Welcome back! Yesterday, I wrote about how chemo fog can affect day-to-day cognitive functioning for those receiving cancer treatments. Now on to the fog you see when you look out a window and can’t see a darn thing except fog. It’s as if the world comes to a halt, only extending as far as your range of vision.
Literary images of fog usually contain some lurking figure in the distance that’s barely discernible, but is there waiting. A lone figure limps across the isolated barren moor in a horror tale. Fog fills uninviting alleys. Fog mysteriously envelops a person and he or she disappears forever.
Most of us are more familiar with this type of fog. You can’t see your mailbox from an inside window looking out. An outstretched arm in front of your face is invisible. Driving in fog is frightening when you can’t see anything in front of you, and you inch along using the white line at the side of the road as a guide. Too much hope is placed on that white painted line.
Planes are grounded. Ships don’t sail. People are cautioned to stay off the road.
Fog limits visibility.
Or does it?
For planes, ships, and cars, the answer is yes. Fog forces us to slow down. People get so busy running from one thing to the next that they scarcely know what their thoughts even are. They live race car lives going at break neck speed around the same track over and over. These cars go nowhere. You can get off the racetrack. Slowing down gives time for thoughts and ideas to change, develop, and strengthen. It may be a subtle shift from not knowing to knowing.
Foggy days have their advantages. I like them. For me personally, fog has reflective benefits. Fog offers introspection and time to think. When fog settles in around the house and changes plans, I just take a step back and wonder what it is I’m being given the opportunity to figure out. Then I proceed to hunker down and figure it out.
Fog leads us to knowing.
In many ways I found myself in foggy territory while I was on leave from teaching. Eventually, it became clear to me that there were more reasons, better reasons, to retire than to return. I have not known what would unfold at oncology appointments or what choices would be best for me. Eventually, I would get information or a feeling that would sway me in a particular direction. There have been relationships I have been unsure about, but when I looked at repetitive patterns, my choices suddenly seemed obvious. It takes time. I need to sit in the fog for that subtle shift to happen.
Last winter brought my part of Wisconsin several foggy days. Plans changed again, and I just planned an indoor day. There was nowhere to hurry, no “have tos” that day, and more of a relaxed pace. When you know you don’t have to go anywhere, there is no worry and anxiety. You are safe in your slippers inside drinking some green tea with pomegranate with you feet propped up. Maybe the world needs more foggy days.
Fog leads to clarity.
Some years I identify a word as a theme for the year. My word for 2019 is FOCUS. At the end of 2018, I was walking in the arboretum imagining thoughts of the year ahead materializing just a few steps ahead of me on the path. Nature really reveals a lot. I heard words of warmth, feeling, and finally focus. I am not sure what big feelings I will have. Maybe it’s a reminder to rely on my intuition and trust my feelings. I am also not sure of what exactly is the significance of the word focus. I waited for more, but nothing came.
It was a cloudy day, but not foggy.
I decided something would happen to let me know where my focus needed to be.
My focus continues to be on my health and happiness. Both are continued works in progress.
It can’t always be sunshine and blue skies. Rain clears away what a person no longer needs. Winds carry new and old away. Winter gives the earth a chance to rest and eventually renew.
And the fog, whereas it first seems like it closes in and confines someone, it redefines. Fog offers a moment in time that is a respite from reality. When it lifts, it has the potential to offer clarity, freedom, and direction. Let it roll in and sit with it for a while. When it’s ready and you’ve had time to sort through confusion, it will roll out, leaving you behind with clarity on what needs to happen.
Sometimes fog just happens and it isn’t safe to be out.
You can’t find clarity wandering around aimlessly on a foggy moor or driving down a road you can’t see. They are lonely and scary places.
Wait until you can see.
The fog will lift.
Today I feel rather foggy on the inside. I don’t have much “ummph.” I think it’s a good day to get super comfy and listen to what messages I may be trying to send myself. Maybe I’ll take a nap and awaken back in a world of sunshine and warmth. Maybe it’s less foggy in my dreams.
- How do you find clarity and purpose when you feel foggy?