Southwestern Colorado During the Boulder Flood

San Miguel Canyon ©Lynne Buchanan

Originally, my plans called for my to travel north to Boulder.  I was going to try and arrange a visit with the Riverkeeper in Fort Collins.  Right before I left on my trip, I decide to change plans and visit southwestern Colorado instead, since there were two Riverkeepers there and another in Moab I could see.  That was fortunate, as I would have had to cancel my plans.  Aaron Kimple, the Riverkeeper in Durango and the waitress at the restaurant I had dinner at both told me that if I loved rivers, I need to follow the Dolores River up into San Miguel Canyon.  I went over Lizard Pass to get there, which was also spectacular.  The San Miguel Canyon is stunning, with red rock walls.  It was a wonderful drive through a part of Colorado that I had never seen before.  The rivers in Colorado are typically filled with silt, although the heavy rains the state experienced caused the rivers to be even murkier than usual.  Nevertheless, it was lovely and definitely the road less traveled.

From there, I continued up towards Ridgeway before going on to Grand Junction.  This route afforded an amazing view of the mountains from Ouray to Silverton which the Million Dollar Highway traverses.  In the past, I have always taken this route.  I found the perspective of looking up at the mountains to be equally compelling and majestic.  It was also far less harrowing since the weather had been very changeable all day and storms were blowing in and out.  Somehow, I managed to miss all of the bad weather.  It was really quite remarkable.  And, I managed to receive the added benefit of many glorious clouds.

View Towards Ouray ©Lynne Buchanan

My next stop was Grand Junction, Colorado, where I visited my friends Jerold and Karen.  Jerold took me running in the National Monument.  What a spectacular spot.  I may have to move there one day.  Grand Junction has rivers, lots of desert plants, mountains, wonderful rock formations and it is a college town and not overly touristy.  A great added benefit is that in terms of topography, it is situated to receive water well and will survive the ensuing water shortage better than many Southwestern towns.   I probably should not espouse its benefits much more, or too many people might end up moving there and then it wouldn't be as special.  The photographs below are two of many incredible vistas.

National Monument Monolith ©Lynne Buchanan

National Monument Flora ©Lynne Buchanan

Being Fully in the Moment Where You Are Even When You Really Want to Be Somewhere Else

This blog and lesson came to me when I was in Moab, but I am only just now getting around to writing it down as my journey has been filled with wonderful excursions to remote places with little to no internet service and I have spent a lot of time visiting friends and meeting new people. This lesson was so important and it keeps recurring every day that I feel the need to backtrack and post it now.

I went to Moab for two reasons: to visit Arches again and to see John Weisheit, the Colorado Riverkeeper, an activist and a historian who cares deeply about our environment.  The visit with John was great and I will be writing an article about what I have learned from all the Riverkeepers I am meeting when I return home.  Arches was wonderful as well, though I missed seeing Delicate Arch which I was saving for the last morning.  This missed opportunity was the impetus for this blog.

The evening I arrived in Moab from Grand Junction, there was a full moon which added to the drama of the surreal landscape.

Sunset over the Lasalle Mountains ©Lynne Buchanan

Full Moon over Balanced Rock ©Lynne Buchanan

I remembered immediately why I love Arches.  I spent the evening wandering around the Windows section until there was no light left, except the light of the moon and even then it was hard to go back to my cabin.  

Arches in Moonlight ©Lynne Buchanan

The next day I hiked the Devils Garden Trail to Landscape Arch, Navajo Arch, Private Arch and back through the wilderness area.  The hike was wonderful, especially the more remote section, as our National Parks have become pretty crowded and it is nice to experience some solitude in these majestic places.  (When I return to Florida, I will process some of the photographs I took on the hike at post them on my website.)  Later that afternoon, I met with John and then I photographed the sunset again.

