Poppies in the Desert

Golden Desert Poppies

Desert Poppies © 2013 Bo Mackison

Notice how present a flower is, how surrendered to life. ~ Eckhart Tolle  

It is a beautiful place, the desert.

I never realized its fullness of life, its diversity
until daily I walked its paths,
treading on mountain peaks lightly frosted in mid winter
climbing in its washes torn asunder by summer’s flash floods.

Walking its rocky trails, aware of each footfall,
threading my way through a maze of deep crevices in the earth.

Reaching towards a saguaro to steady my bearings
only to pull back in mild alarm
imagining my hand pierced with the thorns of a saguaro.

Standing in its washes in spring, yes the desert has its seasons,
admiring the waving yellow poppies, their throats flushed with red,
their roots grounded in a chaos of rock and grit,
their silken petals a delicate offering amidst so much ruggedness.

—————-

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

Desert Labyrinth

Desert Labyrinth

Desert Labyrinth ©2013 Bo Mackison

Labyrinth, A Journey

I walk in circles, around and back, around and forth.

There is a beginning, a middle, an end.

Guided by lines of crooked rocks
and an invisible hand on my shoulder,
subtle pressure encouraging me forward.

Take one more step,
Make one more turn,
Move into the center.

And there I stand immobile, my breath fragmented.

The labyrinth’s center, a large pock-marked rock
laden with mementos and memento mori —
small stones, rings and bracelets, a dog tag, holy cards.

Center – the farthest distance from beginning or end.

And so I move on.
No longer walking a slow meditative pace.

I am anxious to leave, ready to bolt, disappear,
still
I do not disregard the worn path,
the unspoken rule of the labyrinth.

I stumble to its exit, blinded, my feet guided by the rocky lines,
and the labyrinth expels me from its sacred interior
into the other world.

The ghost keeps vigil, its eyes the eyes of the cactus wren
perched on the spire of a tree cholla.
Its whisper, low and moaning, travels in the arroyo
carried on swirling winds.

—————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She explores creative photography. poetry, and emotion in a new series featuring desert lines.

Adventure in an Antique Mode

Hot Air Balloon

Adventure in an Antique Mode ©2012 Bo Mackison

Like a shamanistic language, flight speaks in different idioms. We can blast rockets to the stars. We can race across the sky on fixed wings. Ballooning appeals because it is more languorous and low-tech; it’s adventure in an antique mood. What a treat to stroll through the veils of twilight, to float across the sky like a slowly forming thought. Flying an airplane, one usually travels the shortest distance between two points. Balloonists can dawdle, lollygag, cast their fate to the wind and become part of the ebb and flow of nature, part of the sky itself, held aloft like any bird, leaf or spore. In that silent realm, far from the mischief and toil of society, all one hears is the urgent breathing of the wind and, now and then, an inspiring gasp of hot air.  ~ Diane Ackerman, ‘Traveling Light,’  New York Times, 11 January 1997.

There are so many phrases in this quote by Diane Ackerman. I want to just pick them out of their sentences and fling them about, see if, perhaps, they will soar as they have my mind soaring.

“stroll through the veils of twilight” – rather like the slowing down part of the day, the time when you sit in the comfy chair near the fireplace and rest your head on its high back, and close your eyes so that you can take a short mind-travel of the day’s events.

“float…like a slowly forming thought” – I have more and more of those. The kinds of thoughts that if I hurry along, force out into the open, well, they are lost forever. I need to nudge those thoughts forward a bit, those thoughts that linger on the edge of consciousness, and then I let them rest awhile. I pretend I am only vaguely interested, and move on to a project that is more busyness than business. More often than not, that elusive thought gradually moves closer, until it is close enough that I can see more than just the edges. I capture a glimpse of the idea. The glimpse is enough. A little more time and the glimpse becomes the thought I once wanted to capture. It has come to me of its own accord.

“become part of the ebb and flow of nature” – well, yes. That is often my intent. I am happiest trekking through the wilder lands than walking along a paved sidewalk or doing business in a building where I feel cut off from the natural world. But the next part speaks even more loudly to me.

