Sometimes all you can see is fog; in the sky, in your head, in your heart.
We went to the beach recently and the gorgeous view of the horizon, sailboats, and the opposite shore dotted with beach houses disappeared quite suddenly as the fog began to roll in. Within minutes, all the steady points of reference were gone; it was hard to even see the other beach goers if they were more than 20 or 30 yards away. The sun went away and though it was only mid-day, the temperature dropped and there was a slightly cooler twilight-like feel to the air.
My heart began to race realizing that the familiar was fading away into a sense of nothingness. The rush of the Atlantic at my feet as I walked along the beach only seemed to add to my anxiety. My feet felt a little unsteady. The shifting sand, having before felt flexible, now felt groundless. I longed to get the clarity I had enjoyed just a few moments earlier.
In just a few minutes, the fog receded and the sun returned. The boats and the swimmers and the houses across the way came back in sharp relief under a warm sky. In the return to normal, it was hard to believe that things had ever been grey and vague.
If you're in the midst of the mist, however that is manifesting in your life today, I hope you know you're not alone. I also hope that you can have the grace to hold two truths at the same time: the fog is real and it's disorienting. And it's not permanent. Even when the haze blots out the sight of the people, things, experiences, and hopes we have held in our hearts, it doesn't have the power to disintegrate these things merely by being present.
Take care of yourselves, Friends. The fog comes to visit us all at one some point, likely several times during our walkabout on this earth. Let yourself be scared, but don't be fooled into thinking you're in for perpetual darkness. Give yourself permission to feel unsteady, but don't surrender the tools you possess to keep yourself rooted during times when the light goes.
When you can't see, stay.
The fog might have the power to stay for awhile, but then, so do you.
We went to the beach recently and the gorgeous view of the horizon, sailboats, and the opposite shore dotted with beach houses disappeared quite suddenly as the fog began to roll in. Within minutes, all the steady points of reference were gone; it was hard to even see the other beach goers if they were more than 20 or 30 yards away. The sun went away and though it was only mid-day, the temperature dropped and there was a slightly cooler twilight-like feel to the air.
My heart began to race realizing that the familiar was fading away into a sense of nothingness. The rush of the Atlantic at my feet as I walked along the beach only seemed to add to my anxiety. My feet felt a little unsteady. The shifting sand, having before felt flexible, now felt groundless. I longed to get the clarity I had enjoyed just a few moments earlier.
In just a few minutes, the fog receded and the sun returned. The boats and the swimmers and the houses across the way came back in sharp relief under a warm sky. In the return to normal, it was hard to believe that things had ever been grey and vague.
If you're in the midst of the mist, however that is manifesting in your life today, I hope you know you're not alone. I also hope that you can have the grace to hold two truths at the same time: the fog is real and it's disorienting. And it's not permanent. Even when the haze blots out the sight of the people, things, experiences, and hopes we have held in our hearts, it doesn't have the power to disintegrate these things merely by being present.
Take care of yourselves, Friends. The fog comes to visit us all at one some point, likely several times during our walkabout on this earth. Let yourself be scared, but don't be fooled into thinking you're in for perpetual darkness. Give yourself permission to feel unsteady, but don't surrender the tools you possess to keep yourself rooted during times when the light goes.
When you can't see, stay.
The fog might have the power to stay for awhile, but then, so do you.