Fog Inside My Head

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I can remember where I took this picture.

It was in the hill country just north of Taumaranui in the central North Island, at a highway rest stop.

I  can describe the weather.

There was a fog, like smoke, opaque and wispy at turns, drifting through the pines and scrub, leaving all damp to the touch.

But I truly know what fog feels like.

For it was in my head, in a troubled time, when there was no clarity and no respite and for a brief period, no hope.

And even though I have climbed out of the worst of it, there are still moments, small intervals, when the fog returns from banishment.

Very frustratingly, I might add.

Then I remember that the fog must lift, and the sun come through, as it did a only a few minutes down the road…

 

 

The City, To The West, Fog Lifting

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So this was the view on Thursday this week – from Orakei Marae, where I work in the morning, over a shimmering  Okahu Bay and towards Auckland’s CBD.

It’s a usually breezy town but on this day the fog was only fully lifting towards noon, and the sea was like glass.

I work from a community house, which is a pretty humble structure to be fair , but with this stellar vista of  man and nature as compensation.

Other versions of the same outlook: The City, To The West, Shining and The City ,To The West, Clouded . I am a sucker for changing weather overlaid over one scene(obviously!)

 

The Experiences And The Meaning

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” We had the experiences but missed the meaning “

    – T.S Eliot , ‘The Dry Salvages’

I went down to the water’s edge earlier this morning, the sun penetrating the sea fog, the light quietly spectacular. There was a fleeting moment of soul connection and calm.

Then, as is my wont, my mind ticked over to what I needed to do today, tomorrow and into the near future.

The moment was gone and  the experience had lost its meaning.

The sun and the water had not changed, or maybe imperceptibly.

But I had moved on.

How many little moments or experiences are lost just like that, as I  am “elsewhere” even though physically present?

And then the best I can hope for is that the meaning of the experience will come to me in hindsight.

Just a reminder to myself to be mindful and soulful, even in the smallest experience, for it may not occur again.