Mist @ MindSay

Early Tuesday morning I got up to find my apartment and neighboring woods enveloped by fog. In the distance I could hear the loud calls of geese and the air was warm, magical. I quickly put on my coat and, still in my pajamas, went out for a walk with my camera to see what I could capture with my lens. It was amazing.



The island seemed imaginary, like a place out of Fairy tale and legend.



I love how the mist transformed the landscape. It was like I was still asleep, walking in my sleep, unsure where I would end up next, or what I would find waiting for me on the other side of the woods.



The water was clear and still, mirroring the trees and revealing fallen leaves. I could've walked across the water to still places unknown... and wet.



Evidence of other creatures appear in muddy prints on some of the rocks along the shore, a sign I wasn't alone. Those geese were out there somewhere. I could hear them call at each other, obviously aware I was there. The sound of them moved away from me in the direction I was walking. Unseen, they were a distant wave of sound breaking the cloudy silence.



There were MANY geese out that morning and they hid in the fog. You can barely make them out on camera as well as by eye sight. I regretted not bringing any bread crumbs. I bet they would've moved toward me and been less afraid if I can come with food. This was as close as I could get to them. Their feathers were evident all along the shore, so were their prints, but they dared not venture close to shore. These were wild geese, avoiding all human contact in a world all their own.



To my delight, I spyed a very large, lonely white-as-a-ghost mute swan swimming a few feet away from the geese on the other side of the island. I just stood there in awe of him. He turned to me, swam a bit closer to me, but like the geese, he didn't get too close to shore. I sang to him a wordless song. Seeing him was like falling in love. I considered his presence a good omen. The mystical swan is a source of legend, an greatly auspicious sign of grace, a poet's boon. I had never seen a swan in the nature reserve. This had me bouncing with joy. I really wanted to capture him on camera, but he appeared as only a ghostly speck of white in the mist.



I am happy that the swan appeared for me this week. He tells me that the new year will bring inspiration and success with song and poetry -- to have the swan as a spirit guide denotes the ability to see into the future, to have the ability to transform ones circumstances for good, and to recognize the beauty within myself and others. I will endeavor to create beauty where ever I go. I have a swan feather at home. Best time is now to use its medicine. The swan is a Samhain bird. He represents the soul, music, poetry, purity... power. Thank you, Swan, for appearing to me.

Foggy mornings are a quiet splendor that I'm just learning to appreciate. It's somehow warming to your spirit. At first, looking out the window, I want to hold the day close to myself, to share it only with my beloved over coffee in our kitchen*, smiling in quiet pleasure over the other's presence. Keeping the day to ourselves, quiet and happy.

_{*I'm single, and despite being a barista, I don't drink coffee}

And then I get out in it, and oh, I want to climb mountains. Get lost in woods wreathed in mist, and then climb above these clouds to look down on them. Fog is like a blending of mystery and passion - there's a passion out in it somewhere, but veiled in mystery. That's it. And the woods call me out, from everything I'm doing. In class? The trees still stand, waiting. At work? There are paths no one's walked. Meeting with a superior? The river's laughing and talking secrets to itself. Rehearsal? Leaves strewn down a hill waiting to be crunched.

I'm very much a sunshine-spirit, or so I'm told. Love being in the sunlight. Drawn to it, need to be able to see it even if I can't be in it. My spirit dies a little in windowless classrooms. Love having it spill over my skin, the touch of light can be the warmest, gentlest caress. But I've also had a love for thunderstorms, and the great power and passion at play in the sky there.

This fall, I'm gradually adding fog to that list of loves.

Music to set the mood - Shiver, Agnelli & Nelson feat. Burn

The sweetest line I know
Is the one that's down your back.
Makes me shiver so
But it keeps me coming back

I had this dream that I was walking down 1st in the middle of the night, through a dense fog.  Everything was well lit and open, but no one was there.  You would occasionally see one or two dark figures inside buildings, but the streets were clear.  Not a person, not a car, nothing.  Yet this didn't seem to bother me as much as one might expect.

The fog was getting thicker and I began humming to myself as I moved down the sidewalk, heading towards Pioneer Square in an eventual manner.  After another block I found I was dancing down the street, leaving the sidewalk entirely and singing to myself as I spun around.  The fog was denser now, but rather than making me cautious or afraid I simply seemed to become emboldened by it.  I found myself at 1st and Yessler, spinning under that strange little promenade, singing loudly into the mist.  I heard a voice join mine, male, and dimly a shape began to emerge from the fog.  His voice was beautiful, and evocative.  He refused to come closer, though, so he remained a faint shape just beyond my ability to see clearly.  After a moment, my curiosity began to get the better of me, and I stepped off the sidewalk -

And woke.