Mountain Fog

from the archives


The Blue Mountains breathed life back into me. When planning my trip home, I knew I needed the mountains to be first stop and I needed spend a significant period there. I packed books, sweaters (way too many sweaters), palo santo, sage, and notebooks. I had many ideas of what to do when I got there. I wanted to make the best use of my four days. I wanted to return from the mountain changed and clear. It happened, but not the way I planned. 

As we ascended the mountain, full of anticipation and ready to be cleansed of the weight of the “real” world, I was also relinquished of my plan. We arrived at dusk in a cloud of damp fog that held up the belly of the rain just in time for us to pull into the driveway. As if God herself was welcoming us with tears of joy, the sky burst open and bathed us.

After the fire was lit and we brewed our first of many cups of coffee, we sat, drank and marveled at the beautiful rustic setting we would call home. It didn’t take much for me to realize that this was the whole point of the trip - to do nothing. To allow the windows of my soul to study every moment, every tchotchke, every leaf, every star and every dew drop.


I became obsessed with being present. Filling the spiritual void with stillness and gratitude, I no longer craved food. One of my fondest memories was running through the garden in the rain. I’ve never seen lushness like this before - the flowers drooped under the weight of the morning rain and the colors! They shone deep and bright under the giving sky. I felt like a child discovering nature for the first time. And even though I shared this scenery with my travel-mate and a few hundred townspeople a couple miles away, in this moment I felt like it was my special secret. My wonderland.

On one of the nights I dragged my friend to lay under the stars. Armed with blankets and a little bit of fear, we used the lights from our phones to guide us to the perfect patch of grass. Laying back waiting for our eyes to adjust, we giggled. It was pitch black at first and the night's ominous sounds caused us to wonder if this was a good idea. As soon as the doubt arose it was calmed by the magic of the stars. Shining like our hopes and dreams among the black void of space. We instantly understood who we were. The space between earth and sky melted and we became astronauts. 

When there wasn’t silence, there was warm communion. Woman to woman we stripped ourselves bare and unpacked. Offering nothing but honored listening, we took refuge in the dialogue. How did two Queens allow programmed reality to dull the jewels in our crown? Worshiping, witnessing and reuniting, we kissed our reflections, gathered our robes, and descended.

Worshiping, witnessing and reuniting, we kissed our reflections, gathered our robes, and descended.

The fog released us just as it welcomed us, thick, misty and full of hope.