Ocotillo Sunset

Ocotillo Sunset

Ocotillo Sunset © 2012 Bo Mackison

“Something has happened
To my understanding of existence
That now makes my heart always full of wonder…”

~ Hafiz, The Gift

I have desert dreams. They are not as tidy as I would like, but perhaps they are tidier than one would imagine. My desert is a tidy place with a tidy habit. No dense, tangled tropical paradise. In the desert there is room to move. Space for movement. But even more important to me, there is space to see.

Vision is not blocked by billboard or building. When I look, I can see afar. It is not unusual to look across the desert and see a mountain thirty or forty miles away. There is space to form thoughts, to search for answers. My desert dream affords me a polite habitat, nothing to tangle my feet and make me fall, no hidden roots to trip me, no overgrowth to hide my path.

There is room for all to grow, for me to grow.

In my dreaming desert, I do not cut myself on the spines of the cacti, the thorns on the shrubs and trees. I do not step upon desert earth that has rotted from beneath the surface, that gives way with the weight of my step, and sucks my leg into a gaping hole in the desert floor. The desert in my dreams has been sanitized for my night time journeys.

Awake, the desert is wild and streaming a series of ever more deeply saturated color. There is the silhouette of the ocotillo and its thorns, long and sharp. I watch the sun disappear, it drops below the horizon, and the layers of red, orange, purple linger until night’s arrival blackens the sky.

The sun sets. I breathe in tempo with the still warm desert. I inhale, the desert earth inhales. I exhale, the desert earth exhales. Heat stored in the desert’s earth meets the night’s cooling air, and the desert pulsates with energy.

Desert rhythms. I stand and watch, supporting myself with my walking stick while gripping tightly to my world.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She is in the Sonoran desert.

Pottery at Tumacacori

Pottery in Tumacacori Granary

Pottery in Tumacacori Granary © 2012 Bo Mackison

Courage is the price that
Life exacts for granting peace.

The soul that knows it not,
Knows no release from little things:
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.

Nor can life grant us boon of living, compensate
For dull gray ugliness and pregnant hate
Unless we dare
The soul’s dominion.
Each time we make a choice, we pay
With courage to behold the resistless day,
And count it fair.

       ~Amelia Earhardt

Fill one pot with courage, one pot with loving kindness, one pot with contentedness, one pot with a store of the sun’s healing rays…

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Bo Mackison loves visiting Tumacacori where she often think deep thoughts.

Shadows of the Olive Leaf

Shadows of the Olive Leaf

Shadows of the Olive Leaf © 2012 Bo Mackison

On my first full day back in Arizona, I spent the last hours of sunlight in the historic mission garden at Tumacacori National Historic Site in southern Arizona. It is one of places I visit most often when I am in Arizona – a tiny historic preservation of an 18th century mission church in ruins. I often find a quiet space – easy to do – and simply sit.

Take in the warmth of the lingering sun which soon will disappear behind the Tumacacori Mountains. Watch soaring hawks dip and slide on the  currents of wind. Listen to the breezes whispering to the leaves. Listen to the voices from the past, voices raised in chanting song. (I don’t have to imagine these voices – there is a recording of the hymns similar to those sung by the O’ohdam centuries ago. It lends a surreal audio experience to the already memory-haunting surroundings.)

I took a few photographs in the garden, but not one of a flower or a desert plant. I captured these olive leaf shadows on the bark of another tree, other trees ou of focus in the background, but adding another layer of shadow and mystery. I captured the blue waters in the silent fountain. A few cracks in an adobe bench, the textures of the hand fired bricks.

It was a fine first day explore of one of my favorite thinking places. Very quiet, a pensive place. This mission garden provides the perfect space for contemplation.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is taking a few days to adapt to her cross country move from Wisconsin’s snowy-frigid winter to Arizona’s desert-sun winter.

Filling Containers in the Desert

Pottery Row

Containers © 2012 Bo Mackison

In ancient times wise men and women fled out into the desert to find a place where they could be fully present to their inner struggles at work within them. The desert became a place to enter into the refiner’s fire and be stripped down to one’s holy essence. The desert was a threshold place where one emerged different than when one entered.  ~ Christine Valters Painter

Last year I traveled to Tucson, urban civility at the edge of the Sonora Desert, and ventured into the wild spaces, a bit at a time, a few steps from my safe haven. I had many goals, and I achieved many of them, but they were more a to-do list of photography related exercises, learning the routines of running a fledgling business, and practicing the ins and outs of living on my own.

I considered my first solo experience in Arizona a successful venture, but now I’m in a different place than I was in early 2011. I have new plans, new goals, new business ideas I want to put into practice. And I have a totally different agenda, too. I want to take specific steps to assess what I am doing, who I am, and who I want to be as I approach a transitional time in my life.

