Think Like a Rock
As soon as the mountains of North Georgia peeked over the horizon, I felt YES! The closer I got to North Carolina the bigger YES! I felt in my body. Beloved Mountains…I have heard you calling so strongly.
Even though I was headed to Asheville to stay with friends, I saw a vision of myself standing in the Qualla Art Center in Cherokee and since it was hardly out of the way, I found myself standing in the art center looking at a beautiful hand-crafted knife…a woman’s knife. The hilt was carved from antler in the shape of a bear head and as soon as I picked it up I knew it was a tool to help me cut through illusions and my own BS my mind can produce quite prolifically…it was a tool to assist in my work.
I’m pushing 60…not miles per hour. Sixty years of living in this body….well, not yet but less than a year away. For over a year I’ve been in a process of unearthing my life in preparation for the next part of my journey…stepping into the role of elder. Taking my gifts seriously and using them to help this planet…I hear It crying out for those of us willing and able to do our inner work and then be leaders. Even if we know the ecosystems are failing and hope to save them isn’t present, there’s something powerful about standing amidst the ruin or potential ruin with absolute love and devotion to this magnificent being we call Earth.
So listening to Earth is the assignment. The location is the mountains of North Carolina. That’s the new foundation being laid as I step out in faith and trust; however, the actual ‘getting there’ has not been an easy journey.
After three days of looking at property and homes I wisely scheduled a day of play in the woods. First stop, Greybeard Trail with my camera pack and trusty tripod. The pack seemed overly heavy for two lenses and a camera but I strapped it on and grabbed my tripod. There’s so much water at the beginning of the trail I didn’t have to walk far to find mind-blowing beauty. All the stress of the past few days…honestly, the past 18 months…seemed to ease although I was still angry that nothing was clear about location to move, my home selling in Alabama…all of that ‘loveliness.’
I grew snarly about the bright light. I overslept so didn’t get the soft light of dawn and had to deal with hot-spots on the water which is not a pleasant obstacle when doing exposures that are long. But I made the best of it climbing over huge fallen trees, skidding down rocks and climbing back up after photographing the rocks and water. I played….and played….and that was healing.
Finally, I needed to let go of the doing. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in photographing beauty I forget to actually be still and connect with it. So I sat on a huge rock with a perfect seat naturally carved in it. I got still in body and mind and began to listen. Birds, leaves rustling then deep listening that goes to the depths of the innards. Gradually the rock revealed a bit of wisdom that seemed to seep through it into my body and lastly found its way to a verbal message: Think. Like. A. Rock.
My mind wanted to take off….WOO HOO! New wisdom incoming….let’s take it apart and see what it means!!! But I gently resisted the mind’s urge to understand and just sat on the rock, cradled in the rock, and continued to listen…to feel my body let go and become one with the rock. And after I while I got up and thanked it and walked to the car.
I placed my expensive carbon fiber tripod on the top of the car on the padded kayak/paddleboard rack, and loaded my bag into the car. I drove into Black Mountain, parked, ate a huge and wonderful breakfast for lunch and afterwards drove to my friend’s home to play with their dog, feed her, walk in the garden with her….then drove an hour to Brevard…Dupont State Forest…and when I got out the tripod was still on top of my car. It somehow stayed there on interstate travel, on winding mountain roads and nobody stole it when it was laying there for over an hour in Black Mountain. I almost cried with relief. It’s such a wonderful tool when taking long exposures. This was a major miracle. Somehow it stayed with me.
The destination was a short hike to High Falls and even with a cloudless, bright sky I decided to carry the tripod and use dark filters so I could do longer exposures in bright sun. But then, there was this sign to Bridal Veil Falls…only 1.8 miles. That would make a nice hike…even though I was carrying a load….which I had lightened significantly by remembering my laptop was in the camera bag. Oy!
