(foggy gray November morning)
Silence is beautiful to me, but I fear the times when I feel overwhelmed by it. When it sits heavily on my shoulders, pushing me down, instead of allowing me to float peacefully. I fear the times, when it will be all I have, surrounding me entirely, pressing against my chest.
Leaving work the other night, I found myself in such a thick, suffocating fog, I barely saw one meter ahead of me. Especially since the headlights lit up the dark opaque air, had I not been familiar with every turn and bump in the road, it would have been incredibly hard to drive. Is that not an enlightening metaphor for life? Rarely do we see further than a meter ahead, despite our constant ambitions to preview everything in our near and far future. And yet, that meter, always ONE meter, is enough to go down any road. And perhaps we can merely go slow as a turtle, but slow steady steps is all it takes to get to where we need to be going. Without having the ability to envision the rest of it, progress can still be made.