On the way back to my cabin from the park, the indicator malfunction lamp came on in my Prius.  I checked the manual and it said to take it to a dealer right away.  My heart sank.  I knew it would be a bad idea to drive into Arches for the sunrise in the morning, because it was a fairly long drive and I knew I had to get from Moab to Salt Lake City that day and I had to find someone to check and hopefully fix the car.   If you have ever been to Moab you know the likelihood of finding someone to repair a hybrid is pretty slim.  I went to sleep consoling myself that I had seen Delicate Arch several times before and I would see it again someday.

The next morning I woke up and looked out the window.  I saw a couple of beautiful clouds forming and my disappointment grew.  I wanted to be at Delicate Arch so badly–especially if there were clouds in the sky.  What an added bonus that would be.  I contemplated driving anyway. but I knew I wouldn't make it in time and it might be dangerous.  (Turns out it was and I had an active fuel leak, which the mechanic in Moab did not detect and I did not discover until I went to the dealer in Salt Lake.) I felt horrible, like I was missing something really, really great, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.  I went back inside the cabin and made a cup of coffee.  Then I went out on the porch to check the sky again.  It was amazing.  

Sunrise Over Moab Rim ©Lynne Buchanan

Yes, I was in a campground, and yes this sunrise was taking place over an inhabited area and not the pristine National Park (which is usually populated with lots of people and not totally isolated anyway), but my circumstances didn't make this sunrise any less worthy.  It was beautiful and special and I realized then that I would be a fool if I did not enjoy it fully, which for me often involves photographing what I'm seeing.  I got my camera and my tripod and made this image 10 feet from the cabin door.  The sky was putting on an incredible show.  Did I still want to be at Delicate Arch?  Honestly, yes.  Sometimes there are places and people we want to be with and we know it will be magical, but for one reason or another that is not where we are right now.  I can still dream of going to Delicate Arch in the future and there is nothing wrong with that, unless it means I am unable to appreciate the gifts I am given each moment.  This beautiful sky taught me the lesson of embracing the moment and experiencing its magic, even when it isn't the magic I was expecting in the place and time I had pictured.  The memory of this sunrise reminds me of this important lesson every day.

Sometimes, being an Aries and firstborn child, I am a little dense and stubborn.  Life has to teach me very explicit and lengthy lessons and the sky did not disappointment me.  It probably knew that one burst like the image above wouldn't be enough.  The campground I was staying at was up by the top of the rim, so I had a 360 degree view and the sun worked it's magic all around me.  First I saw it light up the rim in the distance.  The rock turned beautiful pinks and purples and watching one section after the next become illuminated was captivating.  It was like some supreme being was directing its attention on each new place, bringing it to life.  

Lighting up the Rim ©Lynne Buchanan

As my excitement grew, I realized that it was going to light up the canyon wall right behind where I was staying.  I wondered if I would be able to get closer, so I grabbed my camera and tripod and began running towards the back of the campground.  Fortuitously there was an empty field, so I went running through it and arrived in time to see the wall turn the most beautiful golds I have ever seen as the sun hit it–an alchemical transformation that was beyond belief.

Canyon Wall ©Lynne Buchanan

When everything was illuminated and this particular sunrise show was over, I went back and had another cup of coffee and thought about what I had experienced that morning.  I gave thanks that I was able to put aside my disappointment and appreciate the moment.  I also realized that if I hadn't been able to do that in this incredible place, something would have to be seriously wrong with me.  Yet, so much of the time we build up expectations.  We think we should have arrived somewhere that we haven't come to yet.  Things will be better in the future, somewhere else, in someone else's shoes, if we weren't sick, broke, unknown, single, married, too young, too old whatever it is.   And while we are envisioning this perfect reality that is not yet here, we miss little miracles that are all around us.

It came to me that morning, that a lot of my journey is about this.  I am traveling and not just staying put and appreciating a single place, but my journey is not about going from point a to point b.  I am on a lengthy trip going to many places instead of a single destination and every place I go is significant and I am trying to experience it to the fullest.  Now if I can just continue to do this when I return and move into my new house and into my new life, I am sure my existence will be that much richer.

