I love you — yes you — so much that it’s almost painful. 
Before you were formed I knew you. 
I watched you exit the birth canal with glee. 
I count every hair on your head as it changes daily. 
I know your entire family tree, 
who your closest friends are, 
all of your dreams and aspirations. 
I know what you have done in the past 
and what you have yet to do. 
I know when and how you depart from this earthly life 
and journey to the next. 
I know you past, present and future. 
And because of that, I love you. 
Yes, you — especially you — because you are uniquely, soulfully you.
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.
For one, you can eat your sack lunch anywhere, even along a refreshing snow-melt stream in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming. 
This past Sunday our Quaker query was: Do I embrace Joy as a companion on my spiritual journey? 
The day was ever changing. Cloudy and drained of color one moment, sunny and bright the next. This outer undulation moved inward causing me to feel both hopeless and hopeful.
I entered a field of taupe: tall dry grasses and thistle. Death mixed with the promise of new life in each seed. Starry thistle seeds brought to mind the question: for what do I wish? With one puff of breath two seeds were airborne seeking fresh beginnings.
As I followed their trajectory I saw a ladybug exploring a spent flowerhead. Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. But where is home? I wondered silently. Has home become anywhere I am?
Can home be on a precipice, looking down at the rocks below? Do I need to feel comfortable with unease?
This could become an endless rabbit hole, I reasoned when I stumbled across an actual hole in the ground. But as I faced the darkness and mystery of the unknown, a thought came to me: perhaps this hole contains the very thistle seeds that blew away. Maybe the darkness is a restorative resting place facilitating the process of germination.
When I stood up, I noticed some flowers in full bloom being harvested of their pollen by various winged creatures. This was the flip side of darkness—seeds that had germinated, grown, matured and were ready to share their bounty. Perhaps home is a cycle, an undulation, an ever-changing life.
Praise be the pollinators, for without them we would have no flowers.
And flowers nourish the soul.
Every bee, fly and beetle has its place in the grand, brilliant scheme.
Oh, the view—creation at its most spectacular! Billowing masses of vivid red-orange nasturtiums in the foreground frame the sand, sea and massive jutting rocks—Elk beach in a nutshell. And when I wander down the winding trail, I meet more of the edible flowering vines tucked into the crack of a sheer cliff. I’ve always admired the tenacity of such cliff-dwelling plants.
Although I appreciate the ability to cling and hold on, I also applaud those who can let go. The seaweed has floated to its current destination, trusting itself to the great sea. Perhaps it has traveled long and far before being washed up.
Those who grab tightly and those who release into the flow both come to an earthly end. A succulent leaf becomes its own shed tear—a translucent droplet on rough sand. A crab waves its final goodbye. A thistle surrenders its seeds to the wind.
We are all transitioning. What comes next? Will we reseed ourselves and grow again? Will our spirits live new lives beyond our imaginings? I cling to a faith that allows me to let go—because I know I’m being held tenderly now and through eternity.
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.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 