Here, where the sky descends upon the earth, encircling it in a misty, ethereal mass, I sit fully ensconced. The clouds hover right above and through me, blurring boundaries, obscuring details. It is a mythical land. In one moment you can see a pinch of blue and in another it is gone. Distance becomes nearness and what’s up close is all that there is.
Sometimes this occurrence can last for days, even weeks. Sometimes it is only in the early morning before the sun has had a chance to awaken the clouds and put them in the rightly place.
When it happens and decides to stay, it feels as if I live under a mushroom. The world has closed in on itself. I walk through the haze embracing the focus, relishing in the quiet obscurity of impaired vision. In yoga, I have learned to consolidate my energy after a strenuous exercise. In the hazy fog, I understand that the earth is unifying, contemplating its next move before rising from the vapors.
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