7:30 BELLS: Fog Song Under the Stars

In early evening, fog rises from fields near the river, and hovers like a halo. But the sky is clear. Later, when I step out for a night walk, the fog swells above the tree tops, ringing the horizon. But the sky is still clear. Mighty Orion surges in the south. And that immovable point at the sky’s heart—the North Star—shines brightly.

The Bells ring as I think, how strange life is, What is eternal, timeless
a celestial road that is light-years awayis clear and close above me. But what's only a few yards from my hand is blurred in a dark watercolor fog, a blending of the world like a painting by J.M.W. Turner. No open road there. 

But the fog has its own beautyblue, purple, black. Suddenly I don’t mind that I can’t see the near road, because I can see the essential one. 

Most of the time, life is the other way around. And that's worse, I think. The near world, the near road to take looks obvious. Meanwhile fog floats overhead, obscuring the essential, far road that we should really use to navigate by.

Perhaps there's a clue here to holding times of uncertainty in our lives with comfort instead of distress. Maybe we can even see that uncertain state as beautiful, a fog-song of its own
if we stay connected to whatever the essential is for us—and if we trust that somehow, someway, the far starry road will lead us through the fog.

7:30 BELLS Posts run every Tuesday.

7:30 BELLS Guest Posts run on the second Tuesday of every month. Join me on February 9 for a guest post with children's book author Clare Hodgeson Meeker.