My Desert Office

Invisibility

“When I look in the mirror, I see a woman with secrets. When we don’t listen to our intuition, we abandon our souls. And we abandon our souls because we are afraid if we don’t, others will abandon us.”  ~ Terry Tempest Williams

When I am in Arizona, I often go to the desert to work. I follow my intuition and my need to settle into a place of sunshine, heat and silence, spaciousness and solitude. It’s not the place most people would choose as prime office space, but it suits me fine.

When I connect with nature, I experience a boost in my mood. My imagination switches to on, and I find my work projects more inviting. Perhaps it is simply a change in scenery. Some women I know find a quiet niche in their local library, head to a busy coffee shop to write with companions, set up a sewing table in the midst of their garden, or paint in a park.

But me? I head to the desert. I bring my backpack filled with writing materials and my camera, and settle in one of the covered shelters scattered throughout Saguaro National Park. These stone and “cactus-wood” shelters were built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), and still provide a shady place for me to set up my temporary desert-scape office.

If you are not finding the time for creativity, you are not finding the time for one of your main reasons on earth…to fully allow the creative force of your divinity to connect and move through you. ~ Jill Badonsky

The change of pace triggers the little child in me who says, “Yippee! I don’t have to work inside today!” Suddenly any resistance I may have brought along decreases and I’m more motivated to look at my scribbled to-do list–a very casual document–and choose an item that catches my attention.

I also give myself permission to begin by working in very small increments, especially if I’m considering a project I find overwhelming, technical or difficult.

“Just begin,” I remind myself. “Start working for just ten minutes.”

After ten minutes, I have already given myself permission to stop, although ninety percent of the time once I’ve gotten started I keep right on working productively. I have broken through the “get started” barrier, broken through the procrastination, the overwhelm – and I get my work done.

But if after ten minutes, I’m still looking at a blank piece of paper, or kicking my toe into the desert dust to watch it poof, or I’m distracted by the cactus wrens building a nest in the rafters, I change tactics.

Usually, when the distractions of daily life deplete our energy, the first thing we eliminate is the thing we need the most: quiet, reflective time. Time to dream, time to contemplate what’s working and what’s not, so that we can make changes for the better. ~ Sarah Ban Breathnach

I grab a tiny notebook and pencil and my camera, and I hike through the Sonoran Desert. I study the giant saguaro, I watch the tiny lizards scuttling from the shade of a boulder to the skirt of a low-growing acacia shrub, I stop and listen to the coyotes sing as they gather in the arroyo when the shadows lengthen.

If I need more time, more grounding, I’ll walk in the canyon deeper into the wilderness, and head away the few people who also walk the desert in the late afternoon. I might sit on a rock outcropping, and settle my feet upon the earth. If I’m taking photographs for a project, I take time to contemplate my surroundings.  Study the muted colors, the desert is awash in greens and yellows. The ocotillo’s bare branches swaying in a slight breeze, ten foot long sticks that will sprout green leaves after a rainfall. Birds chatter and swoop; ground squirrels chase each other.

The material of the artist lies not within himself nor in the fabrications of his imagination, but in the world around him . . . The artist’s world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep. ~ Paul Strand

As I pay attention to my desert surroundings, ideas pop into my head, often answers to confounding questions that I’ve puzzled over for hours. I pull out my paper and pencil to capture the thoughts immediately. Thoughts like these are as fleeting as the dream you remember upon awakening, but forget before your feet hit the floor.

I always write breakthrough ideas down, no matter how certain I am I will remember them.

Before I leave my desert office, I add a short note in my journal. This is my “ta-dah” list, a list that is the sequel to my “to-do” list. On this second list, I write down the highlights of my day.

Here is a rather typical ta-dah list from a desert office visit this past spring:

  • saw a bright red cardinal and it made my smile
  • wrote 200 words on the ‘courage’ essay
  • took some fun photos of three lizards in the shadow of a saguaro
  • walked the canyon trail and listened to the coyotes sing, wrote some poetry as I stood there listening
  • felt grounded and grateful

Red Rock Overlooking Colorado River Canyon – Wilderness and Beyond

Overlooking Colorado River

Red Rock Overlooking Colorado River Canyon ©2014 Bo Mackison

“But love of the wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only home we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need – if only we had eyes to see.” ~ Edward Abbey

Tenacity – Part I: Sunset Crater National Monument and its History

Sunset Crater National Monument

The cinder-strewn slope of Sunset Crater sweeps up a thousand feet into the blue sky.

