On Being Grateful for Beauty

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.  May you walk in beauty, peace, and happiness, as this Navajo woman whom Edward Curtis photographed surely did.  The bliss that is yours that comes from appreciating the boundless beauty in the world awaits you if you open yourself completely to the miracles of the universe.  As the Navajo prayer concludes, when you walk with awareness of beauty all around you, your words become beautiful.  As we all know from experience, your words create our reality...

Today I am thankful I still possess a childlike wonderment for life and all its glorious manifestations.  I am blessed not to be jaded and to still believe in infinite possibilities for growth and giving back.  My gratitude for my wonderful family and old friends and new is so boundless it cannot be expressed in words, except to say, "Thank you universe."

As you go about your day today, walk forward with naive courage, pure excitement, and gratitude that you are here to experience all life has to offer.  And if you happen to have a pink cowboy hat that matches your pink shirt and boots (or a white hat and shirt if you are a guy) like these adorable children I photographed with my iPhone striding to Lake Martin with their dad, you might lift everyone else's spirits too!

White Sands Sunset

Golden Sunset, White Sands ©Lynne Buchanan

This evening I witnessed the most amazing sunset in White Sands.  It was the first time I have been to this National Park and I was immediately captivated.  I knew I was in trouble when I saw the dunes from the highway.  It was already 4:30 when I arrived, so I went to the visitor center straight away to get some information about the various areas of the park.  I mentioned something about photography and the ranger said that photographers were usually the people who got lost in the park.  She warned me that they kept looking ahead and never back and soon forgot where they came from.  I went out into the dunes and swore that wouldn't happen to me.  A couple walked out a little ways behind me and followed me for awhile.  I kept looking back to see where they were and where we came from.  then the sky turned all these colors and all bets were off.  The shape of the clouds, the light, specific yuccas kept calling me and I kept following, whispering how I couldn't believe what was happening.  I kept saying there must be a God, or some higher power to make something this spectacular.  I kept thanking the universe, and then it started to get dark and I had only a vague idea where I came from.  I got up on a dune and saw the mountains that were behind me when I started and began walking that way.  Fortunately, I came across a local couple with two dogs after awhile and they pointed me in the right direction.  I thanked them profusely and told them how embarrassed I would have been if I had gotten lost after such a warning.  I can't wait to go back tomorrow morning.  I am already promising myself to keep better track of my bearings, but sometimes it is difficult!

The Hopis Love of Clouds

A couple of days ago, I visited with two Hopi silversmiths on the second Mesa, the owner of Sewukiwmas Arts and Crafts and the owner of the Rising Sun Gallery.  They both talked to me at great length about the natural symbols they use in their art and their way of life.   Their way of life depends on natural cycles since they practice dry farming in washes or along irrigated terrace walls, utilizing only precipitation from rain and snowmelt.  Clouds, rain, lightening, are all very important symbols, and they particularly love clouds, as they bring the rain that sustains all life.

Weaver, a truly gifted master silversmith and the owner of the Rising Sun Gallery, and I had a very deep discussion about living close to the land and the harm that man is causing the earth through pollution and not protecting water, the veins of life that keep us alive.  Weaver told me that he believes that recent tragic weather events are the earth's way of rebalancing itself to compensate for what we are doing to her.  He said in farming, they clear all the weeds underneath the crops so they can grow better and that he believes this is what the earth is doing on a larger scale when fires, torrential rains, and typhoons come.  His words seemed rather harsh to me when I thought about  all the lives that were lost in the Haiyan Typhoon. Yet,  I felt the truth to what he was saying.  Nature is not intentionally trying to hurt us.  She is just responding to all the harm man is causing the environment and trying to rebalance herself.  As Sandra Ingerman, Weaver, and many others who believe in the wisdom of native cultures repeatedly stress, if we can bring ourselves into better balance with nature, the earth will heal itself and we will heal too.

Living in balance and harmony and working with what nature provides to sustain ourselves does not devastate the environment in the way western farming and industrialization does.  When I looked on line to see if anyone was trying to apply dry farming principles, I learned the Hopi Tribe is assisting researchers at the Crown Canyon Archeological Center on ancient corn-growing techniques.  At the end of our conversation, Weaver said it was so unusual to hear someone speak the same way about nature coming from such a different culture.   When he handed me the bracelet I bought with bear claw marks and a turquoise stone and the tortoise pendant with the water symbol, he said that his prayer for me was a long life filled with courage to live in harmony with water.  I got chills when he said this, as my desire to inspire people to protect water grows stronger all the time.

After I left the Hopi Mesas and began driving to Holbrook, I saw the most amazing cloud looming over the desert that I have ever seen.  I pulled into a dirt road and made this image, so that I would always remember how divine clouds truly are and how important they are to our survival.

Divine Cloud as I was Leaving Hopi Land ©Lynne Buchanan

As I continued along the road feeling how the world smiles on us when we live in harmony and understand that we are just one small being in an interconnected web of life, the light broke through the clouds and lit up the earth, making her glow.  There was a little pullout off the road and I got out to make this photograph.

Glowing Desert Earth ©Lynne Buchanan

Then the sun set and the sky turned beautiful purples and pinks as the moon rose over two formations linked together as one, while still retaining their separateness.  I stopped the car again and was overcome with a sense of deep peace as I made this image with the help of mother nature, the greatest artist of all...

