Transitions Three - Out of the Gray

It rained during the early morning hours, and today the trails were wet and blanketed in fog. Small, seasonal creeks had been re-enlivened by the night's rain, so I was surrounded not just by the roar of the ocean but also by the sound of trickling water everywhere. It made me think of Handel's Water Music . . . no orchestra needed. I am amazed at how one day can be so different than the next. Sunshine. Rain. Fog. I have watched my own, inner weather change, too. What magic did the night's dreaming work?

Yesterday, my exhaustion was profound. Today, I could easily have hiked twenty miles. Yesterday, I shunned the sight of people and actively avoided them on the trail. Today, I greeted each hiker as if I had known them for years. I wanted to the share my joy, and I did. My first encounter was with a man who was accompanied by a Jack Russell Terrier named Angus. I realized when I'd walked on another half a mile that our brief conversation had left me smiling. There was such a light in the face of this quite ordinary, heavy-set, middle-aged man. It was a light that transfigured him. He radiated happiness. More than this, we'd somehow exchanged the joy we were carrying in the space of a few sentences, and it had become amplified through the encounter.

As I walked on, I offered this joy to others, sometimes with words, but more often just with a smile or an unspoken blessing in passing. Always, this wonderful amplification occurred. I noticed that when I paused to watch a bird or study a budding Douglas Iris that was nearly ready to bloom, there was also an exchange and amplification of energy. The world was buzzing around me, inviting me into the conversation, and I would have missed it all if I'd chosen to be put off by the fog and stayed inside. Yesterday, I had thought that the antidote for exhaustion was rest. Today, I learned that the antidote is very different. It is found in aliveness, in exchange, and in engagement.

Yesterday, I could scarcely string two sentences together. Today, the stories are strong in me again. I cannot yet see my path clearly, but I trust the fog and I am leaning into the mysteries it offers. I don't really need to see what is around the bend, do I?