What do you do 
when the weight of the world 
feels too heavy to bear? 
Cry out? 
Dig in? 
Shop 
to distract yourself? 
Drive away 
to somewhere desolate, 
beautiful, 
lonely 
or mysterious? 
Stay in a motel for the night and lose yourself in the bedspread’s pattern? 
Look for permanence through fossils, 
ancient objects 
or solid cement statuary that won’t easily disintegrate? 
Amuse yourself with strange creatures 
and odd juxtapositions? 
When there’s no more room for anger, 
let peace rain down softly from the trees. Peace and light.
Photos © Sondra Sula.
Take a walk with me by reading my daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.
If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.
Out-of-the-way places in tiny towns where we would never normally stop became easily accessible destinations along our journey.
Like this second-hand store, which was closed, but still provided us with plenty of through-the-window wonders.
Including Donald Duck.
We also discovered an outdoor statuary “store” along a lonesome highway’s frontage road.
We were greeted by a giant eagle whose talons hovered just above our heads.
A pig was guarding a gazebo.
Along with a rusty swan.
A baby Sinclair dinosaur in a wild shade of green paused from munching on dry grass and smiled.
And a tiny flat horse tied to a post waited indefinitely along the side of a barn for someone to take it home.
We laughed when we saw a rooster and giraffe, both the same size, towering over us.
What I like most about these odd attractions—American eccentricity at its best—is the wonder they engender. Seeing with fresh eyes even allowed us to appreciate a common housefly. It came to feast on a drop of chocolate malt that had fallen on our table when we stopped for lunch.
My husband hunts dinosaurs. He spends months digging in the dry, dusty ground to expose vertebrae, ribs, femurs, skulls, and if he’s lucky, an articulated skeleton. The work is thrilling, tedious and physical. A hat is his only shade and water must be carried in on his back.
My style of dinosaur hunting is a bit less intense. It involves finding artists’ sculptures of these fantastical creatures—the crazier the better. Vernal, Utah provided a plethora of possibilities from humorous to realistic.
The “terrible lizards” peeked around every corner; some smiling, some roaring.
One even seemed to be swimming through the air. A T. rex appeared to be bullying a triceratops, who wasn’t frightened in the least. A Rodney Dangerfield type—arms and claws extended—gave the impression of imploring an imaginary audience for respect.
A hefty stegosaurus and zebra-like who-knows-what created their own horizons against the sky.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 