Wood Wisdom

I have never seen wood look so red in the wild. I jump across the stream that enters the beach as a trickling waterfall dropping off the headlands. The water is absolutely clear. I am grateful for that which is still pristine.

A bulb kelp presented on a painterly log resembles a snake eating its tail. It creates a never-ending loop. God, how do I become whole? How do I touch Your Infinity without being consumed?

An ochre stone rests in the groove of driftwood. Help me, God, to rest in Your everlasting arms.

I come across a washed-up tree trunk. On one end I see two “eyes,” one of which is covered by sand. I must first remove the sand from my own eye so I can clearly see how to help remove the speck from another’s eye.

On the other end I see another set of “eyes,” but one of them is just a pucker, as if squinted closed. God, how do I perceive Your depth without both eyes wide open?

Seaweed encircles a log, clasped shut like a necklace. I must allow myself to be embraced by beauty, by God.

I pass a trunk that looks pocked, wounded. God, heal what disfigures me.

Near it, a smooth stick rests against hole-ridden sand. Beach creatures have probably dug these holes to breathe, eat or hide. How do I find holy ground? How do I breathe the breath of Spirit?

A small piece of driftwood has been carved by wind and water. What parts of myself need to be carved away and sent adrift?

As I pass a seaweed pod, I feel its aloneness on the vastness of the beach. And yet, I am never alone.

Friends, family, neighbors, God—they are all with me, supporting me through thick and thin. Holding me up.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

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

Trunks

I glanced down to see the bottom of a tree trunk encircled in a profusion of tiny yellow daisies, and another complemented at its base with purple companion plants. I decided to focus my camera and my mind on the place where a tree’s foundational support meets the soil. A mystery of root webs concealed from view keeps the trees grounded and nourished. I must remain rooted in God for balance, support and nourishment.

Other trunks let a few of their roots show, displaying their connection to the earth. Lord, let me know the right times to publicly demonstrate my devotion to You, and when to allow its intuitive interpretation.

I passed a tree’s base that was split, yet intertwined. When I differ in opinion with another, let me remember our greater bond of oneness, inextricably uniting us.

Diverse color and texture abounded: peeling, paper-thin rusty orange bark, gray lichen-encrusted trunks, even young bark that was red on one side and olive-gold on the other. We may look different on the outside, but our life-sustaining “sap” still comes from the same Wellspring.

Lastly, I zeroed in on a large tree’s undulating bark. It flowed down vertically in rivulets of green-tinted gray over a reddish-brown backdrop. A single eye had formed where a branch had been severed. The healed wound offered insight: We are all in the flow. We can fight it and seek to drag ourselves to dry land or we can float effortlessly to The Source and join all others who have gathered there for fellowship. I choose the easy channel to companionship.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

Chew on This

“Gnawed Patterns” by Sondra Sula

“Beaver vs. Trunk” by Sondra Sula

I had an errand to run several towns north of my home and took advantage of the trip to visit my favorite forest preserve. As I was looping back to the car, I saw a fat, pencil-stub shape protruding from the ground – the telltale sign of beaver territory.

I ventured closer and the downed trunk came into view, stripped of its bark by strong teeth that had left a surprisingly pretty pattern of gnaw marks. Because I was nearing the edge of a pond, I knew I had to be close to the beaver’s den and found it quite easily with only leafless brush and briars to camouflage its entrance. I was aware that my chances of seeing the beaver were slim because it was midday. Even so, I kept my distance from the entry just to be safe. I never saw as much as a patch of fur, nor heard the slap of a leathery tail.

Continuing on, I quickly came to a small tree that must have irritated and perplexed the hungry beaver. Although it had chewed the multiple trunks in its accustomed manner, the tree did not fall. The upper branches had spread out and the entire tree was being held up by the smaller trees and bushes around it.

“Held Up” by Sondra Sula

I felt an affinity to the tree in that I am often “held up” by others and God, even when I feel that my connections are severed. Even when I feel like I’m teetering, about to fall, support comes miraculously from underneath and buoys me.

There will always be beavers gnawing tree trunks, because that’s what they do. And I will always have difficulties that can strip me bare, or try to topple me. But I will also have confidence I’ll be held up by God, and my forest of friends and family, because that’s what they do, too.