Walking on forest service gravel roads isn’t that easy, especially when carrying weight. And there were hardly any signs…so there was the issue of trusting that I was still on the right road. Finally, I looked at my watch and it indicated 6 minutes until 3pm. Okay…that’s my deadline. If I haven’t gotten some sign or assurance that I’m going in the right direction by 3pm I am turning around. And of course, two people came over the hill and they assured me it was ahead, a bit of a walk still, but not to give up. The woman said, “It would be such a shame to give up now.” Of course, she wasn’t carrying the gear. But still….
Think. Like. A. Rock.
The water rushing over the gi-normous rock was amazing but I was thinking….why did I bring the damn tripod? It wasn’t easy to relax and enjoy the beauty because I was only half-way done with my journey and had dinner plans with friends and there was no cell service so I couldn’t even tell them I might be wandering forestry roads about the time the dinner they fixed was ready.
But I made it back to the original falls I wanted to see and had a little water to spare in my bottle. But I never made it to downtown Brevard….I wanted to check out the vibe for a potential location to live.
I was only 15 minutes late for dinner and was able to text my friends after getting to an area with cell service. And it was lovely to see them and I was grateful for delicious food after walking/hiking 7.5 miles during the day with my heavy pack….I had visited Greybeard after all…and then there was High Falls…and walking around Black Mountain.
At some point during the evening Steve started sharing his love of cave art and we had an amazing conversation about shamen as being the original artists. They were able to touch the unseen world and bring back the essence of it through their art. He talked of the connecting flow of the visible world and the world of spirit…and it reminded me of the studies I did years ago with the Foundation for Shamanic Studies and the work I do in meditation…or whatever you wish to call it…where I connect with nature through the energy that connects us all.
Our conversation was so in harmony with the work I envision doing with people…helping them connect deeper with Nature. The art that comes through me, the ideas about deepening with Nature….WOW! There was a flow of affirmation from the realm of Spirit that was incredible.
The next morning I left my friend’s home to journey back to the coast. I decided to have breakfast in Brevard to see if I could feel more of the vibe needed to confirm a destination for living. The hike in nearby Dupont had clearly shown me the water and rocks abounded and mountain biking is a huge ‘thing’ there so that was a huge smiley face on the idea of relocating there.
So breakfast and then a walk through the farmer’s market…and there I chatted with an artist about living there. She was helpful and encouraging and gave the three other pieces I needed before making a decision…community, art and music. YES! Message received. And….she knew a musician friend of mine from Alabama that had pointed me towards Brevard.
Think. Like. A. Rock.
Be still. Stop the flow of mind. Be grounded. Be still. Nothing to figure out. Be still. Allow. Be still…inside. Allow resistance to fade. Be still. Allow life to flow. Solid. Ancient.
No more striving….no more pushing the river. Time to think like a rock. Time to think like a mountain.
When we see something at first glance, our brain receives the information or input. From that we form ideas or opinions.
When you look at this photograph, what does it look like? A pink flower? What about the background? What is the story you tell yourself about this image?
What about this image? What is the conclusion you draw from what your brain sees?
What if I told you there was only one stem of flowers. Would you believe it? Would you argue that there really are two? Now….what if I told you there was a mirror behind the one stem and I was using a flash to darken the background to get that perfect reflection.
This stem of flowers bent over from the heavy blossoms so I brought it inside and placed it in my bathroom where it has brightened that room with its pink loveliness. I watched the reflection grow as more buds have opened. Today it seemed to ask me to get my macro lens and camera and take a few moments to play with light and color and form.
Because the f stop was 45 the depth of field is very deep and clear so it really does appear to be two stems…but I know better. I created the illusion with a flash and mirror. Or is it an illusion? Are there really two flower stems? One in this world….one in that other world of magic and possibility. It might seem silly to ponder these questions but how many times do we accept what we see as fact without looking deeper? How often does what we see keep us from believing in something more?
A simple, exquisite stem of flowers has given me much to consider. What do I see when I look at life? Is it possibilities or is it something else?
