Where Life and Death Meet

Driving snaky Route 1 on an errand, I notice, in my peripheral vision, particularly high waves crashing on a tiny beach. I find a place to pull over and wind down a path where Pudding Creek spills out into the sea. A single swan is swimming there among ducks, as if it is perfectly normal for swans to be set against a backdrop of seaweed and frothing waves. As I look down at my feet, dune grass, lettuce-edged pink seaweed and a blackish pod create a lovely abstract piece of art.

I mosey along and see a swath of ice plants, their flowers bursting forth like pastel suns, petals erupting from the centers in exclamation points. An intricately patterned snail is nestled inside a lavender-pink bloom, finding nourishment and respite there. I understand why.

I’m inside the beach cove now. Tilting my head up, I see a craggy golden rock. It behooves me to look both up and down, for there is glory both above and below. Arms fling up in praise; knees bend to the sand in prayers of supplication and thankfulness.

While close to the ground, I see a broken twig, its buds like hands clawing the sand. An echinoderm is washed up, its lifeless translucent body and thorny arms gently cup the ocean breeze. From what depths did it travel? A fragile, clear jellyfish filled with bubbles rests nearby. Life and death meet dramatically and beautifully on the northern California coast.

Water trickles down from the rock cliffs making a fresh, minuscule stream across the sandy beach. It meanders near a deceased bird whose wings are half buried, yet still graceful. From what heights did it travel? Sea palms, pulled up from the turbulent waters, resemble fantastical flowers. I know that I, too, can be torn from this life at any time. This is why I appreciate the depths and heights—and why I pull over to explore creation without a moment’s hesitation.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

Rediscovering the Dunes

“Day at the Dunes” by Sondra Sula

A day trip to the Michigan dunes with my husband adds a “beachy” flavor to my Gratefulness Walk, as well as a companion for the journey. I quickly come to the realization that flip-flops are not good dune-climbing shoes. I also learn that sometimes the most obvious, yet steepest way up a hill really is easier than tiptoeing through poison ivy along a lesser incline. And surprisingly, a beagle really can jump off a boat seemingly anchored far away, swim to shore, and bite a person’s arm—namely mine. And I love dogs!

“Dune Art” by Sondra Sula

Also remarkable—much life is hidden within the sandy ecosystem of the dunes. Feathers scatter the beach, evidence of seabirds such as terns and seagulls. Along the base of the dunes, nests made of dried grasses are woven close to the ground, amongst low-growing brush. Ladybugs cling to anything that isn’t sand as they make their way inland.

“Spiral Ornament” by Sondra Sula

Tangles of twigs, dune grass, shells, and feathers resemble abstract, three-dimensional artwork created by the lapping lake waves pulling, pushing, tumbling, and twisting. Simple snail shells, bleached white by the burning sun, dot textured sand like spiral ornaments flung across a beige carpet.

As I lift each temporarily buried foot, sand flying in all directions, I slowly move forward. The next step plunges me ankle deep and I repeat the process, desperate to reach the top. But I don’t. I squint up toward the light to see my husband has reached the peak, wildly waving driftwood walking sticks as buzzards circle him.

At that moment I am satisfied and feel no need to summit. My journey is full—full of everything from dog bites to dune hikes. I feel free.

“Dune Debris” by Sondra Sula