Sometimes God makes me laugh out loud with the antics of creatures. In this case a squirrel poised on a fence wire intently watching something — something I couldn’t see. One false move and she would lose her balance. Hmm, sounds familiar.
Sometimes God makes me chuckle to myself: a pussy willow wearing a jaunty cap. I wonder if God ever thinks we look jaunty?
Sometimes God instills in me a sense of wonder for the most common things: a California poppy — glowing, radiating beauty from within. Can I do that?
Look at those gorgeous veins, I exclaim to a passerby, pointing to the wild radish petals. Do I see my own veins as lovely? God made those, too.
I am looking directly west. A craftsperson took great care to make the W of this compass star artistically pleasing. Do I always try to do my best?
The yellow ice plant leaves make a pattern within the green ones. Do I see the patterns in my own life? Patterns that perhaps need tending?
Spirit draws my attention to a fence post. It stands witness to the ever-changing Pacific, to the souls who pass by whether pensive, blissful or somewhere in between. To what do I stand witness?
Sometimes God shows me how something like ivy can be viewed as positive, negative or neutral. Do I give others the freedom to be viewed at all angles?
Sometimes the plants themselves seem to stop me in my tracks just to say: hi! A friendly smile and greeting can change the trajectory of someone’s day.
When I arrived back where I started my walk, God gave me another belly laugh. Now there were two squirrels balanced precariously, looking at who-knows-what. God knows. I guess that will have to be enough for me.
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.
Do you ever feel lost? 
There is something truly wild about the beaches in Mendocino county. 
This past Sunday our Quaker query was: Do I embrace Joy as a companion on my spiritual journey? 
When I look down from the edge of a cliff I often feel a flutter of excitement.
When I crouch down, I feel the thrill of another world.
I can see a bee I would have missed otherwise.
Or how tall horsetails would look to a grasshopper. 
The spores that horsetails thrust up in the spring are called elaters. 
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.
What leaves me gob smacked about the Mendocino area’s headlands in the spring is the sheer volume of flowers that flourish there.
Whether planted,
natural,
or a combination of both,
the blooms often continue as far as the eye can see.
I often feel embraced by them,
especially when I get down to their level.
Hugs can be hard to come by these days. But allowing the embrace of benevolence—through the natural world—can soothe us.
Home means something different to each one of us.
For some it is a sense of place: a physical location on the planet.
A spot to sit and enjoy the view.
For others it is a landing point—a respite from constant moving.
There are those who find home in a soul mate;
they feel whole when joined with another.
Or conversely, some find that same sense of peace solo—yet within that solitude they also experience cosmic unity.
Still others find home in a community so tightly knit that everyone is in everyone else’s business.
But they kind of like it that way because it makes them feel loved.
What is your definition of home?
I have been feeling dizzy, off kilter, half asleep—as if I have been living in a disturbing dream. I was banned from going to my familiar places—the places that make me whole.
Forbidden from seeing the tiny treasures tucked into the headland fields—like California poppy pods and Vinca major buds.
But this week a trail opened that snakes along the cliffs of the Pacific.
And my dizziness left me amid a wash of wild radish and buckhorn plantain.
I witnessed two bugs, covered with pollen, wrestling on the petals of a poppy.
Pondered a piece of nesting material floating atop emerald grasses.
Saw seed heads joined, tangled, entwined.
I am once again completely awake.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 