It’s a relief to give up hope. Then I can focus on the here and now. I think Catherine Ingram wrote this in her article, Facing Extinction. Or maybe that’s what I thought while reading it. Or perhaps it was Dahr Jamail in his book, The End of Ice. It felt as if I was finally letting go of something very heavy and when I gave myself permission, it was freeing.
Nearly ten years ago, after documenting the BP Deepwater Horizon for a year, I was emotionally spent, exhausted and had no ability to allow joy or pleasure into my life…how could I while Nature was suffering so? I spent a week with Joanna Macy which helped me heal the deep wounds generated by what I witnessed.
While my eyes and throat burned with the smell of hot diesel fumes erupting from the Gulf of Mexico, people living only a few blocks off the beaches refused to believe the beaches were heavily oiled. That taught me how denial works in the human psyche. Something so unimaginable and painful is perhaps simply unacceptable in the human mind. As soon as the well was sealed, the attention of the masses was off to the next media circus leaving me angry and in disbelief. How did this not wake up the entire world, I fretted.
Since that time of photographing, writing and videoing seven areas along the Alabama and Florida Gulf Coast for a year, I have struggled with trying to maintain hope…that people will wake up and care and do something!
One of my mentors told me during the year I worked at the Gulf that there was a reason I was being asked to witness such devastation. I knew then I had never witnessed anything so traumatic. Watching sea creatures die on a daily basis, birds suffering, beaches heavily oiled while humans walked in bathing suits or frolicked in oiled waters was a living nightmare where reality was warped. Two worlds collided every day as cleanup workers dodged beach-goers and families let their children run and play in the toxic water.
So yes, I know crazy. I know denial. I know grief.
After working on the oil spill I decided to start documenting beauty and began writing about encounters with humpback whales, dolphins, manatees, sea lions…the Ocean itself and other sacred places. Surely, I reasoned, this will help people see the preciousness of our planet and maybe it will encourage them to action as protectors and champions. “This is what we risk losing!!!” I seemed to shout through my prose about my whale friends or the dolphin who seemed to adopt me into her pod or the adorable sea lion pup who played hide and seek with me.
I was still in a place of hope.
In the last decade, the reality of just how bad the climate crisis is has escalated. I thought the grief I felt over the oil spill was intense. Now, every day the grief deepens and yet, thanks to Joanna, I refuse to turn away from that which saddens me. As Dahr Jamail wrote in his new book, “I am committed in my bones to being with the Earth, no matter what, to the end.”
And the grief many of us are experiencing is anticipatory grief. We know what we are losing every day and we know the outlook is very grim. Catherine Ingram wrote, “For those of us who cannot look away, we carry the anticipatory grief for those who cannot bear to look.”
Why am I here? Why did I come to the planet at this time? I suspect, if we have a choice, it was intentional. The deep love I feel for this water planet and all life here is worth being here as a witness to the beauty and kindness and compassion….the capacity of humans for greatness. And yet with that capacity comes the other side of human behaviors that are selfish and plow through life with the profit-at-any-cost mindset.
Over the past couple of years a major shift in my work has been taking place. I have had clear guidance that one phase is ending and another is beginning. It feels like a bell is ringing in my soul, calling me to step forward and begin. It’s like the first 59 years of my life was about laying the foundation and now, the deeper work begins.
I know that I can’t be in a passive role any longer. I cannot ignore the sound of the bell calling me to work and gradually the vision is getting clearer.
My own inner work has taken me into deeper relationship with Nature. Without a doubt, the healthy way forward is to expand our individual and collective connection with Nature. As part of my work I will be offering opportunities for individuals and groups. There will be multiple opportunities for Deepening with Nature…a regular, outdoor circle to build community; day retreats; weekend retreats; sacred travels and individual consultations. This will be enhanced by my move back to the mountains of North Carolina.