A Few Animal Photos from Yellowstone

There are so many amazing things to witness each day on this earth no matter where you are, but if you happen to be in Yellowstone it is over the top.  I think it will take me months to sort through all the landscape photographs I took, as I was completely enamored with geothermal activity.  My friend Tom and I wondered what the first people who discovered this area thought when the saw the earth gurgle and sputter with steam rising all around.  I wouldn't be surprised if they though it was evidence of the existence of hell, yet viewing all the different geysers was absolute heaven for me.  Hopefully, I will find a little time to sort through my landscape photographs and chose a few favorites soon.  I have been on the go non-stop since I left Sarasota on August 29th.

In the meantime, here are a few animal photographs from Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks.  Enjoy.  These creatures are amazing and I am so grateful there are places where they can still roam free.  The elk with his magnificent horns did not seem to mind the rain, but I watched the moose for about an hour and he would not get up even with all the commotion of a huge crowd of people and diesel trucks blowing through.  He was hunkering down in the rain.  I got so soaked I finally had to give up and get lunch.  That must be one of the major differences between landscape and creature photographers!

Bison Drinking © Lynne Buchanan

Running Bison ©Lynne Buchanan

Mama Grizzly Chasing her Yearling © Lynne Buchanan

Yearling and Mama Grizzly ©Lynne Buchanan

Regal Elk © Lynne Buchanan

Moose Hunkering Down in the Rain © Lynne Buchanan

The Sunset After the Storm

Grand Teton Sunset Panorama ©Lynne Buchanan

All Rights Reserved, Watermarked by Digimarc

My trip across the country has been amazing so far and each day I am filled with so much gratitude.  I know I have witnessed problems such as droughts, floods, the aftermath of fires and the like, yet despite the evidence of cataclysmic climate change that I have witnessed there is still such a strong positive life force apparent throughout this beautiful earth.  Since one of my primary objectives during this trip has been to photograph nature, I have witnessed countless sunrises and sunsets, each of which is different and  miraculous in its own right .    Last night I was fortunate enough to see this beautiful sunset before I ate dinner at the Jackson Lake Lodge in Grand Teton National Park.  

The day had started out beautifully in Yellowstone, but as soon as my friend Tom and I arrived in the Tetons we saw storm clouds begin to form.  I dropped Tom at the airport and managed to get in a short hike to Taggart Lake before the rain came.  The craggy rocks and ominous storm clouds looming created such a sense of austerity and foreboding .  I watched the sky darken and stayed at the glacial lake until I thought it was no longer safe.  As soon as I got back to the car, the rain began to fall...

Taggart Lake Before the Storm ©Lynne Buchanan

I went and checked into my room, only to discover all the restaurants had already closed at Colter Bay Village for the season.  I drove back to Jackson Lake Lodge.   The rain stopped the moment I arrived, so I walked out back and was fortunate enough to witness an amazing sunset with glorious colors and ominous clouds all in one scene.  Both the dark and the light were equally important.  It was too expansive to fit in the frame of my camera, even with a wide angle lens, so I decided to take three photographs and stitch them together.  

God rays were emanating up from the horizon, instead of pointing downwards as they usually do, and the contrast of the suns rays against the dark clouds was extremely powerful.  It was electric and so much more intense precisely because of the gnarly weather that had preceded it. I had the realization that life is not comprised of only sunny days and sometimes what life throws our way is more stark and uncomfortable.  There are dark periods that we have to endure before the light comes, and it is the contrast that makes our good fortune, when it arrives, that much more sacred.  

