Wild. Wander. Wilderness. Nomad. Traverse. Trail.
I have no idea what I need to write but apparently we write to find out what we think. Let me see what emerges here.
Where am I wandering? There is no light, either inside or out, just a colourless, murky, ever-extending horizon. What’s going on with us this day? I’m wandering mentally. My head actually feels squeezed, not tight, but a pressure, compressing all my thoughts, all my words inside this blank empty nothingness. Is this Arctic day there is a sense of grey heaviness. I’m so tired at midday, arms plunged down solid on my laptop, letting the solid form of it carry the weight of my arms and hands. Anything today feels like it’s asking too much.
So I wander in a bleary blundering kind of fog, the image wanting to be noticed today. I have stumbled into fog-land. This particular day in this particular season asks for more energy than I can muster. The fog is a cocoon. I can feel the mass of it slowly engulfing and consuming. Open a window. Slide off my boots. Anything to ease the pressure and get movement flowing. I can feel my feet starting to evaporate, feeling the hot air gently flow out and away from my socks. Hmm… now the sound of something slides into my awareness. A car horn, not too loud floats up and into my open window. A soft humming comes from the walls – the heating system? My thoughts wander while my weighted arms and head accept the encasing cocoon. Even my thoughts don’t get far. They are gently pressed back. It feels like naptime. My head wants to sink unto my arms and slowly let the whole foggy day envelope me. Digest me. Does one just accept this as the necessary need of a fog-day? Does one give over to fog desire? Or, does one get some caffeine or some sugar or some motion going?
What is fog anyway? Literally it means, a thick cloud of tiny water droplets suspended in the atmosphere at or near the earth's surface which obscures or restricts visibility (to a greater extent than mist; strictly, reducing visibility to below 1 km). That's what the first google search tells me. It greatly reduces visibility. No surprise here. What senses come awake during a fog day? Sound helps. Reminds me that not everything needs to sleep today. Serves as an anchor. Grounding while I’m being whisked off in fog arms to fog land. Drink some water. Maybe hydration inside will help, although it does add yet more water to the atmosphere. I’m already carrying plenty of water with me today.
This swirling reminds me of the landscape growing up in Newfoundland. Lots of fog there. You notice it especially when it’s a driving day. Getting behind the wheel during a foggy newfoundland morning does one thing in particular – it slows things down. Crawling along in traffic, bend low over the windshield straining to see the white line in the middle of the pavement. So, crawling it is then today. Slow creeping along, feeling my way, straining every sense to identify where I am, or where I’m going. Exhausting. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s a slowing of everything down today, to a crawl or a standstill. Having a nap. Door closed and locked. Snooze time. In the middle of a Monday work afternoon. Blurry Monday. Pulling my fog blanket closer and letting myself be carried off to fog land to dream fog dreams.
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