Messages From The Mist

 

It seems like every morning for the last two weeks I have opened my eyes to a vista shrouded in fog and mist. Laying in my bed I listen for the sound of the birdsong that sings in the day, every day, only to find that it comes across muffled, sounding far away when I know that there are daily visitors to the tree outside my window even before the sun comes up. I'm no scientist but according to the all-knowing Google the distortion in sound is caused by the water droplets in the mist that weigh down the sound and keeps it from moving freely. I know it makes me feel as if it's weighing down my ability to get out of bed. Is it any wonder that, waking up to a foggy morning, we just want to pull the covers back up over our head and wait for the sun to put in an appearance? 

As with many things in my life lately, synchronicity, a.k.a. The Universe, showed me the following quote this morning while I was browsing for one for the "Flower Bear's Thought For The Day" daily post on the Flower Bear's Garden Facebook Fan Page:

"In between fog and mist nature finds its way to bloom."

Swati Priya 

It doesn't matter how many mornings we wake up to fog and mist, at some point the sun will burn it away and nature will continue doing what it does best ... bloom. The trees and the flowers will shake off the wetness and reach for the warmth of the sun, sending energy to their roots. The birds will sing louder and we can hear it more clearly. Vegetables and fruit continue to ripen in the sunshine and, at this stage in the year, are getting ready for harvest. Even in the deepest fog there is always the promise of sunshine.

I know this year has seemed like one continuous, huge, blanket of fog, but the sun has to come out sooner or later. In all honesty, it was always there but we've been too busy trying to survive to remember that life is doing its best to summon up enough strength to burn through to us. We have to keep the faith and know in our hearts that it will come out and we will begin the process of blooming again. Like the birds, we just have to keep singing until we can all hear the song.

And so it is.