I’m feeling lost. How do I find direction?
Which way should I go?
If I take the path I’ve used before, will I get there faster?
If I discover a new path,
will it be precarious and difficult? 
Withdrawing into myself won’t help. 
I need to be increasingly open 
to make the way clear. 
Listening always helps. 
I’m able to hear the still, small voice.
These paths that seem disparate are connecting at The Source! I choose one and move on.
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.
What message do the plants have to impart today? I say today because they are constantly communicating with me, in subtle or overt ways. This Scotch broom asks me: Do you know why we are this amazing color, when most of us are plain yellow? Cross-pollination. The mixing of our gene pool creates beauty untold.
The succulents: Praise be! We raise ourselves up in joy to greet each new day.
Wild radish: The patterns on our petals resemble feathered angel wings. Know that you are surrounded at all times with goodness; we are cheering for you.
Ice plant bloom: The Center is where things are happening. My delicate fringe will fall, but my center will become fruit and seed—nourishment and progeny.
Rock-clinging plants: We hold fast to our Foundation, even when the ground shifts below us.
White-edged flower: Little though I am, the bee still finds its way to me.
Foxglove buds: We are not mute. When we are ready, we open like trumpets and herald the truth.
Yellow ground cover: We may be tiny, but together, we change the face of the earth.
Even though I’m considered an essential worker and still drive to a medical office, I am more aware of those who, like my husband, are relegated to stay at home. What if I was confined to the boundaries of my yard? What would I discover?
Plenty. As I was exploring, I kept doing double takes. I realized I had stopped looking closely at flowers I walked by every day, like Scotch broom and redwood violets.
Some plants had become nothing more than annoyances to mow around, but when I stooped down to really look at them,
I found them fascinating.
And even though some of the blooms—like wild onion and salal—were considered mere weeds or pests, there was no denying their delicate beauty.
The common rock rose with its crinkled pinking-shear-edged petals and the English daisy rising from the grass were alarmingly complex, though seemingly simple from a distance.
The bunny ears lavender, which had merely become something that tickled my leg when I walked to the car, was surprisingly furry and full of veins. A bush in the front yard was so overlooked, I didn’t realize it was Cistus x skanbergii, a relative of the neighboring rock rose, Cistus Creticus.
Along the front walkway, a camellia nearly struck my nose. Underneath it, a scraggly Azalea had begun to bloom.
The compost garbage can, tucked behind our driveway’s cattle guard, was nearly crushing a brilliant ground cover. Not far from that, a red tea tree blazed in full flower.
Behind the house, a pear tree had come back to life after having been clawed to pieces by a hungry bear last fall. Ahhh, persistence in the face of adversity.
Even the side yard offered a treat: tiny pendulous purple flowers that resembled alien insects rising over sharp sword-like leaves.
When I returned to the house I sat down at the kitchen table and, looking out the window, I spied one last delight out on the deck. On a large piece of driftwood, a variety of small succulents clung. My husband had bought me the living arrangement as gift when we first arrived at our new home.
Home sweet home. If you’re stuck there I’d suggest looking around. You may be surprised what you find—you may even do a double take.
The boardwalk beckons. I have to duck under a fallen tree to enter. I know I can fall in love with what’s under the boardwalk, but I also know there’s plenty of fun to be had just looking over its sides.
Take, for instance, this easy-to-pass-by white flower. Look closely and each tiny bloom is an explosion of excitement.
Below the boardwalk a lazy creek meanders, reflecting the trees and sky above. Animal footprints dot the muddy shores. Moss creeps over fallen logs, intent on full coverage. An entire ecosystem thrives.
How do I thrive? By stopping to enjoy a cabbage butterfly as it rests momentarily on a leaf. By noticing a fallen pine cone’s perfectly pointed tip. By recognizing that black nightshade resembles shooting stars.
What makes you thrive? Beholding a flower? Immersing yourself in nature? Watching clouds pass by? Sitting in silence watching the stars? Listening to the laughter of someone you love? Seek out whatever it is—and then enjoy it. For it is your gateway to your own “boardwalk.”
I was walking on an old logging road, taking a photo of raindrops balancing on a scotch broom bloom, when I heard the sound of a dirt bike. My neighbor had told me that the ATV and dirt bike riders he encountered when walking in this area were usually respectful, so I thought nothing of it.
One of the prayers I recite every day is: I choose to understand why people do what they do. And I have to admit, I felt that I did understand why he—and yes, it was a he—did it. It was simply funny to him: She’s turned the other way and I’ll soak her—she’ll never see it coming.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Ravens sing—are you listening? On Summers Lane, rain is glistening. It’s a lovely sight (and I’m happy all right) walking in this “winter” wonderland.
In the meadow blackberries begin to bloom. It’s not pretend that spring is on the way. You might say: Are you kidding me? But I’ll say: No, it’s true in this town.
In the forest I can build a tree house, or just a spot to sit and meditate. I’ll enjoy the richness of the air, and if I’m looking might just see a slug.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Old logging roads form a number of trails near the place I now call home. They are used by hikers, joggers, ATV enthusiasts, mountain bikers, dog walkers, equestrians—you name it. Some of the roads get plenty of traffic, while others are nearly forgotten. But all of them have gifts to offer.
The sun shone through tips of prickly thistles, curvy-edged leaves and the fuzzy hairs fringing dried Scotch broom pods. Although these plants are quite ordinary on the northern California coast, the strong light gave me the feeling that they were extraordinary.
That feeling of specialness extended to the debris I encountered, too. An exhaust pipe looked as if it were sneaking into the woods to reunite with its muffler. A perforated piece of rusty metal brought garden-row order to the chaos of emerging seedlings. And a cobra-like bungee cord, caught mid slink, gave off an air of regalness despite its current state of being trod upon.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Wistfully walking around the other half of our new yard, I am perplexed yet pleased at every turn. Perplexed because I’m full of questions: What is the name of that flower? Is it an annual or a perennial? Does it grow naturally or was it planted? Is it exotic or common? I am pleased because even the tiniest weed registers as gorgeous to my eye, and the flora has unabashedly presented itself for the visual “taking.”
Examining my own life, I realize there are times for pruning and pulling, and other times for observing and accepting. Akin to the wisdom of watching one’s yard for a year before digging or cutting, I must be keenly tuned in to a frequency of awareness without judgment as I settle into a fresh life.
I am seeking clues to my next steps. Do I let events evolve naturally or do I plot out my life garden’s design? Do I scatter seed to witness the embryonic emerging or do I make room for a mature plant?
I am still wandering my way through the property’s rich floral brocade and through my own spiritual tapestry. As time passes, I will become more familiar with my surroundings and my own life path. But there will always be surprises. Anticipating them is half the fun.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 