A Mercer Arboretum Moment

“Nothing is more effective than a deep, slow inhale and release for surrendering what you can’t control and focusing again on what is right in front of you.” ---Oprah Winfrey

Tucked away off a busy four-lane road in northeast Harris County is a little jewel of a place that I’ve come to love.

I’d know about Mercer Arboretum for years, but first walked its trails through gardens and bamboo forests in the fall of 2004, along with my Burning Man traveling companion (BMTC). We spent many Sunday afternoons there over a six-month period. It was the perfect place to wile away a few hours – admission is free, and there’s always something new and interesting to photograph as the seasons change.

BMTC and I went our separate ways in April 2005, and for a long time – more than two years – I avoided the Arboretum. Too busy, I told myself, but the place also held too many memories I was sure would only make me sad. Then one Sunday morning about a year ago, out of the blue, I had to go back there...just had to go. Can’t say why – one minute I was reading the paper and the next minute I was out the door, camera bag slung over my shoulder.

Though it was only 10:30, the day was already well on its way to being miserably hot and humid. I seemed to be the only one at Mercer – no big surprise considering the day, the time and the oppressive heat. I thought about leaving, but lurking alongside the whim to go there had been a certainty that I needed to go there for a reason.

I trudged along the old familiar trails, uncovering at every turn the memories I’d avoided so studiously. The urgency I’d been feeling suddenly seemed silly to me. I saw nothing but sad reminders of a relationship that has been disappointing, at best – certainly nothing worth the bother of slipping the cap off my camera lens.

Then I noticed a little dragonfly flitting from flower to flower. I couldn't recall ever seeing a dragonfly at Mercer, and I wanted a photo of this one. Shaking off my reverie, I sank to my knees, trying not to frighten him away. I raised my camera, adjusted the zoom, shot several frames, and immediately felt better.

That dragonfly had been exactly what I needed to focus on the moment at hand - a deep, slow inhale and release - a small surrender of the past.

By the time I finished my walk that Sunday morning, I had taken more than a dozen photos. Focusing on the living, breathing, here-and-now beauty all around me, I had realized that new memories were mine for the making. Mercer Arboretum had become a place I could easily enjoy – and have enjoyed many times since – all on my own.

A few days after I photographed the dragonfly, I received a postcard from a friend. On the postcard was a picture of…yes…a dragonfly, along with a note that read: In Japan, a dragonfly represents strength, courage and victory. If one appears when you're faced with a major task - like blessing a relationship for lessons learned, laying memories to rest, and living for today - the insect is a sign that you've got what it takes to get the job done.

I hope you smiled when you saw my dragonfly photo - I always do - and I hope you also believe you have what it takes to get the job done, because, my friends, you do!