I will be going to Arizona in a few days. I will be asking questions, and hopefully discovering many answers and possibilities and options. When I come back to the Midwest in three months, I hope to have symbolically filled at least a few of the empty containers I am bringing along.

I’ll be working on this part of my journey – my desert days – and writing about my discoveries on my Seeded Earth blog. Maybe the seeds I planted last year will sprout, maybe even bloom, with the care I bestow on them this year.

I love the above photo. I photographed the original in March of 2011.

The photo reminds me of many things. First, these are containers for necessities. This pottery were photographed in the ruins of a granary at the Tucumcacari Mission in southern Arizona. Several hundred years ago, clay pots like these were filled with the autumn harvest and stored in the granary. The mission inhabitants relied on their stores of grains and other foods to sustain them through the winter months.

The photo reminds me of the simple things in life. Since I now have a place of my own in the Tucson area, I’ve made a commitment to maintain a minimalist approach while living there.  It is a small place, so I am making some no cluttering ground rules from the very beginning.

And finally the photo reminds me of change and the need to keep an open mind. When I re-discovered photography five years ago, I had never used a digital camera. My first camera with interchangeable lenses was a Pentax K-1000, a film camera. I knew film. I knew how to develop photos in a darkroom. I knew nothing about digital photography.

But photography is an amazing art medium because there are so many levels of expertise and so many options. There is never only one way to take a particular photograph. One can take good photos with the simplest of cameras and with a minimum amount of practice. But add reading about new things, trying new techniques, exploring the advancing technologies of photography software, and shooting thousands of photographs a year, and then the opportunities become inexhaustible.

When I first began taking digital photographs, I thought I would never use Photoshop — partly because I didn’t have access to a Photoshop program and partly because I had no idea how to use Photoshop. Anyway, I was busy enough learning the basics. It was actually a good move, though I didn’t realize why at the time.

The first year I went digital, I shot my photos, then posted them straight out of the camera (SOOC). Gradually I learned how to adjust the simplest components – color, contrast, sharpening, cropping. Finally I bought Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop Elements (the easy Photoshop) and began to explore the mysteries of post-processing.

And now?

Now I’ve discovered the amazing world of seeing a subject, taking photographs, and then bringing the files back to my computer where I manipulate them — without rules or limitations — until I again see what it was I originally saw. I explore the idea that what I see is unique and worthy of creation.

I’ve opened up a new world of digital photography and I’m learning anew by study and practice, practice, practice…while having a great deal of FUN!

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  In a couple of days, she will cross the threshold and begin her desert experience.

 

 

Last Visit to Tumacacori

Tumacacori Garden

Tumacacori Garden © 2012 Bo Mackison

Can you look past the electric wires, telephone poles,
the matching but separate doors labeled MEN and WOMEN,
the coiled rubber hose, the 19th century stone wall cracked open for a water spigot?

Don’t heed the red stop sign hovering above the mission wall
or listen to the rumbling cars speeding from Nogales to the Border Patrol checkpoint.

Cover your ears with your determination for a sacred silence in this sacred space.
Block the sounds of horns blaring, ignore the heated words of the couple standing near the rose bush.

Shhh.

Can you hear rustling leaves, whistling wind? Can you see the shimmer of the cotttonwoods?

These winds were in this garden. The trees now camouflaging the sparrows’ nests, they were here.
The fountain — the garden’s heart — it was here with its rippling waters.
The dust blowing from the Tumacácori Mountain Range – that dust was here.

Those mountains? They stood in silence and watched.
Arched doorways sheltered the walkway, courtyard sheltered a painted statue of the Virgin with her Babe. They watched.

The yucca were here, the tepary beans trailed along the earth.
The nut tree saplings, freshly planted, they swayed in rhythm with the winds. They witnessed.

The che-che-chee of the sparrows joined the voices raised in song —  of protest and praise, with humiliation and elation, in mourning and in gratitude.

Tumacacori Church Entrance

Tumacacori Church © 2011 Bo Mackison

I hear their voices, I hear the choir lift their voices in song.
Harmonizing
Chanting
The rising alleluias, the longing amens.

Their voices. Do you hear them?
Che-che-cheee-ing alleluias.
Siss-siss-siss, leaves dancing, twirling along the dusty path.

Tumacacori Interior Bricks

Interior © 2011 Bo Mackison

Hearts dancing, hold your gaze on the star hunter, poised, aiming his arrow at the full moon.
Hidden voices in the whistling winds.
Hidden eyes, watching from Tumacacori.

Listen. Watch.

Hush.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She will be returning to Wisconsin later this week after living in Tucson for the last two months. She’s been exploring Arizona and living life “solo.” Occasionally she is moved to write poetry, as happened when she took a last visit to Tumacacori National Historic Site.