Desert Moon Rise ©Lynne Buchanan

From Mount Shasta to the Mojave and how the Desert Brought Me Back to Life

My friends in Grants Pass told me that I had to go to Mount Shasta on my drive through the backbone of California.  Thank goodness I did.  It gave me the strength and energy I needed to face millions of trucks and other cars.  Every time I drive I-5, I think this is how we are ruining the earth and as more people populate the planet more of the earth will become desecrated like this.  Fortunately, I communed with nature and medicine circles before I set out on the long drive and when I arrived in the Mojave Desert…

I decided to hire a guide in Mount Shasta and was fortuitously assigned Robin, the Mount Shasta Fun Guide.  She is an aspiring photographer and has published a book on the area.  (She is also a naturalist, historian, skier, search and rescue person, and has an ice ax and crampon school.  Prior to meeting Robin, I had always considered myself fairly tough. )  Robin took me to many wonderful vantage points of Mount Shasta, the Serenity Vortex, and Faery Falls.  We had a wonderful afternoon together, connecting with the special energy in the area and making photographs.  I can’t think of a better way to spend a day.

Faery Falls ©Lynne Buchanan

Mount Shasta with Medicine Circle ©Lynne Buchanan

Twin Peaks of Mount Shasta ©Lynne Buchanan

Mount Shasta in Divine Light ©Lynne Buchanan

Then I went to Redding to photograph the Sun Dial Bridge, which is quite amazing. 

Sun Dial Bridge ©Lynne Buchanan

Unfortunately, the hotel I stayed in was horrible, and after I woke up at 2:30 am and realized I could not sleep another moment there, I decided to hit the road and drove 13 hours to Nipton, California, an historic town and access point to the Mojave Desert, the least visited of all the National Parks.  The Hotel Nipton and the train depot were very picturesque in their own quirky way.  Turns out the train still runs and went right by my room, but I was so tired it did not bother me at all.  

Hotel Nipton ©Lynne Buchanan

Heading Nowhere in the Moonlight ©Lynne Buchanan

Nipton Train Depot at Sunset ©Lynne Buchanan

The next morning, I saw the most incredible sunrise.  The sky turned amazing colors all around me and the desert floor picked up these vibrant shades from the sky.  I kept going from one side of the road to the other, because the entire desert valley was glowing.  It took my breath away.  Then I drove on to see Joshua trees, volcanic cones, and sand dunes.  The Mojave Desert has incredible diversity and is teeming with life.  Some might call it a wasteland as it is in the middle of nowhere and the driest place on earth (I went through tons of water just standing there making photographs and could not believe how thirsty I got on the sand dunes), but I would rather be here than on the I-5 corridor in California any day.  I spent until noon drinking in the sights and let the desert resuscitate me, before heading on my way to the Grand Canyon, where I arrived just as the sun was setting.

Sunrise over the Mojave Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

Volcanic Cone Beds, Mojave Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

Lake at Honeyman ©Lynne Buchanan

I have been meaning to write about this special morning for sometime, but life got too busy.  The last day of my workshop with Jack Graham in Portland, the check engine light came on in my car again.  It turns out the Prius truly isn't an off road vehicle.  The canisters underneath the gas tank I punctured a month ago when I hit a boulder on a dirt road in Durango were breaking down and another costly repair was required.  I opted to trade the Prius in for an all wheel drive vehicle with sufficient clearance to travel the roads I often drive on in search of photographic subjects.  The experience I had making this photograph was so significant to me that I couldn't not write about it, so I am going back in time.

This photograph was made at Honeyman State Park, where I stayed in a yurt one night on my way up to Portland.  I got up before sunrise and went for a walk on a trail near the campground.  First I passed a very small lake with native plantings all around it.  It was just before sunrise and the sky had started to turn all these amazing colors and I could see them being reflected in the water through the trees.  The vegetation around the lake was so thick that I couldn't find a place to photograph.  I felt very frustrated.  I asked the universe why I was being allowed to notice something so beautiful but wasn't being given a perfect vantage point, or even a manageable one.  I promised it wasn't so I could take a photograph for my own benefit.  I tried to explain to the universe that I was merely trying to celebrate and share its beauty with others.  Still no openings appeared.  I am not sure exactly what I thought would happen–that trees would magically part like the Red Sea or something?  I tried bushwhacking, but I left my machete at home in Florida and a branch scratched my eye.  I sighed and gave up.

I walked on a quarter of a mile or so and came to the parking lot for the day users.   On the other side of the lot, there was another, larger lake that was surrounded by more majestic trees.  The colors in the sky were on fire now and the reflection was much more expansive.  Again there was no place to photograph from the shoreline, but then I spotted a floating dock.  It was closed but I easily managed to climb under the barrier and push my gear through.  I thanked the universe and promised to be more patient next time, though I admit that I often have difficulties with patience when I sense something incredible on the horizon.  This morning taught me two things which I keep having to relearn every day.  First, my vision is limited.  What I think might be an ideal place or state might only be a stepping stone to something even more special that I am not yet aware of.  Second I am just one small cog in the big machine that turns the wheels of time.  It is not solely up to me when revelations occur or when dreams begin to manifest in reality. Sometimes the universe lets me catch a glimpse of its secret workings and then the door is closed again.  All I can do is walk with awareness and allow my senses to guide me to where openings might be.  Every now and then I am given great gifts like this beautiful sunrise and the journey to see it.