“become…part of the sky itself, held aloft” – What would that feel like? The experience of flying, of soaring, or circling the earth below, all the world held at a distance while I took enough time to gather my thoughts. And being held aloft? On what? Gentle air currents, pockets of weightlessness, invisible threads held by unseen angels. Oh, sometimes it is fun to let my mind just take off, and I follow along to see where it will take me.

“far from the mischief and toil of society” – Yes, some days I do dream of escape, of tucking a heap of insulation around me and resting, far from the mischief and from society’s expectations. At one time in my life, I was a phenomenal mind-escape artist. I’ve learned it’s more advantageous, more acceptable too, to take only a bit of a time out – perhaps a walk around the pond – not a long escape, but I still find myself dreaming of the quiet.

“all one hears is the urgent breathing of the wind” – Yes, in the sky, I would expect to hear the urgent breathing of the wind. Here, land-bound, I seem to hear the urgent breathing of the earth. How does one calm the earth’s breathing, soothe its shuddering inhalations and exhalations? How does one help the earth slow its breathing, how does one touch the earth?

——————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.Occasionally, she veers off course and takes a look at the world through a somewhat poetic view.

This is my October Photo-Heart Connection contribution. When a photo (and the accompanying quote) move me to consider my place in the universe, it is a truly heart connection combination.

Waiting for Silence

Prairie Rosinweed

Prairie Rosinweed © 2012 Bo Mackison

Waiting for Silence – A Poem

i listen
for the noise of daily life to subside;
for the voices in my head to quiet;
for the busyness of business to halt.

slowly i discover

silence is not…

absence

nothingness

absolute

Sun Salutation with Black Eyed Susans

Sun Salutation © 2012 Bo Mackison

silence is…

presence

cosmos

completion.

—————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She takes photos constantly, and shares them daily. She writes poetry often, but shares it infrequently. Today she is on her way to the prairie again – her muse for both photography and words.

With This Ring . . . I Thee Wed

With This Ring… ©2012 Bo Mackison

We gather together.

I.

Only days past the summer solstice, the sun
slides towards the horizon, but refuses to lessen its intensity.
Sun-glow settles on this gathering of family and friends.

Barest of breezes waft a flutter through overhead branches.
Leaf-shadows dance on the gazebo’s roof, on the white slatted chairs in rows
and rose petals are strewn on the stone path.

II.

We gather to celebrate the marriage of this couple.

The young man – our son, brother, nephew, grandson, cousin.
A loyal friend, one who offers a kind word and a helping hand to all in need.

The young woman – our daughter, grand-daughter, sister, niece, cousin.
A confidante, a true friend, loving teacher of the youngest children.

Hazy heat-waves rise from the dry grasses.
Bumblebees seek nectar in the nearby spiraea
and ignore the processional of satin red dresses and black tuxedos.

The groom waits in the shade of the gazebo.
The bride comes forward on her father’s arm.

III.

Time lengthens. It sharpens our memories,
intensifies our awareness, focuses our senses.
Vows are read, repeated.

We listen. They promise to love, respect, and be there for each other —
as best friends and wanderers – together – on this life journey.

We stand together, in affirmation, as Jeff and Sara pledge their love to each other,
each of us a witness to their promises, to their joy, to their love.

We watch as they each, in turn, slide a ring on their partner’s finger,
a symbol of their eternal love.
They whisper the words, “With this ring, I Thee wed.”

We celebrate with laughter, cheers, and good wishes:
the couple is introduced.

Mr. and Mrs.

Husband and Wife.

Best of friends.

IV.

Congratulations, Sara and Jeff.

—————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Bo left her camera at home yesterday, as Sherpa and she attended the wedding of their son. Later, Bo wrote this wedding day poem.

This is my photo-heart connection photo for June. I took this photo a couple of days ago as my son was showing me the wedding ring he was giving his June 30th bride. How could I choose anything else….