As I walked the beach for the first time since we arrived on Hilton Head Island, the fog was so dense I could hardly see even 50 yards ahead of myself. In the photo I took you can barely see two figures who were not far away from me. Very nearby, a man and woman were playing with their two dogs and they kept appearing and disappearing in the thick mist, like apparitions.
I stood at the foot of the ocean; it was high tide and the sand beneath my feet was solid and well packed. Since the sky met the sand in blended grey dampness, it was as if there were no sky at all, just ghostly spaciousness. And the sound of the waves was so intense it enveloped me. I became the waves. Their whooshing sound became my heart beat. I felt as if I was more than the waves moving toward and away from the shore; I was the Ocean itself.
If I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see any future, anything in front of me, with any clarity. If I looked behind me, I couldn’t see much of the past either, what was behind me. I hadn’t walked far away from the portal access to the beach so I knew I would still be able to find my way home. In fact, I also knew I was already home. I had no fear in this complete blurring of my vision. And in this moment, I received a message from the fog. It said, speaking louder than the waves, “This is a period of your life to trust, to leap into the unknown, believing that all will be well.”
This is the time of year when I create rituals to point myself in some intentional direction for the seasons ahead. The fog was telling me that for 2021, my ritual needed to be about trust. These days, with the pandemic raging, the unknown seems amplified in the randomness of this virus. It gives no clue of who it will overtake and who it will not. In its invisible cloak, even if we show up to our lives mindfully, cautiously, carefully, still the virus can surprise us at any moment.
So how do we live this way, in this foggy unknowing? The fog told me to trust that all will be well, whatever form that takes. It was wise advice to my ego whose default is to try and control everything. How does a ship captain steer her boat in a thick fog, instruments of navigation broken? The captain finds her own center, her own ground and trusts that what will be will be. And finally, soon enough, the fog will clear, the sun will shine through, and perhaps even a surprising rainbow will appear. This is how I will approach this year’s envisioning.
I am planning on doing a solstice ritual on the beach, December 21st. How about you? Ritual is the embodiment of intention. Be inspired by this short video on how Ritual can meet the Creative Force.