Wrapped in Fog
and moving with uncertainty.
It’s a bizarre thing to keep on living in spite of so much devastation. A guilt-ridden thing to enjoy the moment, when so many are dying. A fraught thing to be a witness to the destruction of a people, at the hands of my own people who have nearly been destroyed so many times. It feels like moving through a thick, suffocating fog, unsure of what lies ahead, and questioning much of what lies behind.
On Halloween I went trick-or-treating with my kiddo. Fog machines were out and doing their thing, and at one point I found myself completely enshrouded by it. Reason told me that the pavement would continue under my feet, and I’d eventually make my way out of the fog, but I couldn’t see where I was going, nor where I had just come from.
“Halloween is the border crossing into winter… Samhain was a way of marking that ambiguous moment when you didn’t know who you were about to become, or what the future would hold.” (Katherine May, Wintering)
The State of Israe…