My Visit to New Mexico

On the Way to Ghost Ranch ©Lynne Buchanan

My visit to Santa Fe, Taos and Ghost Ranch was all I had hoped it would be and more.  What I learned about photography was eclipsed by what I learned about the miracle of existence.  I discovered angels do support us if we open to grace and something larger than our smaller selves and miracles can happen if you have faith that things will work out beyond what you can see and against all odds.  At Chimayo, which is known as the Lourdes of the west, I had a long talk with a young man in robes about the significance of the site and why people believe they can be healed there.  As we spoke, I realized that although my spirituality is not orthodox and I belong to no organized religion, there are many spiritual paths and they all lead to the same place at the highest level.   It is when spirituality becomes associated with secular power that things go awry.   While I spoke with this young man, I felt a strong connection with him and the place and I even went to collect some of the sacred dirt after I paid my respects.  I am not Catholic but it did not matter.  He was so happy I asked and was delighted to share the story of this sacred place.

Angelic Support ©Lynne Buchanan

Receiving Grace ©Lynne Buchanan

The energy of the earth in New Mexico was very strong and I felt like a child again climbing the rocks and taking photographs of all the amazing shapes and patterns.  I thought often of the work of Georgia O’Keefe, which has always spoken to me.  The way she captured the essence of forms and the emotional response she had to nature made a strong impression on me when I first studied art history years ago.  Standing in her country seeing the source of her inspiration in the hills just outside Ghost Ranch brought tears to my eyes.  Some day I will go back there alone for a week and commune with her spirit and the spirit of the land. 

At the end of my stay in Santa Fe, I was fortunate enough to spend part of an afternoon with Sandra Ingerman, who has trained people in shamanic journeying all over the world. She validated that I am on the path I am meant to follow.  Sandra also said something very interesting that made me pause and think.  She said that in native cultures people identify the talents people are born with as soon as possible and then nurture those talents.  I was born with a certain connection with nature and an ability to appreciate and notice the smallest visual details, but for years I worked at jobs that had nothing to do with my talents.  I only began to uncover them again after I had children and helped foster their own gifts.  As we created together, something began to awaken in me.  Yoga, meditation, journeying and other practices helped me get out of my own way and connect with my larger Self, which is the source of our creativity.

Stairway to Heaven ©Lynne Buchanan

I bought a painting of aspen trees from an artist in Taos Pueblo and ended up having a fascinating conversation with her.  Though I thought I would be drawn mostly to the earth in the desert southwest, the arid climate made me realize how important water is to survival.  The artist and I discussed the rivers and the life cycles of planting.    Climate change is having a devastating effect on native people, who are much more closely tied to the earth.  As climate change affects water cycles by causing the spring thaw to arrive sooner and droughts to follow, water arrives too early and there is not enough at the critical times so their crops are adversely impacted.  As we talked, I couldn’t help thinking we would all take the issues that are causing us to deplete our natural resources at an alarming rate more seriously if we weren’t so disconnected from nature and actually saw and experienced firsthand the destruction of the environment that occurs every day.  The wisdom of the Native Americans has always been a source of inspiration for me, so I purchased a book called Learning Native Wisdom: What Traditional Cultures Teach Us About Subsistence, Sustainability, and Spirituality.  I am excited to read this book, as I believe the foundation of our entire culture needs to change and become much closer to that of native peoples if our planet is to survive.  Gary Holthaus, the author of the book, quotes a farmer and friend as saying, “ No use talking about sustainable agriculture if you don't have a sustainable culture."

Rock of Ages and the Journey Within

Rock of Ages ©Lynne Buchanan

All Rights Reserved,Watermarked by Digimarc

When I visited Carlsbad Caverns earlier in the week, I got so focused on being in the present moment and the journey into the depths of the cavern and noticing all the mysterious and awe-inspiring details around me that I totally lost track of time.  Coming up on the elevator, I was finally able to see my watch in the light and I realized I had been down there for five hours and not two. Usually, my life is highly segmented into all kinds of activities that I think I need to be doing.  It is often frustrating because just when I am getting deeply into something, I have to let it go and move on to something else.  Modern life is typically over-scheduled and the visit to the caverns showed me that when we give ourselves over completely and immerse ourselves in the mystery of existence, without checking cell phones every few seconds or wondering where we have to be next, we are able to see with our whole being.  It is not that the mystery goes away, because as limited beings we can never fully understand everything, but we can get a whole lot closer to the core of that mystery and stand in awe of it.

