as evening approached, I thought about my mother-in-law entering a new phase of her life. It was a small comfort to realize that the closed lotus flower would open again in the morning, and that M would pass through this stage of her life and eventually move into a different stage, and into her own light, in her own way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. I am also daughter in law, and I have the deepest respect for my mother-in-law, doing the best that she can in a most difficult time.

Fog Across the Water

Redwood National Park -- From West Entrance to Pacific Coast

Crashing Waves ©2013 Bo Mackison

One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, “We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I’ll make one. I’ll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I’ll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I’ll make a sound that’s so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I’ll make me a sound and an apparatus and they’ll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.
~ Ray Bradbury, The Fog Horn

This is the Pacific in fog.
It was cold when I walked the shore.
The waves were menacing, thrashing about.

A sign on the beach warned of sneaker waves
and the death toll tallied, victims unaware of the power of surf.
There was nothing to see in the beyond.

Fog settled low. I stood
watching the shore birds fight over specks of dinner.

The ranger at Redwoods shrugged when I said
I liked the feel of the fog, like a shroud.

“It’s always like this. Might be clearer than usual.
Never see sunlight on this beach.
Come back, the fog will be here.”

Tide was rolling in, and the motel was 50 miles south.
I decided there’d be tomorrow for more fog watching.

The next morning the skies were a startling deep blue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  In August, I stood on the shore of the Pacific Ocean.