Fog

Driving to work in the fog this morning I was fascinated once again by the other-worldliness of those mornings when vision is so limited.

The opaque background of the sky has descended to earth, foreshortening our ability to gain perspective. In some ways it feels safer, closer, more intimate and cozy. In other ways, it feels vaguely frightening or threatening -- maybe because our protective sense of sight is diminished.

The normal sounds of life seem to be muted, almost silenced by the fog. I almost want to tiptoe so that I don't disturb the peacefulness of the landscape.

I feel strangely suspended in time and space, adrift in a world that appears much smaller than my usual surroundings. I feel cut off from the usual hustle and bustle of morning rush hour.

As I drive down the street, normally familiar objects like poles or trees or buildings seem to appear suddenly out of the gray haze. Because they are usually viewed in the context of the larger scene, they don't usually capture my attention.

But on this foggy morning when they seem to jump into sight from nowhere, these mundane objects have much more prominence in the all-gray foggy universe. It's as though I had refocused the lens of a camera from the larger scene to a smaller close-up, the background blurred out of recognition.

I'm forced to look at these nearby objects, rather than looking past them at something else, and I'm mildly surprised by them. I didn't realize there was a tree on that corner. There are more signposts along here than I remembered.

Fog forcing a different drive-time, rush-hour view is an interesting experience. Perhaps we all need a change of perspective from time to time in order to really see what's around us. Odd isn't it that limiting sight can cause us to see some things for the first time.