The Fiery Gizzard

     Last Friday, I went on a hiking trip to the South Cumberland Recreation Area. The goal was to capture some of the fall foliage before it was gone and to get a little exercise. My friend Barry had been talking about how beautiful the pictures he had seen of the area were, so we set a date and headed out with another friend of ours.

     The trail we hiked started at the north end of the Fiery Gizzard, up to Raven Point, then looped back along the plateau to where we began. We set off from the trailhead and the grandeur of this place is evident right from the beginning. The descent into the gorge starts immediately. It was a chilly morning and the temperature dropped quickly the further down we went. It was a good motivator to get the blood flowing and make some headway. 

     There was just so much to take in. There is a stream running along side most of the trail. It was mostly a trickle due to the dry weather we’ve had, but the waterline on the rocks showed at some points it would be about twenty feet across at times. The trees are thick, with much of the trail being covered by a web of roots that are hard as rock. 

     And, of course, there’s the rocks. Everywhere.

     Huge rockslides are everywhere in the Fiery Gizzard trail. I’m guessing that’s where the name came from. The Devil’s gall bladder might have been more appropriate. It’s an amazing sight to behold. The landscape is just striped with them. These aren’t Disney rocks all carefully and securely placed, many of them move when you step on them. If you’re thinking of going, make sure you’ve got some good boots. Wearing tennis shoes is asking for an ankle injury, and that’s not good in a place where no vehicles can get to you. 

     It is a completely different world down there. The hike was rough, the scenery was incredible, and I was reminded again how small I am in the universe. There is just something remarkably humbling about being immersed in nature like that. I spent a lot of the day thinking about when I was younger and got out into nature more often, and the people I went there with. Some of them I haven’t seen in a very long time and some of them are just gone. 

     The still of the forest brings back lots of memories. There’s no click or buzz or hum to  distract the mind from opening up places that have gone unnoticed amongst the noise. Places that are always there and always will be. The purity of their makeup doesn’t allow them to compete for attention. Instead, the environment must be just right, and I must be quiet and ready for them to return. Like morning light filtering through the trees, they slowly grow brighter, and the path I need to be on is clearer.

     Share Tweet

Chihuly at Cheekwood

    

     Cheekwood Botanical Gardens will be wrapping up it’s exhibition of Dale Chihuly’s brilliant glass sculptures soon, so you've got just a few more days to make it out there before the show is gone. The gardens provide a natural, organic canvas to showcase the beauty of his designs.

     I arrived a little before sundown with some friends, and the glasswork looks beautiful in daylight. After the sun sets, accent lighting carves out every nuance and curve. The attention to detail is incredible.

     Chihuly's work has been exhibited through installations all over the world, and it is a special treat to have part of his amazing body of work so close to home. The display ends on October 31st. If you plan on making it out there, give yourself enough time to stroll around and soak up the environment. You will not want to rush through this, and there is a lot to see.

     If you don’t have time to make it out, you can see more of my visit over at my Flickr page.

     Share Tweet

Follow Your Bliss

     This is a photo of my nephew. He's 18 months old here. And fast. As soon as I had him in focus and framed in the shot, he took off and this is what I captured. The first time I saw the image I fell in love with it. I didn't expect it to evoke the kind of emotions it does, but the more I look at it the more it means to me.

     His legs are growing strong and he has a fascination with bringing the horizon closer to him.  You should see his face when he runs to his mommy. It's priceless. He is in a beautiful stage of life where running after what makes him happy is pure instinct, and fear takes a backseat to exploration. A living example of following your bliss. I hope he never loses that. I'm trying to learn from his example.

     About three years ago, things were not looking up for me. I was in a rut and had been there for a very long time. The dreams, ideas and aspirations I had in my youth had, like my nephew in the photo above, slowly gone out of focus and away from me. That's what happens when you stand still in life. It keeps going on whether you join the parade or watch it go by. I would go through my day with this weight hanging on me like a lead winter coat that I could not take off. I felt suffocated. I couldn't find relief, only escape, and that never lasted very long. The problem with escape is the comfort it brings only sticks around if the pursuer stops pursuing. Try as I might, I could not escape myself.

     If the conscience is the truant officer of the soul, then mine is like Tommy Lee Jones in "The Fugitive", relentless, dogged, uncompromising. I could think of very logical reasons why it was perfectly okay to spend one more day in misery. Why the task of living life to it's fullest was suited for better men than me. Why the risk of taking chances exceeded any possible reward. Why the idea of following your bliss was the luxury of the independently wealthy or mentally deranged. I could spout all these with conviction and there, standing shin deep in what was left of my life's blood, holding his hands up as I held him hostage, was my conscience saying,"I DON'T CARE!"

     Well, I started listening and I'm glad I did. I've always had this part of me that believed that anything is possible. What one person can do, another can do. I'm attracted to stories of survival against the odds and the redemption and endurance of the human spirit. Stories that remind me not to take life for granted and that it's never too late to turn it all around. It's a great thing to be alive, and I'm glad I'm here.

     I do my best to follow my bliss these days. It's all around me. It just depends on which lens I look through whether I see it. Sometimes it's closer, sometimes it's farther away, but it's always in sight. I use a camera to chart my progress and I'm grateful for such a wonderful tool that allows me to find out more about myself and those around me.

     Here's another shot of my nephew. He looks like a student here, but he's really the teacher.

Share Tweet