Sometimes I need help sorting things out. 
I’m an extremely introspective person, so I sort out a lot of things through prayer and dialogue with God. 
But other perspectives are helpful, too: 
friends, 
family, 
therapists 
and Friends (with a capital “F”) at Quaker meeting. 
I don’t have to be ashamed to seek guidance in these other ways,
although I often am because depending on others makes me feel weak. 
Why do I feel stronger when I depend on God but weaker when I ask for human help? 
Whether this is something I was taught externally or created internally, I’m not sure. 
As a Quaker I believe there is “that of God” in each person, so when I ask for human help, I am getting a bit of Divine help as well. 
When I step outside my shame about needing support, 
I discover a wide array of wise people 
who are ready and willing to assist me in becoming a better person.
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.
Cairns help guide us along a path that leads to a destination already known to at least one person. 
I often go photo beachcombing. 
Even stalwart stones look different with every change of light.
There are as many mysteries in life as there are in the sea. What do I do when I feel parts of me have been torn away? 
One of the surprising things about traversing the trails along the Mendocino coast is that one moment you may be on top of a cliff, 
or a plant that looks like a living rock and sends out floral antennae for wandering pollinators.
Christmas gifts can be anything you perceive them to be: frankincense, the sounds of drumming, a walk on Glass Beach…
I’m having one of those days. I feel all washed up. My body aches down to the marrow. Although I know this is a vast exaggeration, I also feel emotionally dramatic.
Even my soul feels compromised, as if it is vulnerable to negativity.
Talking with God always helps. After spewing out grumpy hopelessness, these words came to me: I AM . . . here. With you. Now.
I drifted into silent meditation. Something God told me years ago came to mind: When I’ve spiraled down to the bottom, I must go to the center where I’ll find a spiral staircase to ascend.
When I reached the staircase, I saw myself transform into a fly and flew right up to the top. I didn’t even need to trudge up the stairs!
When I was finished praying I felt the urge to go for a walk and ended up at Glass Beach.
I realized I was in good company—everything on the beach was washed up, too. And how marvelous all of it was!
A piece of glowing amber glass caught my eye—trash transformed. The Light always brings me back from the brink of despair to a place of reflective insight. I am ever grateful for this repeated mystery.
I tiptoe through a channel of slippery rocks at low tide, knowing that one misstep will plunge me into … knee-deep water and ruin my sneakers. Not exactly treacherous, yet my body pumps with fear nonetheless. My anxious discomfort is worth the reward: ankle-deep stands of beach glass. What difficulty worth looking into do I need to face?
A photographer’s dream lies before me: craggy rocks, unreal blue pools of water, shapely crevices and the ever-present glass sand. What crevices in my life need exploring?
Emerald cellophane seaweed makes its own green river complete with currents. Am I enough as I am?
A rock tunnel invites me to crawl through it, the blinding light at its end beckoning me forth. When I am called to get on my knees, do I stubbornly try to stay on my feet, bending just enough to enter into the Light?
A picturesque spill of brown, clear and Kelly green glass waits for high tide to dislodge it. When I feel low and stuck, do I believe the Mighty Waters will set me free?
A mound of seaweed calls to mind a burning bush, licked by green flames. Do I believe God speaks to me in unusual ways? Am I continually seeking God’s Presence?
I would like to think I’m listening, and telling the story I hear. For I believe all creation speaks of its Creator. What do you hear?
By-the-wind sailors are free-floating sea creatures that harness the power of the wind via stiff little sails attached to their backs to move about. What can I learn from them?
When the wind is too strong, they can become stranded and dry out. Moderation keeps me on course.
Yet while supple, they can be the most beautiful shade of blue or purple, which is why they are also known as “blue sail jellyfish” or “purple sail.” Pliability rather than rigidness helps me navigate life more smoothly.
Velella are individual colonies. Many are one and one is many—therefore, they can never be alone. Neither can I, for I am one with all. Each of us operates within the all-encompassing singularity of God.
I love to walk. The unexpected is around every corner. A pink rubbery heart placed on the trestle bridge scripted with the word “love” made me smile. As did the blindingly yellow spikes of an ice plant—one leaf was even striped!
Rounding a bluff, I looked down to see shimmering water scallop its way up the beach—the flattened waves edged in light.
I made my way down to the sand and was met by strange sights: a shapely cartilaginous blob, ocean-smoothed glass and a flat ribbon of seaweed seemingly growing out of a rock.
A feather floated like an airborne tree in a nearby tide pool. Far above, a real tree captured my attention with its tangled trunk—an inch worm measuring itself.
I followed the squawks of several ravens to a deceased stingray. Its emerging spines resembled stacks of shark teeth or celestial stars set into a fleshy pink sky. Nearly every stage of life and death was within eye’s reach.
I climbed back up the bluff and saw a shadow of my current self against time’s erosion. I am only here for a brief time. I want to pack as much wonder into myself as my body will allow. And when that’s full, I will sardine my spirit until it’s time to swim away.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 