To Walk in Solitude, To Listen to Silence

Walking Down Old Baldy

Walking Old Baldy ©2010 Bo Mackison

The more zigzag the way, the deeper the scenery.
The winding path approaches the secluded and peaceful place.
~ Huáng Bīnhóng

Reflecting on what silence looks like. I ponder what a photograph of silence might look like, and then wander (apt word) through a few of my photo catalogs. I’m drawn to the many photos of paths or trails leading into wilderness areas, paths I walked alone in silence. A meditative kind of walking.

Whether I am walking along a sand dune, part worn boardwalk and part shifting sand . . . or through a green forest, thick with green vegetation, towering leafy trees, wildflowers sprinkling pastel colors amidst my feet . . . or tramping on a desert trail, worn deeply into the side of a mountain, stretching through stands of cactus, climbing over piles of tumbled rock . . . or strolling on the smooth pavement in a tended garden, walking further and further away from the crowds, deep into the recesses where few wander, but joy is found . . . or hiking along a snaking path through the wilderness of badlands, a barren maze of eroded land, ridges, peaks, and mesas — all of these I walk in silence.

I listen to the silence, for silence has a sound. I seek answers to questions and perhaps I’ll figure out an answer or two.  Or I simply consider the questions and seek no answers, the easier way to discovery is often simply listening.

Forest Path

Forest Path ©2011 Bo Mackison

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle.
But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air,
but to walk on earth.
Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize:
a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black,
curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes.
All is a miracle.”
~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Cactus, Rock and the Trail

Cactus, Rock, Trail ©2012 Bo Mackison

“Walking is the great adventure,
the first meditation,
a practice of heartiness and soul primary to humankind.
Walking is the exact balance between spirit and humility.”
~ Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild

There Was a Crooked Path

There Was a Crooked Path © 2011 Bo Mackison

“A fact bobbed up from my memory,
that the ancient Egyptians prescribed walking through a garden
as a cure for the mad.
It was a mind-altering drug we took daily.

~ Paul Fleischman, in Seedfolks

Storm Approaching

Organ Pipe Path ©2012 Bo Mackison

Our way is not soft grass,
it’s a mountain path with lots of rocks.
But it goes upward, forward,
towards the hidden sun.
~ Ruth Westheimer

Badlands-Two Trees

Two Trees in the Badlands © 2011 Bo Mackison

That’s the best thing about walking, the journey itself.
It doesn’t matter much whether you get where you’re going or not.
You’ll get there anyway.
Every good hike brings you eventually back home. ~ Edward Abbey

I find my way through the wilderness and eventually back home.

 

Thorny Issue

Thorny Issue

Thorny Issue © 2008 Bo Mackison

Thorny issues?
Thick thorned branches cut off my path.
Cobwebs patched between the barrier.

But deep in the woods,
the colors were brushed with swirling
purples, mauves, and cool blue-greens.

Reminiscent of a satin quilt
I slept under as a young child.
A bit of sun in an opening in the tree canopy.

Quiet, though.
The birds were silent.
The breezes were holding silent.

I held my breath, silent also.

Taps at Moon Rise

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Moonrise at Twilight © 2007

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh. ~ ‘Taps’

This late October’s full moon is known as the Hunter’s Moon. The moon rise reminded me of the lyrics from the well-known military song, ‘Taps’.

Taken at Indian Lake County Park in Dane County, Wisconsin on October 25, 2007. I photographed both the sunset and the moonrise

Red Barn in Solitude

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Red Barn ©2007 Bo Mackison

It is in deep solitude that I find the gentleness with which I can truly love my brothers. The more solitary I am the more affection I have for them…. Solitude and silence teach me to love my brothers for what they are, not for what they say. ~ Thomas Merton

Photographed in central Door County, Wisconsin on October 6, 2007 on a rainy weekend.