Fog

Maral strolled through a beautiful country, enjoying the pleasant weather she had as her traveling companion. The birds sang, the flowers tossed their fragrance all along the path, the warm sun smiled down upon her.

She was content and felt a good purpose drawing her onward toward Babalonia. Wisdom had explained that there she would discover her next step toward her ultimate goal- the Eternal City.

She wished that Wisdom could have accompanied her. Things never stay the same. Maral understood that the essence of Wisdom was still with her but not physically as she had been. Wisdom had told her that this was a new season of maturing. She could hear the voice of Wisdom whenever she listened. She would never be really alone. Maral was not altogether confident in this, but she put on a brave face.

Maral cleared the cobweb of negative thoughts from her mind and enjoyed the lovely day. Without warning everything changed. The sun dimmed, the bird’s song, with all other sounds, muted leaving only the echo of her own breathing. Everything became hazy. Maral stumbled as she tried to figure out what had happened. Timidly, she continued down the path which now felt unfamiliar and mildly ominous.  

All too soon, her state of contentment was replaced with a haunting notion that she was lost. Her body felt drained and worn out. The purpose calling her had dimmed. She wanted to collapse upon the grass and rest. But her heart prodded her onward. What had happened to her?

Only days before in the City of Enlightenment, she had experienced the incredibly powerful event. Just moments before, she had enjoyed the peaceful beauty of nature. Now, all that seemed ages ago and pointless.

Wisdom’s voice came to her faintly, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Maral raised one heavy foot, then another, and on and on she trudged. The sluggish plod experience seemed to last for an eternity but actually it had been only a few days before she felt an easing, slight at first, then suddenly everything returned to the way it had been before the unknown difficulty.

The sun broke in upon her dreary thoughts and shattered them. The joyful bird’s song seemed magnified after everything had been dulled. She found she was still on her path.

She looked back and saw a fog hovering just behind her. It lingered for a moment then dissolved.

Wisdom’s voice was clear and strong, “The fog was sent by the East Wind. It is a terrible snare which has trapped many in its body. It comes without warning and settles thickly upon a wayfarer. Its goal is to get them to stop, give up. It achieves this by creating the elements that causes them to feel lost, shiftless, and without purpose. As you continue through the fog, it clings tighter to you, compelling you to give up. But if you refuse to stop, regardless of the difficulty, it is powerless. You did well. Continue on.”