As I moseyed down to the tidepools at MacKerricher State Park, I noted a young lovey-dovey couple pointing down at something near their feet. The old me would have been too shy to approach them, but the new me always puts curiosity over convention.
“What did you find?” I asked them.
“A starfish!” they both exclaimed in unison. I didn’t have the heart to tell them marine scientists have replaced the name “starfish” with “sea star” since they are echinoderms, not fish.
We soon parted ways and I discovered another sea star crawling along a rock. Its bright orange back mesmerized me. It’s difficult to conceive of these cute critters as powerful predators. But they are. Just ask any snail.
I passed a group of pudgy globules with debris stuck to them: broken shells, pottery, pebbles and sea urchin spines. I soon realized they were closed-up sea anemones waiting for the tide to rise before reopening. What a unique disguise, I thought. Afterwards I conscientiously picked my way through the rocks, careful not to step on one inadvertently.
I spied a bit of brilliant orange in the distance. I gingerly tiptoed to the spot. A fat sea star stood vertically against a rock, its seductive textured surface so tempting to touch. But I knew better—human touch can harm them.
Climbing a set of stairs back to the boardwalk above, I considered what I had learned from the tide pools: exposure creates intimacy. When we let “low tide” expose our vulnerabilities, we allow others to see the real us. And for that we all deserve gold stars.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
My most recent daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula, is available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions. It is also sold at the Gallery Bookshop in Mendocino.
I came upon this directive as I walked along the Mendocino headlands: Be Sacred. Hmm.
As I passed a gully brimming with calla lilies, I pondered a film I had seen of Mexican villagers gathering armfuls of callas for a funeral. Are these flowers inherently sacred?
On a cliff’s edge, another message: We Love You Melody. It was rendered in bottlecaps. The love was implied by a heart shape. Had Melody gone to meet The Sacred?
A large bench welcomed visitors to take in the view: a roiling, turbulent ocean. When I sat down, I felt small—engulfed within the wide planks. Is part of our sacredness our admission that we are but specks in the universe, yet still important?
A nearby sculpted totem included recesses for offerings. Everything I passed seemed to be sacred in some way. Even the rocks had a holiness to them—their veins an ancient scrawled language. Is every created thing sacred?
I wondered if I was sacred by simply being. Looking out over the vast shoreline, I believed I was.
Come sit with me. This bench was made for two.
Take in the delicate curves of the fava bean bloom; its exquisite veining. A masterpiece in black and white.
Join me in the magnolia grove where hairy, colorless buds burst into brilliant bloom.
Small pink waterfalls cascade down to lush emerald foliage. Drink in the sight.
A picoted bud is just beginning its cycle, while right next door a fern leaf is ending its cycle. Beauty before me, beauty behind me… comes to mind from an old Navajo prayer.
One calla lily boasts perfection, the other, while torn and ragged, possesses a beauty all its own. Beauty all around me—around us.
Our journey is about to end. But not the way it has for this sea urchin. Like the neighboring mushroom whose spores continue its journey, ours begins anew each time we open our eyes to wonder.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 