Transformation at Glass Beach

Before I arrive at Glass Beach, I walk through a field of tall grass. Pink and green heads dance in the wind. I smell salt—feel the tingle of it against my cheeks.

Atop a headland cliff, I peer out to the Pacific. Three harbor seals reposition themselves on ocean mesas by wriggling. I wriggle, too—down a narrow passage. One side is wallpapered in ice plants.

A single plant has escaped and taken root in a pool of glass and stone.

The beach is strewn with rocks, tumbled glass . . .

and seaweed. One particular stone resembles red, gray and white marble. Could it be? Did someone toss a broken marble urn into the sea years ago?

Red plastic smoothed by the rolling waves seems like an obvious intruder—its porcelain neighbor seems intrinsic—yet both are trash. This spot could be called Trash Beach, not Glass Beach. Yet we, collectively, are fascinated by what the waves have done to our garbage—its transformation.

I see two clumps of seaweed. I am transforming them in my mind as I view them: a fringed red petticoat; a folded crepe drizzled with pureed spinach.

What else can I transform? My life, perhaps?

As if on cue, I notice a threadlike bit of seaweed shaped like a young tree. I realize I have the ability to become . . . . But become what? Anything. Anything I set my mind to.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

If you like these blogs, you’ll most likely enjoy my daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.