There is a heaviness in the air as the first dense fog of the season is upon me this morning. Visibility is down to a few dozen feet as I drive out of the neighborhood towards school. However, as soon as I turn on to the Main Street, I barely go a quarter of a mile and it’s absolutely clear. It’s as if I emerged out of a ‘heaviness cocoon’ and into the lightness again. However, my mind cannot seem to shake the experience off that quickly.
The heaviness continues on my weekly walk around the lake after the drop off at school. The grass is heavy with moisture and soaks into my socks. I come under heavy attack by the mosquitoes as I approach the water. The water itself is heavy with algae from shore to shore. A lone mallard duck braves the swamp as she ever so slowly swims in the middle of the green coating formed over the past few weeks. Some of the bushes around the lake are heavy with the last of summer’s berries.
As I cut my walk around the lake a bit short so that my don’t become a feeding trough for the biters, I am beginning to think that today’s walk has been a bit of a wash. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see one my daughter’s teachers coming my way. In all my Friday walks, I have never seen another human on the trail. I feel a bit of lightness at the sight of a fellow traveler. We have a short but nice chat about yellow jackets and mosquitoes, and the scavenger hunt he is setting out for the students.
The encounter lasts for less than a minute, but it helps me turn the corner towards lightness. As if on cue, I notice that the sun is emerging through the gloom. By the time I walk back to my car, the heaviness of a few minutes ago has become a distant memory. All I feel as I journal my morning experience while sitting in the driver’s seat is the lightness infused by the ever-so-brief human interaction with a fellow traveler. The rising warmth from the sun as it crests the tall trees in the distance confirms my feeling.
By the time I make the short drive back home, it is as if the fog had merely been a dream. And yet, I knew that it was real because I had seen it with my own eyes, heard its stillness and felt its heaviness in my mind. This wasn’t my first experience of waking up to dense morning fog, and yet I had let it so rapidly blindside my feelings and emotions. How can a single external stimulus send us into heaviness, if ever so briefly?
And then came more questions.
What symptoms tend to make us aware that we are in a mental or spiritual ‘fog’? What purpose or message may the energy of lightness our way? What kind of awareness can we develop so as to preserve our equanimity of lightness?
Autumn is on its way. There will be a lot more fog-laden mornings on the mind’s lake. It’s time for me to find some answers, so that I don’t get blindsided again. How about you?
Join us for our weekly gathering with the #SpiritChat community on twitter on Sunday, Sep 5 at 9am ET / 630pm India. We will discuss ways to emerge into lightness… Namaste ~ @AjmaniK
The lightness of every rose is unaffected by the thorns that surround it…
Navneet Kapoor said:
A sudden change from discomfort to comfort is always difficult to absort, initally, later one gets accustomed to it, and begins to enjoy the ‘lightness’ it brings along
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Yes, that’s true… we often find that the passage of time reveals the gifts of change 🙂
Gary Gruber, Ph.D. (@garyrgruber) said:
Yes to this: “the lightness infused by the ever-so-brief human interaction with a fellow traveler.” We are all travelers of one kind or another, wending our way along the path, looking for the signs, making connections, and celebrating the journey, Thank you for continuing to share your walks, your observations and your inspirations.
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Glad to be a fellow traveler with you, Gary – making connections, pausing, exchanging notes and more on our travels… Thank you 🙏🏽