We must re-learn how to listen to Nature and slow down to fine-tune our ability to hear our own heart’s voice. Dahr Jamail wrote it perfectly, “Grief is something I move through, to territory on the other side. This means falling in love with the Earth in a way I never thought possible. it also means opening to the innate intelligence of the heart. I am grieving and yet I have never felt more alive.”
I am releasing the dark visions of the future so I can remain present and be of service to this planet and those wishing to deepen their relationship to Her. I will use every talent I have to be present with all life here, whether it is connecting with a whale in the ocean or holding space for someone to feel their grief.
Dahr poses this question that I pass along: “How shall I use this precious time?”
In September 2017 I visited Ireland and spent a couple of days after a retreat by myself with the wild elemental spirits of the sea and land on Inis Mor, an island off the west coast of Ireland. On one of the many days I did a pre-dawn hike up to an ancient stone fort, I wandered to a place where part of a fence was removed and the supporting pipes were left standing.
As I stood high above the Atlantic Ocean with a strong wind blowing, there came an eerie flute-like sound. Nobody was around so I wondered what it might be. Finally I noticed the holes drilled in the fence post pipes and realized the wind was playing the pipes. I still get goosebumps when I think of that moment.
Later that day I wrote, “As I walked up the steep hill to this ancient fortification all my walls crumbled and I became an open channel for spirit to move through; a flute for the winds of heaven to play and bring beautiful music to the world.”
The retreat made me realize I was at a threshold that I began moving through the year before during a journey to northern England. Thresholds are times of change and I felt it coming back in 2016 as I stood within sacred stone circles. I would never have guessed that I would still be at that threshold…waiting.
Much inner work has been done during this time but forward movement is simply not happening (selling my home, relocating). The waiting has been, at times, excruciatingly painful. Feeling stuck, caught in the fallow time of pause, feeling that I am somewhat lost in my life.
A few days ago I realized the reason of my angst is that I no longer have a dream. For many, many years I made a promise to myself and the Universe that if I ever had the money I would dedicate myself full-time to documenting the beauty of the planet and would share that with others to encourage them to care and be good planetary stewards. Years ago I sold property and did very well on the sale so followed through on my promise. The outcome has been a large body of work–photographs, writing, videos, books…all a labor of pure love for our planet.
But that circle is closing. Not that I won’t continue that work but it is shifting. Not long ago I heard, in meditation, that a deepening of what I offer to others will occur. I don’t know the exact form but it will involve helping others deepen their connection to Mother Earth, thus to themselves. Retreats? Sacred travel? Teaching? Somehow using my gift of communication and being a bridge between nature and humanity. The beginning of a new dream is forming, but it’s not clear yet…so I have felt a bit lost and uncertain of the next step.
Kabir wrote, “The flute of the Infinite is played without ceasing, and its sound is love. When love renounces all limits, it reaches truth.” It’s time to renounce all limits…with love for the planet, all life…for myself.
The video that popped up as a recommendation this morning reminded me that there is a definite path rising up and to trust completely in this truth. My task now is to remain open and centered in love…to continue to follow my heart, even when I’m not sure where it is leading.
“The spirit of Walter Anderson thanks you.” This comment, while I was documenting the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill in 2010, meant more than any other. It fueled me to keep going when the fumes, death and poisoning of sea creatures weighed me down with unbearable grief.
Decades since his book, The Horn Island Logs, was published I have written and photographed many wondrous places and creatures in nature but more importantly, I have interacted with mountains, coasts, humpback whales, dolphins, sea lions, waterfalls, trees…I connect with much more than form, on a deep level.
That shot now hangs in the Water, Water exhibit at Walter Anderson Museum of Art (WAMA).
Another new exhibit at WAMA focuses on Walter as Artist, Naturalist & Mystic. Yes! was the only word that came to mind as I reflected on my own life.
Who knows how this life journey works. Something guided a friend (can’t remember who) to send me information on the exhibit. And the entire process brought me full circle to a place where I felt the spirit of Walter Anderson saying, “Well done.”
