As Easter approaches, the symbolism of death-to-life (or life-to-death) transformation comes to mind. When I’m photographing living things in nature, I sometimes talk to the essence of it in my mind, befriending it, comforting it, wanting it to know I recognize and appreciate how its life (and death) on this planet has helped the lives of us fragile humans.
The tree “starburst” above has been a food source for countless forest insects. In its early life, it may have provided food for families of mushrooms.
At one point, its cousin may have been the “hero” in one of my other photos or blog posts. Like the one below…
The celebration of tree beauty fills me completely in October in Upper Michigan. It is the time of year when all the trees become giant colorful flowers.
This month (April 2025) feels like a cloudy-er / showery-er / rainy-er April than I have seen in years. Suddenly the grass has turned green. And green shoots of daffodils, tulips, and day lilies are poking out of the ground in familiar locations.
What makes us all one is water. The average percentage of water in the human body is 60%, but it varies in different parts of the body. See the 1-minute video below.
Water is also the symbol of emotions. Our lives are full of emotions, and the tears flow more often and easily in my life as I open to life. Tears of sorrow and sadness. Tears of awe from seeing good people doing the right, kind things. Tears of joy seeing my tiny dog gazing at my face. And now in April, witnessing the tears of the clouds and sky. And our Earth providing us with ocean waves, waterfalls, lakes, river rapids, and other water phenomena.
So how about some pictures, Harry!? Here you go! 🙂 (click image to ENLARGE)
Little River Light, Great Smoky Mountains NP, October 30, 2015
Cannon Beach, Oregon
My Favorite Falls – Columbia River Gorge, Oregon
Lake Superior Sunset – Ontonagon, Michigan
Medicine Lake, Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies
Lake Moraine Sunrise, Banff National Park, Canadian Rockies
Lake Louise, Banff National Park, Canadian Rockies
Mount Laurel at Convict Lake, Eastern Sierra, near Mammoth Lakes, California
Mossy Little River, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN, October 27, 2015
Mono Lake Tufa Transition
Falling to a River – Columbia River Gorge, Oregon
Sunset reflections of The Needles, Cannon Beach, Oregon
Sunset on the Oregon coast
Little River Light, Great Smoky Mountains NP, October 30, 2015
Cannon Beach, Oregon
My Favorite Falls – Columbia River Gorge, Oregon
Lake Superior Sunset – Ontonagon, Michigan
Medicine Lake, Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies
Lake Moraine Sunrise, Banff National Park, Canadian Rockies
Lake Louise, Banff National Park, Canadian Rockies
Mount Laurel at Convict Lake, Eastern Sierra, near Mammoth Lakes, California
Mossy Little River, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN, October 27, 2015
Mono Lake Tufa Transition
Falling to a River – Columbia River Gorge, Oregon
Sunset reflections of The Needles, Cannon Beach, Oregon
Two months after I retired, I took a trip with a couple of friends to photograph Colorado. One of the iconic photo-ops in that state is the Maroon Bells Mountain peaks at sunrise that you see above. The sunrise lighting up the top of the mountain is the prize at this location. Many photographers compete for space along the lake shore to get the “best” perspective of this event.
The next photo below gives you some idea of the crowd size, even though I took this pic 30 minutes after the one above, when the crowd was even thicker.
Crowd Thirty Minutes After Best Shot
I do like the so-called sunrise shot, but that scene also makes me feel separate from what I’m looking at. The mountains and lake looked huge, vast, and by comparison I felt so small and distant from it. I walked around the lakes edge until I found a different perspective. I like to capture more of the ground in front of me. It makes me feel more like I was there, and that I could walk into the photograph, the Aspen Stepping Stones.
Maroon Bells, near Snowmass, Colorado
I want to acknowledge my friend, Steve Ornberg—a master at photography trip planning, and an excellent landscape photographer. Steve has since gone on to concentrate on astro-photography and bird photography.
