When I woke up this morning all was gray, shrouded and silent.
My little mountain is about 1300 feet above sea level, and the clouds are hovering around 700 feet today, so when I peered out the window I couldn't see more than 5 feet in any direction. It's a bit of a strange feeling, being unable to see anything but mist and shadow, and I drank my morning tea while watching the sun struggle, and fail, to break through the gloom.
Truth be told, the weather suited my mood perfectly. Though plenty of good things have been happening lately, this is still the dark part of the year when the cosmic focus is on death as a means of eventual rebirth. As I take stock of my life, marking the things that need to be released and those that need to be nurtured, I feel as though my path is shrouded from view. The future, once so clear and bright, glints weakly as though through a thick fog.
What to do? Which way to go? Is that gently moving shape a beckoning arm, or the edge of a nasty trap? Right now, I can't tell the difference. So I'm crawling along, hands held out in front of me, hoping that eventually I'll stumble into the light.
. . . I wish I could know if the directions that I take
And all the choices that I make won't end up all for nothing
Show me what it's for
Make me understand it
I've been crawling in the dark looking for the answer
Is there something more than what i've been handed?
. . .
Help me carry on
Assure me it's ok to use my heart and not my eyes
To navigate the darkness
-"Crawling in the Dark," Hoobastank