The image above is known as the Rock of Ages.  When I came upon it, I immediately thought of Rembrandt's paintings, especially his self-portraits.  The core of being emerges from the light and the mystery.  It is strong and solid as everything around it dissolves into darkness.  It is being in both the dark and the light, in this world and the non-material world, that appeals to me and is the path to higher awareness.  I know that in my own life, I spent over fifty years skating on the surface of my being, fearful of penetrating the layers of darkness as I was scared of what I might find.  Finally, when I began to realize that I could die without ever knowing my true self or accessing my full potential and power, I began to develop enough courage to start looking within without judgment.  Yes, I found some things out that I would rather put back in the darkness, though in bringing them to light they lost their hold over me, but I also found strengths I did not know I possessed and many gems created out of the stardust that is the source of all being.  In coming to know myself better, I am also able to understand signs and make connections that I would have missed otherwise.  My appreciation for all of life has exponentially increased as I have learned to be with myself and look inwards.   It is all about shifting and expanding our vision.  To see in the darkness and fully appreciate the mystery of life requires seeing with more than our eyes...

A Letter From Lynne

As most of you know.  I am undertaking a three month journey across the US and back photographing our amazing country for good and for worse.  I will be sending updates on a daily basis to my assistant, Tania, who will create a newsletter of my photographs and comments on a periodic basis.  Although I am posting blogs myself when I have internet service, there are many interesting things that happen along the way that you might be interested in that aren't necessarily high art, including tips of where to go, where not to go (after tonight), and other anecdotal, behind the scenes images and thoughts that will give you a better idea of what it is really like for  woman to go across the country alone...  Driving across West Texas and into New Mexico made me realize that it isn't necessarily the safest thing for a single female to do alone. Just one of the stories you can read in the newsletter.

I started the drive from Sarasota to the Panhandle, which was pretty tame.  Saw the largest beef jerky stand in Otter Creek ever and I thought that was news.  The water was dark and filled with algae in Wakulla Springs and I had a hot night in Davis Bayou, Mississippi.  Things only got hotter.  Houston was almost 100 degrees and it is just as humid.  Didn't even consider going out into nature, and frankly, that is what is going to happen to a lot of nature lovers if global warming keeps escalating the way it is.  Spent the day in an air conditioned museum and didn't even mind how overly cold they kept the museum.  The next morning, I got up before the sun so I could run without melting.  Left early, so the sun wouldn't kill me in the car.  Unfortunately, I hit a huge Texas pothole and blew out my tire.  Turns out four people before me and two after me suffered the same unfortunate experience and I was out of there by 11:00 am.  Who knows how many more people lost their tires that day.  From there, I went to Austin, where it hit 102 degrees. Turns out there is a big difference between 99 degrees and 102.  Each additional degree is exponentially brutal.  People who think a degree or two of climate change is small peanuts are out of their minds.  I ran in Austin too, although a little later since my friend had to drop her son at school first.  Thank God we were done by 9:00.  Went to the botanical gardens later that afternoon and I made the mistake of taking a macro photograph of a cactus in the sun.  After five minutes of taking multiple exposures to stitch, I was covered in sweat and about to faint.  The lady in the gift shop said no one goes out in September.

