12 December 2007
As I stepped out with the dogs tonight I found myself upon an island in a sea of fog. It's a misty, moisty cool night so thick the neighboring homes are almost completely obscured. The fog is a metaphor for the seclusion and drawing in that occurs during the wintertime. The moon and stars are shrouded and hidden by the fog as I am hidden within my home and myself. The water drip, drip, drips from the trees in a slow, patient stream as my imagination slowly conjures up the words to type. If you step outside can you hear it? It's the quiet and the stillness of a winter night in the country. Nothing much is moving, there's no jarring noises aside from the occasional car on our little country road but there's life underneath in the ground.
Just a few moments outside can make me feel wrapped in the moist, sensuous arms of the Goddess.
The misty fog is so thick that the absence of green life is not missed because the clouds themselves are wrapped around the trees, the buildings and hugging the Earth Mother Herself. The energy of the skies, however still and quiet, is very close to the ground tonight and the air pulses with a soft, subtle vibration. Wintertime fog, there's nothing like it! Walking around in thick fog makes me feel like I'm breathing in water, floating safe around my own little island. Do you have your own island retreat?