I woke up before dawn and watched the fog roll in and by. There is something mystical about early morning wind which brings a thick mist. Sometimes this means rain, sometimes it doesn’t.

What is does reflect is my soul. Not in a sad or depressed way, it is something different. There is a fog, a veil, a mist which clouds my understanding and saps my impetus forward. I do not think it pernicious but it is heavy. 

Foggy Day in the Mountains

Indeed, this morning, after taking a week away from this page without intent, I was going to close this section, put up the sign that said closed for remodeling, open for business in Spring 2005. 

For all I want to do is pray. I feel, again, that the present path has taken me somewhere, only it has come to an end and now I am in the wilderness searching for a new trailhead. I peek around trees, and wander up a hill, but cannot find that new path. All I want to do today is pray and sit, and listen for the call of the one who knows all trails.

I hold on to it all so tightly, trying still to forge something of my own, all the while knowing that peace and wisdom comes not in holding on but in letting go, come what may at the bottom of the chasm below. Still I cannot release my grip.