Driving on to New Mexico through West Texas, I was lucky enough to hit one of those famous Texas cool waves of 95 degrees.  When my hostess in Austin told me a heat wave was 95 degrees, I thought she was kidding.  Now I know she wasn't lying.  Don't know if I could have gotten out of the car one more time if I hadn't hit that cool wave.  Went to Hamilton Pool and happily took photos of the pathetically small waterfall (which I assumed was a large as I had seen it in photographs) from the middle of the pond with fish biting me, because thank goodness I was wet.  Almost stepped on a snake that looked an awfully lot like a water moccasin.  Pretty sure it was–we have those in Florida too.  Luckily, I saw it in time...  It was going for the only wet cool spot, just like me.  I figured it needed it more than I did, so I gave the snake the right of way.  Then I decided to visit LBJ's childhood home and realized his ancestors had it pretty darn tough.  Talk about unforgiving land...   Next, I walked around Enchanted Rock for a bit but decided I would hike to the summit on my way back through Texas in November, as I was done with melting and figured heat stroke was a strong possibility.  It was 2:00 by then and I figured I better get serious about the drive to Carlsbad. In west Texas, I passed through Harper.  There was a sign by the side of the road just past the church that exhorted everyone to "Pray for Rain."   No wonder.  When I passed by the Perdenales River just outside the town, there wasn't a drop of water in it.  Luckily, I had filled up my tank with gas in Fredericksburg, because there was no more gas until Fort Stockton and I was about on empty when I got there.  If I thought the drive from Fredericksburg to Fort Stockton was desolate and strange, it was on the drive from Fort Stockton to Carlsbad that I really wondered about my sanity driving alone across the country.  Fortunately, I was still listening to William Heat Moon and he was stranded in a snowstorm driving up to the Bristlecone pines.  Things could be worse.  Maybe.

I arrived at my hotel in Carlsbad to find multiple police cars casing the joint.  Not surprisingly,that made me a little apprehensive right.  Drove around the block after I checked in and saw the police officers interrogating a bunch of people down an alley right by the hotel.  After I took the first load of my stuff up to the room (decided I better get everything), I saw someone had propped the door open with a trash can.  Phoned the front desk and they called the police back.  Once I got back into my room, I decided skipping dinner was the safest course of action.

On the positive side, I have finally come up with a name for my car: "True Blue!"  The car got me safely across West Texas and that was a great thing, since it would not have been a good idea to break down with no one around, even though I traveled with lots of supplies.  I believe women are much safer when they are traveling with men in remote locations.  Definitely keeping my eyes and ears open...Always appreciate survival tips!

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On Fire

   

 Barrel Cactus on Fire ©Lynne Buchanan

On my way across country, I spent a few days in Texas.  First I visited my son and his girlfriend in Houston, where it was so hot and humid that we couldn't spend any time outside except for going from one place to the next.  The closest we came to experiencing nature was the air-conditioned Natural History Museum, which was quite enjoyable although I always prefer to be in contact with the real thing.  On my way out of town, I hit a terrible pothole that blew out my front tire.  Apparently, the same thing had happened to four other people before me and two after me that morning.  The preceding day, numerous people hit this spot in the road and the gas station attendant told me one lady had blown out two of her tires.  I can't help but think that climate change will make potholes worse, since there will be more intense expansions and contractions of the earth.   This is ominous since the City isn't doing anything now, when so many people are being affected each day.  AAA's front page article this month was on potholes in Houston.  Apparently I can try and sue the city, but I would only consider doing this if it would motivate politicians and local government officials to acknowledge climate change is real.

After Houston, I went to Austin.  It was hotter there than anywhere I have been on the drip so far, reaching over 100 degrees both days.  When I took the macro of the barrel cactus above, I was in the sun for five minutes and ended up drenched with sweat.  The lady in the gift shop, where I bought a cooling towel on my way out, told me no one goes outside this time of year.  The Colorado River is central to the lives of people in Austin and I know why.  With heat levels so high, the river is a great place to cool off.  My hosts took me running around Lady Bird Lake (the dammed portion of the river in the morning) because it is more pleasant to run there, and I saw lots of people playing in the water or just chilling in Barton Springs.  The paddle borders, kayakers, and swans came out to appreciate the skyline in the late afternoon.  Seems like being near water or getting wet is the only thing that makes it tolerable to go outside in Austin in August and September...

