When the Fog Lifts

I awoke this morning to a dense fog surrounding Stepping Stones. I can see only a few feet beyond the fence dividing my property and the adjacent one. And even that short distance is obscured in mist and appears only as vague, ghostly shapes. Yet, I "know" that beyond that fence lies a world of enchantment consisting of a deep valley populated with a wide variety of plants and wildlife. On the other side of the damn that traverses the valley lies a lake named Enchanted Lake. I "know" these things exist because of past experiences at Stepping Stones without a fog.

But suppose I were seeing Stepping Stones and its vistas for the first time this morning. I would see a lovely piece of land forested by cedars, oaks, hickory and sweet gum trees and surrounded by a tall fence. I would see the edge of the hill upon which Stepping Stones is built; but what lies beyond the hill is shrouded in a thick fog. I would notice vague outlines of things beyond suggesting a reality beyond my immediate line of vision but revealing little as to its beautiful vistas that I know are there from having seen them before.

How often in my day to day experiences do I live in a dense fog and fail to perceive the possibilities that exist beyond my field of vision or my perception of experience? How often do I miss the opportunity to be creative in what I "see"?

And now as the sun arises higher in the sky, the fog begins to dissipate and I catch a glimpse of the other world that exists beyond the edge of my previous limited vantage point.

I want to experience life with the fog lifted from my perceptions. I want to delve into the richer realm of possibilities, mystery, and even playful fantasy. I want to live along the lines of these clichés: "Life is what we make it" or "What color is the sky in your world?"

And as I write this, I see in the distance a narrow opening in the fog revealing the dancing, rippling, glistening waters of the lake of Enchantment. But then the vision is once again covered in fog. But, for a brief moment, I experienced a world on the other side of the boundaries of my ordinary world whether created by either a fence or my own fog and experienced a world beyond. It matters not whether this "world beyond" is of reality or fantasy so long as I visit both worlds periodically; for therein lies the wonderful and awesome aspects of the human condition; the possibilities granted by our abilities of awareness and creativity.

An Elevator Experience

For some time alone, after being bombarded with all the ineptitude, bureaucracy, and clamor of the medical world in two hospitals in two days with two brothers-in-law, I entered the quiet solitude of an elevator. Its quiet, limited and closed space was a welcome retreat from the over-stimulation of the world outside its confines.

Its walls appeared to be teak, with bronze borders framing each panel. Its ceiling contained recessed lighting giving the impression of the celestial ceiling of a clear starlit night. The floor was white and black speckled tile with white being the predominant color by far. In the center of the floor were four tiles of green marble with no discernible pattern but rather an infinite array of possibilities. They were of utmost significance to the feeling and appearance of the solitude I felt once inside the closed doors of my temporary protective womb.

As the doors closed, I gave a sigh of relief which was immediately swallowed up by the quiet and stillness within my private space. It occurred to me how extremely pleasant was the solitude this elevator could provide rather than simply transferring me between my duties of checking on my husband's well being while waiting in the van parked right outside the building and my duty of assisting my sister in the discharge of her husband from the hospital up on the fourth floor. Where before I had simply used this elevator as a means to go from one duty to another, this time I was encapsulated in it and used it as a kind of cosmic chapel; a place of spiritual respite.

I simply stood there leaning against the bronze railing and became one with the stillness. I pushed no buttons once the doors closed. I simply remained where I was, safely protected from the demands of everyday life; a withdrawal from life and yet an entrance into real life; the life within. The elevator took me to a floor not designated by any of the selections displayed on its panel of floor numbers.

I went to a quiet, calm, solitude of wonderful aloneness further augmented by the four tiles of infinite patterns of design. For a brief, wonderful moment, I stepped outside myself and entered into a peace beyond understanding. It was as though I left my body resting on the railing and my essential self entered into the infinite, seeping through the design of the tiles on the floor, out of this world into the infinite. It was an ecstatic moment, leaving me utterly rested and peaceful as the elevator doors opened, people entered, and I returned to my everyday life situation.

I will never view elevators quite the same again. They can be more than simply floor changing machines. They can propel me inwardly to my essential self, to that stillness and peace therein.