The Beauty of Fog and Mystery
west down 915 from Cape Enrage, New Brunswick
I’m learning to appreciate the fog more and more, in life, and in landscape. This appreciation is a bit of a survival trait, as otherwise the unknown and the mystery can lurk and grow ever-taller and freeze one in place. Yes, a part of me would love to see the clear blue skys and connected dots from here to the end of my days. But that would be sad as well.
There would be no room for discovery.
There would be no mystery around the next bend.
It would be a bland going through the motions
and not living life.
So I sit here and distant dates and questions trickle in, about where I’ll be when, and how I’ll get there. I don’t need to know them yet.
They will change before I get there.
At the end of each day I’m often surprised and delighted to have discovered the way the day unfolded other than how I suspected it would when I awoke.
The future is a fog, and we can spend our time trying to penetrate it with insight, staring, and force of will, or we can look around at what the fog reveals through its slowly swirling retreat.
I can get caught up pondering travel plans for 4 cities ahead, or I can let it go and know that those answers aren’t needed (or available) right now anyways.
I’m in Montreal. Looking into the fog, and seeing a few paths emerge through the mist. Both paths I see offer their own interesting journey and will reveal more to learn and share and discover. Not how I planned it, but how it is becoming.
So I am learning to appreciate the fog, the seasons of fast and slow, the hurry up and wait of life.
Learning to listen for the fog horn, keep an eye out for the lighthouse’s beacon, and enjoy the fog’s reveal, is a growing, learning, challenging thing.
It is good as well.
Not comfortable,
but good.