Vincent Randall. He introduces himself in his native Apache language…my given adult Apache name means “Old Man Hunter.”

Randall, a Tonto Apache elder, has been coming here since the 1940s. He first came with his father in a 38 Chevy pickup… His people roamed the high country of this part of northern Arizona before they were confined to a tiny piece of land in the Verde Valley. But he says Sunset Crater remains a holy place:

“This is my people’s old homeland, you may have a piece of paper that gives you the deed which is a piece of paper that gives you the right to say you own this place, but in my heart, it’s still my land, it’s was given to us by God himself.

“One of the first things is when you enter a place like this you pray. Even today, I prayed this morning coming here.”

…from the transcript of Ken Burns’ The National Parks

Sunset Crater National Monument

Today Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument protects the Colorado Plateau’s most recent volcanic eruption.

It is the least-eroded cinder cone in the San Francisco Volcanic Field. The park is just a few miles north of Flagstaff, Arizona.

Sunset Crater National Monument

Part of what restricts us seeing things is that we have an expectation about what we will see, and we are actually perceptually restricted by that expectation. In a sense, expectation is the lost cousin of attention: both serve to reduce what we need to process of the world “out there.” Attention is the more charismatic member, packaged and sold more effectively, but expectation is also a crucial part of what we see. ~ Alexandra Horowitz, in The Art of Looking

Sunset Crater National Monument

Lava flows and twisted Ponderosa Pines © 2014 Bo Mackison

Most of the lava in this region is black, bubbly basalt, called a’a.

A’a starts as hot lava that erupts from the Earth’s surface. Contact with the atmosphere or water immediately cools the hot lava and begins a rapid hardening process.

See the dark horizontal cave? It is a called a vesicle.

When flowing lava was still hot and fluid, gas bubbles formed. Once the lava flow surface cooled,  then hardened, the gasses were trapped beneath the crust and formed a bubble. The lava hardened around the gases and a cave (or vesicle) was born.

Sunset Crater National Monument

“Much of the ground surface is covered by lava flows or deep volcanic cinder deposits; at first glance, the landscape still appears stark and inhospitable. But look again – within the dramatic geologic features are small islands of pine and aspen trees, desert shrubs, and wildflowers. These provide small but unique habitats for wildlife as well. Slowly but surely, life returns.”~ from Sunset Crater National Park publication

Sunset Crater National Monument

Cinder trail scattered with Ponderosa pine litter — nature’s litter – layers upon the ashy earth.

To walk this trail is to walk in a sacred space. Nature left to its own. Both the struggle and the survival.

Sunset Crater National Monument

Sunset Crater is one of the younger volcanoes in the contiguous United States and was named for its brilliantly colored frothy textures on the cone.

The last eruption took place sometime between about 1080 and 1150 AD, only 900 or so years ago.

Sunset Crater National Monument

Searing basalt lava and hot gases erupted from Sunset Crater Volcano.

The cinders on the rim of the cinder cone, bathed in these vapors, chemically reacted with them to form iron oxide, sulfur compounds, and gypsum The result — red, yellow, and purple basalt cinders which still color the Sunset Crater Volcano’s summit.

Chemical interactions, gases, fire and heat, a crust of ash and a’a. And still, the trees and plants grow. Life.

That’s the history and geology.

Next post is Part II. A different take on tenacity.

 

You Were Born with Wings – Fly Towards the Light

In Search of Light © 2014 Bo Mackison

In Search of Light © 2014 Bo Mackison

You were born with potential.
You were born with goodness and trust.
You were born with ideals and dreams.
You were born with greatness.
You were born with wings.
You are not meant for crawling, so don’t.
You have wings.
Learn to use them and fly.”

~ Rumi

Woundedness as the Source of Strength – Growth in Difficult Situations

Volcanic Tree © 2014 Bo Mackison

Volcanic Tree © 2014 Bo Mackison

Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not “How can we hide our wounds?” so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but “How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?” When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers. ~ Henry Nouwen

This tree is a testament to growth in the most challenging and demanding of situations. Growing in the volcanic ash, this tree survives. Not without cost. Not perfectly. But still it grows.

You might think that volcanic ash would not be a hospitable growing medium, black specks, supporting little life. Yet, once the heat of the fire of the ash has cooled, life gradually returns. With rainfall, plants begin to grow. Animals return to the devastated area.

Volcanic deposits can eventually develop into some of the richest lands on earth.

Nature does not hide its woundedness. But it serves as a reminder that, given time and healing circumstances, growth ensues. Life continues.