These days I’ve been waking up to find a dense fog wrapped around my neighbourhood. Not an unusual experience around here but meaningful nonetheless, it seems a sort of metaphor or allegory on life. My usual mountain and ocean views have vanished but in spite of it, several birds can be heard loudly chirping and singing in an orchestrated veritable cacophony that serves as a reminder that life is still going on even if I can’t see it. I have wondered what it would be like if this fog never lifted, if all I would be able to see is what is immediately in front of me, to have to go on memory or imagination for the rest. To really be lost in a fog. The simple dictionary definition of ‘lost in a fog’ is to be preoccupied, not paying attention. It often takes some form of chaos to redirect our attention and focus, to see ourselves as we really are in relation to the world. Life can be confusing and challenging if not completely daunting but if we pay close attention, peel away the self-induced layers of anxiety, the what-ifs, it becomes much easier to navigate. We can ask ourselves…did I just make that up or did it really happen?
A remarkable time, it’s been two years of letting go, of personal revelations, and much adapting. It’s been life-changing and bittersweet. But this is what happens by simply being alive and how wonderful is that, what a gift to enable us to reinvent, to change, and to create new visions for ourselves. Life will never be like it was before the pandemic, or any other time, no matter how much we might wish it to be. The past, no matter how marvelous it was is gone after all, but why would we want it to be the same when we are not? We have been given a rare opportunity to see the world around us in a different light. When the fog finally lifts we will see what was there before but the landscape will evoke different emotions, perspectives, and memories. Time passes and we are not the same people we were. That is if we are fortunate enough.
Time and aging are not linear nor are they coordinated with other lives. We are on a solo journey that, no matter how we may fight it, how much we try to fend off change, will lead us to a discovery of self that will be ours and ours alone. There is no way of being certain what the future will bring, no matter how carefully planned our lives might be. Too often we might diminish our true dreams and desires out of the fear of living alone, not being accepted, or fitting into someone else’s definition of success. Perhaps we should turn off from those trying to define us. There is always someone trying to find themselves but no matter where we go there we are. We are the same people three thousand miles away from home as now. There is no secret. We are right here with us just waiting to fly. It does take much courage to walk the road less traveled, to discover and develop our true selves but what we find along the way will be beyond priceless. Experience will be our master and wisdom our guide.
There have been so many abrupt changes in the world, so many catastrophes, and, in spite of all the societal upheaval, many miraculous and wonderful events such as the return of extinct species of fauna. Still, every day brings an avalanche of news items with conflicting statistics and opinions, often confusing if not perplexing. It might just be time for clearing our heads of excess and listening to our own voices for a change. What are they saying? Who are we now? What do we want and who do we need to be? We do need to embrace and honour our lives and then keep doing it no matter what. There’s still so much to explore and to discover. Life might be different but it’s far from over and it could very possibly be so much more fulfilling than before. So when the fog lifts once again, stand back and take in the view. It’s probably never looked so good.
A Meteoric Shower of Facts
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Upon this age, that never speaks its mind,
This furtive age, this age endowed with power
To wake the moon with footsteps, fit an oar
Into the rowlocks of the wind, and find
What swims before his prow, what swirls behind —
Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour,
Rains from the sky a meteoric shower
Of facts . . . they lie unquestioned, uncombined.
Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill
Is daily spun, but there exists no loom
To weave it into fabric.
This essay was written by Jude Gorgopa, Reinvention Consultant and the Founder of Clout Et Cetera and The Fundamentals of Clout. Connect: judegorgopa@gmail.com & LinkedIn.
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