“Cattail Eye” by Sondra Sula“Yellow Milkweed” by Sondra Sula
I wandered off the ridge I traverse nearly every day and followed a deer trail down to a swampy area encircling a pond. As I tiptoed from one raised clump of grass to another, trying to keep my feet dry, I noticed an oddly shaped cattail. Two plumes had joined on a single stem, creating an “eye.”
I was reminded of the Bible verse in which two people join together to become one. Although this refers to marriage, I believe that every time we find common ground with another, we form a bond of unity. Friends often feel they have “like minds.” Twins have been known to sense one another’s feelings. New research suggests that some pets can pick up on human thoughts and modify their behavior even when separated by vast distances.
When two become one, a brand new “eye” is created with which to view the world. My hope is for this combined vision to generate a future of solidarity.
“Three Landscapes” by Sondra Sula“Green Veins” by Sondra Sula
I like to get close to nature—literally. If I see an interesting leaf, not only will I walk right up to it, I’ll bring my eyeball to within an inch of its veiny surface. But there’s also something to be said for the long view, the vista, the place where trees blur against the horizon.
When I can’t see where the path is going because it bends beyond my vision, I must walk by faith, believing the path continues and leads towards a place I need to go. I don’t give up simply because I can’t see the journey’s end. And I also don’t take to the trail with blinders on, marching hastily through without stopping to enjoy the scenery.
If an obstacle is in my path, I can choose to go over, under, or around it. There are even times I need to go through it. Coming out on the other side is almost always accompanied by a sense of accomplishment.
“Overcoming Obstacles” by Sondra Sula
I’ll eventually come to an open area where I can turn around, take a breather, and see where I’ve been. These respites are helpful to reflect upon my progress, to feel the energy I’ve spent has brought me to a new place, that I’m not simply back where I started.
I may not be sure where I am on the journey, but I do know I’m closer to the horizon—and the view is a sight to behold.
Autumn is a time during which I hold on tight to every glory and magnificence, reluctant to ease my grip for even a moment lest the season pass me by. Yet that is exactly what I must do: let go. I’m quick to find the last blooming dandelion in our yard, but when I draw near, I see a yellow jacket upon it, struggling due to its battered, broken wings. I could not save it even if I tried, because the worker wasps are slated to die before winter sets in. What I can do is witness its struggle, appreciate its beauty, acknowledge its purpose in the world, and then let go.
Further along my walk, I spot a paper wasp nest hidden within a juniper bush. The delicate layers look like squiggles of flattened yarn in shades of gray. I smile and reminisce about sitting in my garden, listening to paper wasps scrape the old bamboo poles that secure my tall plants during the summer. The wasps’ masticated wood pulp spittle creates these magnificent lantern-like structures. I soon realize the nest is abandoned and all the wasps have perished, save the queen who is safely tucked away elsewhere.
“Singed Clover” by Sondra Sula“Crab Apples Clinging” by Sondra Sula
A hairy green milkweed pod brings to mind its ball of waxy mauve summer flowers. Then I imagine the fun I’ll have shaking the pods when they have browned and dried, bursting at the seams to reveal miniature petticoat seeds. I am retreating into the past and springing into the future instead of experiencing now. I must simply let go of before and after to enjoy the present.
I see a blooming clover and am beckoned by its brilliant hue. Pulled in, I notice the flaming pink tongues that form the floret are singed brown at one edge from frost. I must release my desire for an extended growing season and let nature continue her necessary cycles. I move on.
Crab apples and orange maple leaves desperately cling to now-brittle branches, but resistance is futile: it’s time to let go.
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.
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.
"Sowthistle, Prairie Dock, Mullein" by Sondra Sula
“Sowthistle, Prairie Dock, Mullein” by Sondra Sula
These days I’ve been waking up and asking myself: why bother? Am I doing anything that’s actually contributing to the world? Does my life matter if I only touch a handful of people? Is my mere existence enough?
Whenever I ask these questions, God is quick to answer (if I bother to listen) that simply existing is plenty. I’m shown this over and over in nature. Do I ask a flower why it bothers to bloom? Do I demand it give me a reason for its existence? Yet when I behold its gracious petals, complex textures, and surprising colors I am stunned into silent worship. Am I not as precious as a flower, here today and gone tomorrow?
I decide I need a Gratefulness Walk. In less than an hour I pass five fabulous flowers that capture my attention and give me hope to meet the morning.
“Back-to-Back Sharing” by Sondra Sula
The first is a common sowthistle, its brilliant, shaggy petals radiating out like a glorious sun. Within the blossom’s central curly threads, a metallic green sweat bee is curving its body to glean what is necessary for its own absolutely worthwhile existence.
I then encounter the slender, fast-growing stalks of the prairie dock, already towering over the tall grasses. Their bulbous green, alien-like globules create expectations of bizarre-looking blooms, but the flowers are quite ordinary, mimicking yellow daisies. God already knows what’s wrapped up in my “package” and so there’s no room for disappointment as I bloom.
Moving farther down the path, a furry mullein catches my eye, and as I peer closer, I note its petals are subtly veined, like my skin. The entire lemon-hued cup is really one piece, and the sense that the petals are separated is only an illusion—a perfect illustration of my connection to God.
What’s this? From afar I see only a golden spray of petals, but as I venture closer, a bouquet of tiny blooms forms the center of this pale-leaved sunflower. A hoverfly, and a leaf-legged bug that hints at transformer capabilities, stand back-to-back willing to share their prize. I learn from their wisdom.
Before my walk ends, I spy an Echinacea pushing its prickly central whorl outward while its pale purple petals arc back as if pressed by wind. A minuscule particle of yellow pollen contrasts against the maroon and emerald spikes, drawing me in. Sometimes revealing the tiniest part of oneself is enough to offer to the world.
“Thawing Ridge” by Sondra Sula“Snowy Burger Revealed” by Sondra Sula“Encased Butt” by Sondra Sula
Suddenly there is a break in the sub-zero temperatures of northern Illinois and the mercury is climbing. Over a foot of snow is melting quickly, and all the debris that was concealed by the glittering white fluff is once again being revealed.
“Love Cast Aside” by Sondra Sula“Oh, Wendy” by Sondra Sula
For me, the litter represents addiction, whether it be to food, nicotine, alcohol, or something stronger. I keep coming back to the same craving over and over again, no matter how much I try to bury it under the snow. But when the big thaw arrives in the spring, I see the addiction more clearly, and it isn’t as attractive as it was when I first buried it.
“Burn for Renewal” by Sondra Sula
Because spring is a time of renewal, I feel the energy, the hope that this is the year I will change, that this year everything is possible. And perhaps it is.
As light dances on the cut fields, the broken dry grass, and the burnt prairie, I am absolutely certain greenness will rise from the roots and become something unimaginably sturdy and tall. This grass will withstand trampling, munching, drought, and flood. Some of it will tower over my head, provide cover for newborn fawns, and control erosion.
If I am willing to be reborn, God and the earth are cheering me on, showing me the cycle of miracle built into the system of nature. My renewed self, free of debris, can grow from firm roots and what I’ve learned from past addictions can lead to future strengths.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 