photo taken by flickr user The Jamoker

 I have always loved fog. It’s not so great to drive in when it is very thick, but, otherwise, it’s a beautiful manifestation of Nature. I don’t really know why I am so fond of it, but I have clues. First of all, I see Nature’s metaphors everywhere. For me, our entire world is filled with metaphors. They point to a multiverse that has emanated from Being that is beyond our comprehension. If we follow these, they will lead us to greater insight, into not only our world, but into ourselves, as well. But, I digress; back to fog.

I keep hearing the Carl Sandburg poem running through my mind:

The fog creeps in on little cat feet.
It sits on silent haunches,
Looking over harbor and city,
And then moves on. 

This is a great image. The way fog arrives, silently, like a cat creeping. It rests for awhile, hiding what it wishes to hide from our gaze, mysterious, numinous. It is without doubt a symbol of the unconscious. Fog can provide clues as to the nature of the psyche. Sometimes it hides the Truth from us. Sometimes it distorts reality. We lose our direction and get confused as to where we are in our lives. Truth is not always seen clearly.

Fog is a veil that, at opportune times, shrouds things we should not see. It sits, white, like a thick blanket covering the earth, bringing with it coldness and clamminess. It moves mysteriously, swirling and whirling, almost breathing chaotically, always in metamorphosis.

Fog can be a harbinger of doom, as in old horror movies. Every movie I’ve seen about Jack the Ripper takes place in a bank of thick fog. Of course, London is famous for it. Many musicians have used dry ice in their shows for years, to evoke the eery mood and atmosphere that fog provides.

Fog is a low-lying cloud that pulls the vault of heaven down to earth, enveloping us. In this way, it symbolizes heaven and earth intertwined, an intermediate state of being, the metaxy of Soul. When covered by fog, the the usual hard edges of physical matter are transformed into a surreal world of blurry obscurity, much like an impressionist painting.

Fog can bring a time of obscurity and confusion, but the sun always chases it away, eventually.

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