Spirit Matters: Dwelling in the fog

This morning, when I woke up to fog outside my window, I felt a familiar sense of intrigue deep inside of me.

It is a feeling that is difficult to explain, but if you experience it too, you probably know what I am talking about.

Fog is often used in literature and film as a mood-setting device. It creates a sense of mystery and uncertainty. And if a sense of danger is present, real or not, fog can intensify that feeling of fear.

I can’t remember the last time there was fog outside my window, probably not as long ago as it seems.

But, having made my way through the last several years of various intensities of hormonal-induced brain fog, I can appreciate the physicality of fog more.

Fog – internal and external – blurs things. It takes away any sort of clarity we might have once had. Once, a co-worker told me about her mother who was experiencing the onset of dementia. My co-worker said her mother described the feeling as having cotton candy in her brain.

I think “cotton candy in the brain” is an apt metaphor for brain fog when it is hormonal in nature too. Everything is just a big jumbled mess, and yet, like fog, cotton candy can easily dissolve or be pulled apart.

The hormonal-induced fog in my brain has mostly lifted, but I remember how frustrating it was to be in the thick of it. As I age, waking up in the morning and getting acclimated to my environment can create the same effect. It takes me longer these days to fully step into the day.

My brain often jumps from one idea to the next at a high speed – there is a term for this in meditative circles: “monkey mind.” Brain fog slows down my ability to think clearly and to make decisions. As I endured various other symptoms of perimenopause, I feared this brain fog would never go away.

I am happy to say I am thinking much more clearly these days. And for my friends who are in the throes of all of these hormonal changes, take heart. There is hope for you too, and there are wellness measures you can take to help reduce these symptoms.

Aside from brain fog though, the sight of fog outside my window does elicit in me a sense of mystery, of ineffability.

When fog visits, it permeates everything in an ephemeral sort of way. Even though I can see more clearly right outside the window versus down the road, the fog is no less present outside my window than it is down the road. People looking in the direction of my window would see the fog as thick as I see it looking in their direction.

I have often thought of fog as a metaphorical manifestation of the Divine. When I see fog outside, I like to think of it as a visual reminder of what is invisible the rest of the time.

There is nowhere the Divine is not present. The fog reminds me of this.

But it is also important to remember that as it is outside of us, so it is inside.

Sometimes we are allowed a fleeting experience of the Divine in our hearts. It is real to us, and it often gives us the grace to continue forward. Once the experience fades, we are left to go on faith that what we know we experienced continues to be so. That the Presence of the Divine remains in our hearts, though we might not ‘feel’ it.

That is what seeing fog outside of my window is like for me.

As I am about to finish writing this, the fog – this metaphorical manifestation of the Divine – has dissipated somewhat from when I started. It is still visible, but not as thick. It is fading. Soon, it will be gone.

And yet, I still believe.

I believe that Divine Presence is always there, always everywhere, inside and outside of my being. Every once in a while, that Presence reveals itself to me in some mysterious way, and then that experience fades. But even though I don’t sense it anymore, the Presence is still there.

Always and everywhere.

SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.