Every small town has its charm. 
Thermopolis has several, 
one of which is the Wyoming Dinosaur Center. 
I see fossils and bones every day 
inside our home and in the retail shop where my husband and I both work. 
What interests me in natural history museums are models. 
In large part because they are made by artists. 
Artists who are forced to be creative within strict parameters.
How can I be creative, spiritually and otherwise, within the parameters of my present-day life?
What must I do to find my joy?
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.
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.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 