Boarded Window – Barrier Series # 2

This post is the second in my photo/story series on my journey of healing and recovery. See the introduction and complete series at My Healing Journey.

Warehouse in Winter

Boarded Window © 2011 Bo Mackison

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” ~ Viktor E Frankl,in Man’s Search for Himself

Cold.

Winter.

This barrier, a solid barrier.
No light, no sunshine, no blue skies,
nothing natural except the brittle vines.

Impenetrable barrier.
The frozen exterior the world perceives.
The bushes are skeletal in their winter bareness.

Dead vines cling to the bricks,
hang from the window’s edge,
collect in piles on the ledge.

The decorative bricks offer some respite,
though the window is covered with boards.

But wait, it’s been patched neatly, with blue painted boards.
Boarded closed, but with care,
Is there something inside worth protecting?

And the vines?
Dead for now, but the hidden roots,
alive, are protected under snowy depths,
warm enough in the warm earth.
These roots will send forth newly alive green shoots in the spring.

This phase, the deep winter of my spirit-break –
a period of dormancy.

A winter phase waiting for the thaw and spring’s return.

                 — based on journal entries, 1990

——–

The second barrier correlates to the time when I became unable to function, to keep up with life’s day-to-day expectations and demands. It was as if I constructed a barrier much like this one deep in my  interior, providing myself with space and time, waiting for the passage of winter and spring’s thaw.

It was a time of silent waiting.

Next: No Escape

Heading in a New Direction

23 Lizard in Bisbee Arizona

Threatened © 2011 Bo Mackison

Let go of the need for perfection – perfection bought at a high cost. Embrace imperfection, acknowledge mistakes, claim the lessons they provide. Embrace change.   ~ Bo Mackison

I’ve had an on and off affair with the label “mental illness” — a label that defined me for many years.

I hated it; I needed it.
I pushed it away; I pulled it close.

That label deprived me of the basic experiences of choosing life and living it fully; it also allowed me to abdicate taking full responsibility for my life and the choices I made.

Behaviors, lived over years, became habits. They settled deep within me:

  • as a child when I developed highly creative but pathological methods for body, mind, and soul survival
  • as an adult while I was in the throes of deep depressions and slow recoveries,
  • while I was fighting demons from my childhood,  searching musty rooms in my mind with a dimly flickering match light.

Defenses and behaviors I erected as walls of protection were no longer functional, viable, needed, wanted. Yet, it was what I understood.

I had to let go so I could grab onto a better way. Caught in the pause between the two trapeze bars, I was  dangling in a mighty discomfiting place.

Eventually I understood that letting go of the behaviors that mark even a functional mental illness would grace me with freedoms I wanted, but hadn’t fully experienced:

  • not as a child in a puzzling environment
  • not as an adolescent who carried demons in her hand luggage wherever she wandered
  • not as an adult trying to function in the challenging world of careers and marriage-with-children, while burying the past and eventually losing the ability to even acknowledge it
  • not as a woman in the prime-time of her life who suddenly crashed head-long into reality, suffered a total collapse, and a crushing breakdown.

I worked for years to repair my body and mind; I worked even harder to repair my spirit.

Living under the shadow of the statement “I had a mental breakdown” provides a certain cover. Even after the initial stages, after in depth therapy spanning two decades, and after reclaiming a life of wholeness, doubt lingers and unwelcome questions pop up.

There is the voice that harbors deep in my sub-conscience, occasionally breaking through to my awareness. It questions my actions, my motives, my plans, my challenges, my courage, my decisions, my art, my life. It questions my EVERYTHING.

I must then re-affirm my strength, stand on firm ground, and repeat:

  • I am responsible for my thoughts, my words, my actions.
  • There is no one else to blame for my failures, short-comings, errors in judgement.
  • I take full ownership of my mistakes and claim them,  but I also claim the lessons these mistakes teach.
  • This is no excuse living.

It is hard, excruciatingly so as times. It is necessary. It is the only way.

Because as long as I blamed the past for mistakes I made in the present, as long as I didn’t acknowledge the mistakes and accept them for what they were, I did not learn the lessons. I had an excuse to push away change and healing.

——-

Why am I writing about this? Because during the years I focused on creating photography for public display, photographs for art shows and festivals, photographs for art centers and museum shows. I also created photography and other art as a process for healing.

Creative activities are healing. I use art and nature as components of my healing practice. I want to share my art and my story with you, my dear readers.

————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  This is the first photograph in a series of twelve.

5th Annual Photo Alphabet – Part II

E is for Enchantment and Energy.

Enchanted Pool © 2010 Bo Mackison

Enchanted Pool © 2012 Bo Mackison

I find I am often enchanted by the things I see in the natural world. It can be as wondrous and rare as this Yellowstone National Park’s turquoise hot springs pool or as ordinary as the pattern of bark on a backyard tree, as uplifting as a hovering hummingbird sipping nectar from a garden flower or as down-to-earth as the cracked mud along the edge of a pond during a drought.

Having a camera available encourages me to look more closely at patterns, details, the ordinary and the extra-ordinary, but now I add time for simply being in my surroundings when my schedule is open. I find an earthy spot, get comfortable, and spend time in/with the natural world.

Motionless and close the earth, I gain a tremendous amount of energy by taking the time to be still.

F is for Focus and Framework.

Two Portals in Black and White

Two Portals © 2012 Bo Mackison

Focus is basic. When I take a photograph and I want it to resemble what I imagine, I pay close attention to the focus. Do I focus on only a part of the photograph or do I set the depth of field so that the entire photo is in focus? Do I need a sharp focus or a soft focus?

Focus is also one of the basics I consider when I am working on a goal, or choosing a plan of action. It helps me set a framework in which to work. It is impossible to know the body of knowledge on any subject, or at least it is for me. I am not a specialist, but a generalist. So I focus on learning a bit about many things and I don’t limit myself to a specific photographic genre or technique, to a certain style of camera or software.

I would rather explore, learn as I practice, and shoot whatever captures my interest. There is always more to learn. I will never want for a photographic subject to study or a new technique to practice.

G is for Gratitude and Gardens.

Two Benches

Garden Benches © 2011 Bo Mackison

A popular phrase, one that’s even been adapted by mainstream advertising, is “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” I have always liked the idea behind the words – life is a journey, one that follows a long road, perhaps, winding and twisting, through cities and through deserts, scaling steep mountainsides and wandering through woodlands, walking alone, running with a crowd, even standing on the side, unable to take another step without rest or support.

Recently I read another quote about the journey, one that I also identified with. Perhaps because I spend much time in gardens of all sorts, perhaps, because I concentrate on the noticing more than the going, it is a good fit.

life is a garden,
not a road

we enter and exit
through the same gate

wandering,
where we go matters less
than what we notice.

~ Bokonon

H is for History and Healing.

Half Empty or Half Full?

Half Empty or Half Full? © 2012 Bo Mackison

While I enjoy visiting sites steeped in history and reading about ancient cultures and traditions, I have learned that studying ancient cultures is one thing, but living in the past is an altogether different thing.

I can’t go back again. I can’t change what has already happened. The best I can do is learn from past mistakes, make a strong intention to not repeat those mistakes, and then live in the moment.

Healing comes, not from replaying old wounds and old stories or reliving one’s errors in judgement. Healing happens by working intently to learn from one’s mistakes and beginning each day with a fresh start, a day to be lived deeply and relished.

Part III of the 5th Annual Photo Alphabet continues with  iPhonography thru Muse.