Beach Lessons

I’ve been drawn to rough-wave beaches since I was a child gathering snails, mussels and seaweed on the Massachusetts coast. Placid beaches have their place—their calm serenity beckons relaxation.

But stony beaches evoke exploration. Who are we?

Every rock is one of a kind. As are we.

I notice dips and divots, as well as overall shape. Noticing isn’t the same as judging.

Some stones are divided by color but remain united as one entity. Differences can draw us together.

Others have intriguing veins and holes where water runs through or collects. Allow the hollows to be filled to overflowing.

Scuttling crabs use rocks as shelters during daring trips to the surf. Dare to venture from what shelters you—be open to possibility.

These stones are in close proximity, but are not touching. Give those you love room to breathe, then they are more likely to remain close.

I am very aware of the variations within each rock. We are composed of many layers—appreciate each one, for together they create unique you.

Photos © Sondra Sula.

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

If you haven’t read Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, another daily devotional, you may like that, as well.

Everything is Inside

The subzero temperatures have kept me indoors with shades clamped shut against the howling winds. I’ve been wearing an outdoor scarf doubled around my neck in the house, yet my fingertips remain cold. The only place to go is inside my head—to the possibilities of spring.

When I contemplate plants, I realize they contain all that is necessary to continue life anew through seeds, bulbs, corms, rhizomes, roots. When I ruminate on caterpillars, I realize they also possess all they need for complete transformation. Everything is inside.

I also have everything I need to transform into the person I was meant to be. I may not recognize this at first. After all, does a seed look anything like a flower? Does a caterpillar remotely resemble a moth or a butterfly?

If I keep “at it”—feed on spiritual exercise, bask in wonder, continually give thanks for God’s abundance—change is inevitable. I’m even beginning to see a different person when I look in the mirror. My smooth skin now has a pattern of dots and lines. It’s only a matter of time before I feel bumps rising from my shoulder blades. By then, I’ll be ready to fly.

Photo 1: Quaking oat grass. Photo 2: American dagger moth caterpillar; great swallowtail caterpillar; yellow woolly bear caterpillar. Photo 3: Giant leopard moth caterpillar; turbulent phosphila caterpillar; dogbane tiger moth caterpillar. Photo 4: Tent caterpillars; smeared dagger moth caterpillar. All photos © Sondra Sula.

Judge Not

“Basic Instincts” by Sondra Sula

I came across a flower filled to the brim with activity: bees buzzing, bugs snacking on pollen, beetles mating. There was even a moth being eaten by a yellow spider that matched its petaled perch so well, I didn’t realize it was there until I viewed an enlargement of the photograph I had snapped. When I beheld the newly detailed scene on my computer screen, it seemed incredibly immoral: gluttony, sex, murder. But I soon realized this reflected my own human judgment. Every creature was behaving exactly as was intended by its creator.

“The End” by Sondra Sula

I began to consider my judgment of those belonging to the Homo sapiens species. The biblical command to “judge not” has followed me around for decades, tossing examples in my face at every turn. I have consciously been working on becoming a less judgmental person for the past thirty years and am continually amazed by the subtle judgments I continue to make.

Observing nature teaches me numerous lessons because it is a place without judgment. The spider is not passing judgment on the beetle or vice versa. Now if only I can do the same.

“Gorging” by Sondra Sula

Trapped?

“The Strangling” by Sondra Sula

I feel like a coiled tether is wrapped around my neck, only allowing me to venture so far before it snaps back. I feel like a leaf snagged on a rock, desiring to float down river to adventure, but unable to break free. I feel like swirling froth pushed into the shallows, trapped by branches and stones. I see my plight reflected in nature—at every turn I am confronted with another illustration of being held back.

“Trapped” by Sondra Sula

But all this is an illusion. My perception is zeroing in on images that prove my point: that I am trapped. In reality, I always have multiple choices, even when there appears to be only one. The trap is in believing my options are limited.

Sometimes I think I have various choices, but all of them are negative. Also not true. If I expand my outlook, I can flip the concepts of “good” and “bad” on their heads. Is my loss really a gain? Is this delay actually a preparation? In reaching the bottom, can I finally see those stairs that make climbing back up easy?

I wonder what nature will present to me next week? I guess it all depends upon my point of view.

“Held Back” by 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

One Person CAN Make a Difference

“Phlox with Henryii” by Sondra Sula

“Jesus in the Garden” by Sondra Sula

“Phlox with Bee” by Sondra Sula

I often think about how much difference one person can make in the world: Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa. But what about little ol’ me?