 

Chillin in Barton Springs ©Lynne Buchanan

Boats on Barton ©Lynne Buchanan

Contemplating the Austin Skyline ©Lynne Buchanan        

For summer day trips from Austin, people often drive to Hamilton Pool about forty-five minutes away.  The story of this natural area was not so rosy due to the prolonged drought.  The rock formation around the pool was beautiful, but all the pictures I have seen of this area showed a large waterfall.  The morning I was there, it was just a small trickle.  Though the pool was shallow, thankfully it was still open.  I gladly waded in to the middle to make some photographs.  I missed the effect of water pouring down, since only a few drops spilled over the edge ever few seconds.   The rock itself was more visible and this made for an interesting photograph, though I would gladly have given up my view for more water.  Heading west, the story got bleaker and bleaker.  Outside a church in Harper, the sign read “Pray for Rain.”  When I crossed the Pedernales River on the road a short while later, I could see why.  There wasn’t a drop of water anywhere.  Luckily that day we were experiencing the 95 degree cool wave my Austin hostess had been hoping for, so I didn't melt.

Hamilton Pool ©Lynne Buchanan

When temperatures climb over 95 degrees, this experience taught me that ever degree counts.  The hotter it got, the more water I had to drink and the more I wanted to get wet, either jumping in pools or rivers or wrapping myself with the cooling towel.  Climate change is serious.   Sometimes people don’t think a degree or two of temperature change is very much and that it won't be a problem, or that it is a concern way off in the future. They should spend August and September in Texas…  Funny thing is some people do and they still don't acknowledge climate change.  Will it take giant holes in the roads all over the country or resigning oneself to never going out in real nature for multiple months a year?  What scares me is that people will be even less likely to protect the environment if they never go outside because the world is on fire...

Pray for Rain ©Lynne Buchanan

Pedernales All Dried up...

Lynne Buchanan Fine Art Photography Newsletter

Lynnebuchanan.com is launching its first newsletter! By signing up to receive the newsletter you'll be able to keep up with Lynne as she continues on her three month cross country trip. You'll also be able to get a "behind the scenes" look into her process and her thoughts. Not to mention, signing up for her newsletter will give you periodic access to free desktop wallpapers and other bonuses. 

The Many in the One and the One in the Many

Abundance in Lake Martin ©Lynne Buchanan  

Lake Martin Lily ©Lynne Buchanan

My friend Sally took me to Lake Martin, a beautiful lake in Louisiana.  Lotus flowers have always spoken to me, and when I saw them situated in this gorgeous lake with their big leaves, the cypress trees, and on this spectacular day, so many wonderful clouds, it was like life had exploded into brilliance all around me.  It was almost too much to take it all in.  The blossom was stunning and I was captivated by how the soft petals blew around in the breeze and the different relations it created with the clouds and trees.  I was in love with this flower and all of life in that moment.  I kept photographing it from many angles, like I was photographing an ideal model or a loved one whose face I never wanted to forget.  I lost all sense of where I was.  I was not an out of town visitor to the lake–I was fully immersed in this natural setting, inextricably bound to the flower and all that surrounded it. 

When I got home and looked at the images on my computer, it was very interesting.  In the more intimate photograph of the lily blossom against the trees with minimal sky, the colors were lovely and I was able to appreciate all the diversity.  On the other hand, in the photograph of the lily looking out towards the open lake with vast expanses of sky and clouds in the composition, the explosion of life was almost too much.  I decided to convert this image to black and white, to prevent sensory overload and hone in on the incredible bond of immersion I had experienced.  It seemed to work better for me.  Then I started to think about what this experience could teach me.  I am nearing the end of my first week of an incredible journey across the country.  There is so much I want to take in and experience, learn from and express.  If I approach the journey too rigidly and try to capture it all, it will overwhelm me and I might miss the true lesson, which is all about simplification and getting down to the essence of life.  Heraclitus was right–we can find the many within the one–our journeys and the myriad of unique locations we visit–and the one within the many–fully immersing ourselves in the moment and experiencing unified being in any location.