“Through the captured imagery of light, photography allows us to hold fast to one fleeting, ever so precious, moment in time.
~ Howard Simmons. Photographer
Photographing beautiful places in nature in beautiful light has been a passion of mine all my life. These photographs capture a precious moment in time, and my brain, my emotions, also somehow capture moments in time that I did not intend to keep. They may have been hurtful. I may have misjudged people. I may have broken a meaningful relationship. And those memories are still in my mind. They are not precious.
Today, as I think back on the people I may have hurt unjustly, I also wonder whether I can repair that now. What does it mean to be a lifelong friend if I am kicking people to the curb, as if they were nothing to me then. How can I today, years later, harness the power of love—Oneness—in my heart and head?
Perhaps I can look back at those moments with different lenses or filters on my eyes? Perhaps I can change the Lighting of memories that are captured in my head and heart? Perhaps I can edit or post-process or transform the image I have of them, and forgive them, forgive myself?
Perhaps I can recreate the love between us that we used to have.
A river can stop flowing or be rerouted if we allow the stones to accumulate in it instead of working to move them out of the way. The following quote helps me to remember this, to speak about a conflict from a perspective of authenticity and compassion, even though I want to avoid conflict.
I felt angry toward my friend.
I told my wrath. My wrath did end.
I felt angry toward my foe.
I told him not. My wrath did grow.
~ William Blake
Is my former friend really a foe, or did my silence make him so?
Today’s set of photos are about bridges. Bridges as a metaphor of how I can travel on them or construct them in my heart and head, to call that former friend I have left behind.
I believe making a phone call is not a bridge too far.
The Structure of Crossing – Bridge at Cascade Locks, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon
Otter Creek Loop Bridge – Oregon Coast
Into the Woods – Oregon
Black Partridge Bridge #2 – Black Partridge Woods, Lemont, IL
Falls in Fall – Cuyahoga Valley NP, Ohio
Great Smoky Mountain Bridge – Great Smoky Mountains NP, Tennessee
Light Bridge – Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL
Multnomah Falls, Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area, Oregon
The Structure of Crossing – Bridge at Cascade Locks, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon
Otter Creek Loop Bridge – Oregon Coast
Into the Woods – Oregon
Black Partridge Bridge #2 – Black Partridge Woods, Lemont, IL
Falls in Fall – Cuyahoga Valley NP, Ohio
Great Smoky Mountain Bridge – Great Smoky Mountains NP, Tennessee
Light Bridge – Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL
Multnomah Falls, Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area, Oregon
“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
– From Article II of the Constitution
When my mind strays from where I am, I create a tension between two places that blocks me from the sensation of being fully alive, from being authentic.
When I incorporate a fullness of attention, or mindfulness, into my daily life, I seldom notice it. But if I should interrupt my flow of being by my mind straying somewhere else, I will stumble just as surely as if I were to stop seeing or breathing.
No matter how far or how long I am straying, it is the practice of returning to whatever moment I am living now that restores me. Only when I am fully present in each moment can I draw strength from the oneness of things.
I call this mindfulness.
Since I learned the result of the last presidential election, my mind’s strayfullness quotient has skyrocketed! I find myself angry, fearful, and sad at witnessing actions that are unconstitutional. From these emotions and thoughts, my mind strays to asking the question: What can I do to save our democracy? To that end, I was inspired by these words today from Joyce Vance from Civil Discourse:
“One of the most important things each of us can do is to continue to inform the folks around us. I had a fabulous conversation with some very smart people yesterday who told me how they were engaging their friends… We all agreed that “planting seeds” is important, and that can take many different forms. However you go about it, we have to do our part.”
Today, I spoke to two people at the gym who I consider friendly, and they agreed to receive from me an email about the independent news sources I follow via email subscriptions.
I am starting this daily practice of inviting friendly people to learn what is happening to our democracy by accepting one email from me.