Then I glance out the window and see a plethora of phlox in my flower garden and realize that I can and do make a difference in the world.

Years ago I was mesmerized by a pale pink flower edged in dark pink at a local nursery and lifted the plant identification marker to read: phlox. I innocently planted it at the feet of Jesus—a piece of cement statuary lovingly transported from the Florida Keys to northern Illinois in the backseat of our Ford station wagon, and then hoisted into the backyard garden.

“Backlit” by Sondra Sula

“Striations” by Sondra Sula

Fast forward to today’s garden filled with hundreds of phlox of every hue between white and violet. The plants are so tall I can’t even see the crown of Jesus’ head, much less his feet. And the diversity in pattern is astounding thanks to the many insects involved in the cross-pollination process. All of this exuberance and vibrancy from one tiny plant.

As I stroll through this garden (perhaps struggle through the tangle is more apt) I’m aware that I am like that original pink picotee phlox. Nourished by the natural world—sun, sky, flora, fauna—and blessed by the light of Christ, my little Gratefulness Walks are spreading out beyond the borders of my mind into the tangible realm. Making one person’s life a little brighter spreads out to touch another and another until fresh gardens of joy lighten every dark place.

“Cross-Pollination at Work” by Sondra Sula

Embracing Transition

“Sudden Change” by Sondra Sula

There are moments in life when a realization dawns that it’s time to move on. Perhaps the move is sudden, in mid-stride, like a cicada breaking free from its wingless exoskeleton to explore a life of flying. Or it can be subtle, like an inkberry transitioning from bud to fruit along its stem, changing gradually.

“Considering Flight” by Sondra Sula

“Gradual Transition” by Sondra Sula

I fall into the sweet pea category. Everything is happening at once on the sweet pea vine: buds, blooms, beans. One part of me feels energetic and green, ready to take on the world with open-eyed wonder. Another part feels in full flower, that I am exactly who I was always meant to be. Simultaneously, I feel spent—my colors are fading, my suppleness withering.

And within this still point at which all time collides, I welcome the bean. The pod looks nothing like the flower and keeps growing beyond previous boundaries. The bean, like encapsulated wisdom, contains everything necessary to recreate itself. This fresh incarnation may mimic its predecessor, but is actually an entirely new plant.

However one chooses to move on, be it dramatically or imperceptibly, embracing the change is the surest way to fully enjoy the freedoms a new stage of growth provides.

“Welcoming the Bean” by Sondra Sula

Inevitable Movement

“Escaping the Wind” by Sondra Sula

Everything is moving. Some things, such as dragonfly wings, are moving so fast we can barely see them, and other things, such as rocks, are moving so slowly, they appear to be stationary. Have you ever been standing outside and thought: the earth is moving me right now, rotating me from day to night to day? Well, it’s true!

“Teasel Layer Cake” by Sondra Sula

A mighty wind was present today as I walked with great confidence on the surface of our spinning planet, completely unaware as to whether I was walking with the movement or against it. The wind allowed me access to insects that would normally be too speedy to photograph up close because they were trying to shelter themselves. I was also able to see plants moving: petals fluttering, flowers sailing, and leaves bracing against bursts of air.

“Queen of Spades” by Sondra Sula

When I get stuck and feel like I’m going nowhere, it helps me to remember that the whole earth is moving me. The dark night will turn into day even if I’m standing still. And if I defiantly run counter to the rotation, I will eventually feel the sunlight on my back anyway because I can’t outwit a movement that’s been happening long before human existence.

“Petals Aflutter” by Sondra Sula

The Bittersweet Baptism of Snow

When snow falls – in gentle, sparkling flakes or driving blizzards – the aftermath is a sweet, pristine world. Where there was once a pile of discarded beer cans and pizza boxes there is now a small rolling hill. A messy square of weeds is now a fluffy duvet. A couch left to rot in the woods is reupholstered in tasteful white. A decrepit shack is now a cozy cabin.

Like a baptism, snow takes everything exactly as it is, dunks it in a pool of white, and voila! Newness, possibility…

But what happens when the snow melts? When the excitement of my fresh beginning has worn off, and I recognize all of the old patterns emerging – the beer cans and weeds? Is the baptism of snow real?

I believe it is. Because the washing clean, the covering over, is actually a transformative process. The debris, the garbage, the abhorrent “thing” was, for a while, perceived as an article of beauty.  When I can see myself as immaculate, brimming with potential, I catch a glimpse of how God sees all of us, baptized in snow.

“Under the Bittersweet” by Sondra Sula

“Three” by Sondra Sula